For months now, I had been asking around the neighborhood after Leroy. And honestly, I wasn’t too terribly diligent. When I found myself in conversation with one of the more familiar faces, I would ask if he or she seen him. They usually shook their heads gravely and said something like, “Leroy? Na. Not in a long time. He don’t think he was doing too good.”

And I would reply “Yeah, he was going in for surgery a while ago. I haven’t seen him since.”

This would usually invoke a momentary pause, sort of a knowing silence before either I or the other person changed the subject.

Everyone in this part of town knows Leroy. He’s an illiterate, small, hunched over man, about sixty or so, and walks with a limp. They say he sold heroin years ago, but had long since cleaned up before plying his new trade. For years, night after night, he would roll a grocery cart from bar to bar, selling the strangest and junk and clothing to the various drunks, students and etc. who would typically see out every night. People in the neighborhood donated their old unwanted stuff to him. At last call, it wasn’t uncommon to see ten or fifteen people surrounding his cart. As these people moved out of the neighborhood, they often donated all the junk back to him. I suspect that 50% of his merchandise was resold two or three times.

At each bar, Leroy would stop in, someone would buy him a drink, the bartender would give him something to eat, and Leroy would mingle for a bit before moving on to the next bar.

Sometime about a year ago or so, it became obvious that Leroy’s heath was beginning to fail. His limp became far more pronounced, there was always an expression of great pain on his face. Eventually, he stopped pushing the cart around and began to beg instead of sell, which must have killed him. Leroy was always too proud to accept handouts.

One night a few months ago, I was sitting at the corner of the bar with some guys from work, and Leroy slowly limped in with a box under his arm. I looked over and nodded. He smiled and limped over to me.

I asked him how he was feeling.

“Ah,” he shook his head and smiled, “I ain’t doin too good, man. The Salvation Army got me some surgery this week, but I need some money so I can get something to eat and a place to stay tonight. Can you buy my stuff?”

I asked him what he was selling.

Leroy pulled the box out from under his arm. “This is all I got.” He opened the box and inside was a brand new pair of work boots, tags still attached and stinking of new leather.

“These are new, where did you get them?” I asked him.

“They were donated to me, but I can’t wear them … they too heavy for my feet. I need twenty dollars for them.”

I checked the size, a perfect fit. I actually needed those boots, I had just bought a house was on the brink of being condemned, and I didn’t own a single pair shoes that didn’t have holes in the soles. Without a second thought, I pulled out twenty dollars and handed it to him.

“Thank you so much” he said.
“You have nothing to thank me for, I need these boots.”

I wished him good luck with the surgery and asked him if he wanted a drink, to which he politely declined and walked out the door.

Now, those work boots were probably the most practical thing I have ever purchased. I’ve used the boots to kick open doors that were swollen shut from years of water damage, scaled the wall in them in the middle of thunderstorms to tarp the roof before the contractors were able to install a new one, and have pulled countless rusty nails out from the soles.

The other night, a friend of mine colloquially known as Cousin and I where hanging out after we had both gotten off of work. The subject of Leroy’s fate was breached once again. I asked him if he thought Leroy was alive. Cousin didn’t know.

Roy, a friend and antique dealer was sitting to our right, perked up and said “It’s a shame about Leroy.”

“You know what happened to Leroy? Is he dead?” Cousin asked.

Roy looked at us both grimly, nodded and responded, “Well … he’s still alive. He’s had diabetes for a while. They had to amputate his legs a few months ago. You won’t be seeing Leroy around anymore.”