Pierre Goes Shopping May 14, 2000
For a few days after Easter, it was impossible to
get Pierre out of his mother's house. About the only
thing I heard him say was, "How do people live like
this!"
Around evening of the third day, he finally went
into the basement and got out his first pup tent and
went to the far reaches of his mother's back yard, the
yard Pierre lived in as a grade schooler. Far from
the constant sound of the traffic, Pierre cleared out
the tall grass near the spring where he used to keep a
minnow tank as a youth. The tall cedar trees blocked
out most of the houses in his old neighborhood. The
low land swamp at the bottom of the ridge behind his
mother's house reminded him of some of the creeks in
the Aulneau. The spring was not a Thompson Creek, but
it was running water. I helped him find a little
sting weed to chew on and then walked away from him
and let him be at home away from home. I told him
that I was going to look for eagles flying north, but
we both knew all the good eagles were already in the
North. Pierre needed space.
From a distance I watched Pierre put up his old
pup tent near the spring, start a little fire with
some fluff of cattail, dry needles from the bottom
branches of a pine, and some birch bark pieces. When
he hit the tangle of fluff, needles, and bark with a
spark from his flint and steel, there was a flash of
light from the fluff and then a little fire from the
needles and bark. In a short time Pierre added some
small sticks to the small fire. He was content. A
few geese flew by and a pair of mallards said hello,
but Pierre didn't notice them as much as normal. His
mind was focused on the future. Pierre knew the next
day would be a challenge for him. Pierre usually
didn't think that far ahead, but this was a big day
for him and he needed to form a plan. He would be
taking the public bus to buy a new wardrobe.
Pierre had realized his truck could make it down
the hills of Duluth, but then he had two additional
problems to face. Could he stop the truck before it
ran into Lake Superior? If he was lucky enough to do
that, could he force the truck back up the hill
without blowing the engine? That is why he had spent
three days at home thinking. He decided to try the
public bus to get to the West End and then take a
transfer to 50 Ave West. There was a St. Vincent de
Paul shop in that area. (Pierre doesn't want people
to know the exact street because then the shop would
be overrun like a good fishing spot.)
Pierre rose at dawn, washed in the spring, put on
his fresh pink robe for the first time that season,
and walked to the bus line. Every time a bus stopped
Pierre asked what the rate was. For three hours the
answer was $1.00. Pierre would simply say, "Too
much," and get off the bus and wait some more.
Finally around 9:00 A.M., a driver said, "50
cents and Pierre stayed on the bus. He always holds
out for a good deal. I had told him that I would
follow at a distance so I got on the bus a block
later.
We travel like that for several reasons. First
of all I don't want people to think we are together.
I tell Pierre that if he gets into a little trouble, I
can claim to be a bystander and can be a witness in
court in his behalf. If he gets in way over his head,
I can just walk away, save myself some bruises and a
jail fine, and be there to bail him out. It has always
worked in the past so we stick with that plan. Since
I am the watcher, I always go to the back of the bus and Pierre
sits
up front.
It was an uneventful trip down the hill. The bus
stopped every time the driver put on his brakes.
Pierre did count four road kills, but they were all
too flat to tell what they had been. Besides the crows
had taken all the good meat. It wasn't like a truck
trip on the Angle where a road kill is good for four
or five days.
We walked into St. Vincent's de Paul about five
minutes apart. I like to give Pierre a little time to
check out the women's fashions. When I walk in the
door that is his signal to get to the shirts and pants
before I do - we are talking men's clothes, of course.
At one time it used to take Pierre hours to
decide what new fashions should he go with. Should he
go with the 60's look or the 70's? After many long,
heart to heart talks I convinced Pierre that no one on
the Angle can tell one fashion from the next except
Jim Dingle who looks at magazines sometimes. Most of
the other people don't even see each other except at a
distance or at Jerry's Bar. There most people's eyes
are a little blurry after 7:00 P.M. so they wouldn't
even notice if some clothes were forty years old or
just thirty. To be honest they might not even
remember if you were there. Sometimes Pierre could
not even remember if he was there.
Now Pierre always remembers this fashion tip when
it comes to color - "You are always ahead when you go
with red." There is a much less chance of getting
shot if you wear red, especially during deer hunting
season. During the rest of the year, it is always
easier for the divers to find your body if you are
dressed in red rather than blue or green if you fall
out of a boat or break through the ice. When you
think about it, why would anyone wear anything besides
red!
The fabric is a no brainer. If it isn't made of
wool, it is useless. If it is too warm to wear wool,
it is too warm to wear clothes. Wool will keep you
warm even it is wet so that might keep you from dying
in the cold and snow. Mice don't like to chew on wool
or make a nest in it. That fact alone will give you a
couple extra years between washings.
Pierre spent all the money in his left shoe to
fill up two paper bags with as much bright red, wool
clothes as possible. He did have to settle for some
pink and orange, but that was close enough. Then he
ran to the bus stop to get a bus before the rates went
up for the rush hour. It had been a big day, but a
bigger adventure was still ahead on the trip home. I
watched him from a distance wearing my new Eagles
letterman's jacket from St. Vincent de Paul.
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