There But For the Grace

Carl Bunn has occupied East Meadow since Sept 11, 2011.

For some people the 10th anniversary of the terrible terrorist attacks on the USA had one meaning, but not really for Carl. Like my grandparent’s view of the anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor, Sept 11 brings up thoughts of planes crashing, horrible deaths and horrendous destruction.

For Carl, that anniversary date meant an end to countless rehabs, detoxes, waiting for county assistance, abuses in shelters and a new found reliance on living life on his terms.

Some people who know of him also call him Eddie, as in “Lucky Eddie”, but Carl is anything but lucky. Unless you count the mildness of our current winter weather, which might get much harsher at a moment’s notice. Carl is like a virtual onion, with many layers. On the outside, he is sweet and friendly, kind and jovial. He looks forward to each day with open optimism and adventure. I have been spending some time with him over the last few weeks since we met instead of hanging out watching the sports game of the week at some local bar/restaurant or other that I usually do. He is kind of my Tuesdays with Morrie, if you catch my reference.

Carl Bunn is physically disabled and has no job. Carl doesn’t not have a cell phone or wristwatch. Carl walks with a limp since 2002, when he was hit by a car crossing a street in Brooklyn. What he does have is an FM radio and cheap headphones to block out the traffic sounds.

This is his prized possession. Last week he broke his headphones while attempting to sleep and the sweet female cashier at the on Hempstead Turnpike by treated him to a new pair. Carl will collect bottles to try to collect enough nickels for a bagel or some rice or a hot chocolate to take away the chill. He will occasionally sit at county bus stops to try to bum a cigarette or two.

Deeper down, as you peel away the onion layers, you can see that he is in pain. Both physical and mental. He is a troubled soul that has a lot of baggage and some days relies on the goodness of others to get through the day. Below the surface you can see some frustration, pessimism, regrets and loneliness. He is full of hope.

Most of his friendships last a duration of about 22 minutes, because that is how long it takes for the next bus to arrive. Some kind people will give him a sandwich, can of soda, bottle of water, an energy bar or fruit. Carl loves oranges and the Vitamin C seems to do him good. I have seen a few local nurses or orderlies share their lunch or snacks with him when they get off shift. A few of my friends seem inclined to donate money to worthy charities in other countries like Tsunami relief in Japan, Help in Haiti, starving children in Africa and schools in India.

I tend to believe that Charity begins at home and the closer to my home area the better. Carl will occasionally talk about his childhood but carefully avoids the memories of the last 10 years or so. Carl has good hygiene habits and surprisingly a good cache of toiletries, which he uses often, instead of sparingly. Carl will often buy a bottle of liquor to self-medicate the pain away, but that creates other issues.

Carl Bunn is a chronic lifetime alcoholic and not in the best of physical health. Carl doesn’t not have a computer or television. He is in his 50’s and has no family to speak of. He finds out current happenings and news by watching TV in the laundromat, while he washes his raggedy second set of clothes or his blanket. Carl is faithful and honest and believes that what he endures will make him a better person.

Deeper down you see that he is depressed, dejected and despondent at times. He knows that right now, for the life he has chosen to lead, he is living on borrowed time. He is willing to walk the streets of our town in what he refers to as freedom and safety, then go to the Office of Social Services behind Hofstra University and get beat up or mugged or wastes his time.

They say, “Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he will eat for a lifetime.” But it is hard to teach a man to fish that won’t go near the water. So instead I bring a Filet-o-fish sandwich and some soup. Once Mother Nature releases the coming NY Winter with frigid temperatures, arctic wind chills and snow, sleet and hale — Carl might likely get very, very ill or freeze to death.

That is a very scary thought. When Carl is sober he is very outgoing and extroverted. When someone gives him some batteries for his radio, packets of hand warmers or a new knit hat, Carl reverts to that joyous child opening presents on Christmas morning. Later the reality of his plight will settle in and he might withdraw a bit. Nevertheless he still smiles that toothy grin.

Carl Bunn is homeless and currently living on the streets of East Meadow. Carl did not have anything to eat all day today. Carl slept on the bench in the concrete bus waiting area in front of NUMC on Hempstead Turnpike last night to avoid the driving rain.

My heart breaks for him.