A tale of woe. How I met Uncle Philby.

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

The scary little village that’s close to me. You know the one where they’re sure I’m insane?

A guy lived there.
He was homeless, I guess. Some people said he had a house he just preferred to be out and about.
He was always on the street. The scary gas station wouldn’t let him in. He smelled. He would ask people to get him stuff inside. Mostly beer. Sometimes snacks.

There was an empty store front. The roof was bad. So many birds made the place their home. The floor was covered with bird droppings. Yuck. Uncle Philby could, often be seen inside sitting in a dilapidated old chair. Birds all around him. He was accepted as a bird-of-the-feather.

I stopped at the gas station once. Pumped my gas. I was unaware of someone there when I heard “I know your husband”, I’ve heard that many times. Big Wrek is kinda famous in these parts. I turned around and was immediately shocked. It was Uncle Philby.
I said…erm…mumbled something. Stopped the gas pump and put the cap on and walked away. I almost got to the door when there was a tap on my shoulder. I nearly evaporated. Uncle Philby sez, “Can you get me a beer”. Umm? “Yeah, sure, what kind?”
He tells me and hands me $3.
I’m not sure I heard him, so I ask him again.

Oh, god. I’m standing 2 feet from this man. I realize he’s tiny. There’s a feather stuck to his scruffy face. His hands are the dirtiest hands I’ve ever seen. I can’t look at his face and mouth moving anymore. I look down. One foot looks ok. Old boots. The right boot is cut open. His big toe is pointing to the sky. A toenail is twisted and at least 2 inches long. Yellow, nasty and gross. A feather floats down and lands on the ground by his foot. I realize he’s still talking. He sez “Lady, did you hear me?” “Get me an Old E. malt liquor”
I said ok, real fast. The smell was horrendous. I got in the door.

The clerk gave me a knowing look. I got the beer. Paid for my gas and separately the clerk punched up the cost of the beer. Stuck it in 2 paper sacks and put the change in the sacks. Clearly she knew the routine. I didn’t question her.

I stop and think a minute. Not long. I’m considered kinda crazy in this town too. I must not add to the urban legend. I go out.
I hand Uncle Philby the sack and run to my car. I’m not interacting with him any more.

Oh, crap. I gotta make sure I don’t get that weird.
I gotta make a list: I’m never hanging
around on the street, I’m never sitting in a storefront with birds, I’m gonna get regular pedicures and keep my hands clean. And I’m always gonna wear deorderant. Always.

The other day Big Wrek said Uncle Philby was found dead in the storefront.

Added to list: Don’t die in a storefront. Ever.

2

Never try to avoid someone else’s weird. You gotta find your own (if you haven’t already). :slight_smile:

3

Such a sad existence. But what’s probably even sadder is what came before. Maybe it was a single mugging with a blow to the head, but more likely it was sustained trauma, long-term beating by abusive parents, or front lines experience in a war. Whatever the reason, his way of life was fine with him, because he had peace, and an occasional beer. He could sit in his little chair and commune with peaceful creatures who accepted him, just as he was. And there was nobody who needed anything from him, or who ever hounded him for anything. No bills and no alarm clock.

And given whatever it was that shaped his perspective on life, that was enough.

4

Too many people never even get that.
~VOW

5

You’re gonna need to narrow this down to a Hemisphere, or maybe a Continent.

6

that would be the western hemisphere

7

I just asked Mr.Wrekker what happened to Uncle Philbys body and where was he buried. He said they autopsied him to rule out foul (fowl:)) play. The county was ready to bury him in a paupers grave when his Sister came and claimed his body and had him cremated.
She was from Texas.

That just goes to show you. Somebody, somewhere loves you.

Made me happy to hear that.

8

Your thread titles make me hear music. “Bad, bad, bad” is a Supersuckers song, and “Philby” is a Rory Gallagher song.

9

Really? I’ll go look those up. (:))

10

I’ve got you covered:
Bad, Bad, Bad The Supersuckers "Bad Bad Bad" - YouTube
Philby Philby - YouTube

11

Philby may have been a Vietnam vet. It sounds like he was in that age range

Some of those vets came back badly traumatized.

I didn’t realize the unwashed could be denied service in a store. I’ve run into a few people in Little Roce that were memorable. You know it’s bad when the odor lingers after they leave.

12

That is my understanding **Acey **, he was an Army vet in the VietNam era.
I don’t think a store or place of business can ban you for being stinky. This little town and the folks who have businesses are not known for going by the letter of the law.

13

Thanks, Bobot.

14

On the contrary, IANAL but my understanding is a business can refuse service to anyone UNLESS they are discriminating against a “protected group” (that is, the discrimination is based on race, religion or national origin). A public business is within their rights in refusing service to someone who doesn’t meet their dress code, for example (“no shirt, no shoes no service” is legal). They do have to enforce it consistently though. They can’t bar Uncle Philby for being stinky and then let Bubba the owner’s nephew in even though he’s just as stinky.

15

Just as a disclosure Uncle Philby was african/american.

16

This makes me think of a story I heard about a guy from my home town.

After he graduated high school he went out west, thinking California was better than another Midwest winter maybe. But after awhile he stopped coming home or staying in touch. The family looked into it and found out he’d gotten mixed up in drugs. They begged and pleaded to come home or get help etc., but he was having none of it. He disappeared, not wanting to be hassled or judged or whatever.

A couple years ago they got a call that he had died…he was probably at least in his 60s. A few of the family went out to bring him home for burial and they got the story. It turned out that he had been getting a social security check and working odd jobs. He made no trouble, kept to himself, didn’t have a girlfriend, and rented a tiny room. And he did drugs as his finances permitted.

I think the family loved him; he just chose drugs over them.

17

The Trick is knowing where.

18

I have to agree.

19

--------bump-update----

Big Wrek is buying a house in the scary little town. He feels the calling of ‘Landlord’
I feel like a disaster will be forthcoming.
Jeez! Him and his schemes!!

Anywhoo, the house next to this house he’s buying was Uncle Philbys house.
Big Wrek says you can’t see the house for Kudzu vines. He’s got a call to someone about it. We think it’s Uncle Philbys son
I’m shocked!

20

The call came through. He’s actually Uncle Philbys nephew. He wants no part of the house. He offered the house and lot to Big Wrek for really cheap. I think he’s gonna buy it and just bulldoze the whole thing.

Personally, I’d like to see inside Philbys house. It’s just no telling what’s in there. I don’t think Mr.Wrekker is gonna wait on me. He wants to get the house he bought fixed up and ready to rent out.

Alas, I’ll never know the true backstory of Uncle Philby.