Something About Ramon

Had I not relocated to Albuquerque

from St. Louis in 1991, I more than

likely would have never met Ramon.

I had started my job at Project Hart

which was a program to assist and

collect data on the homeless drug

and alcohol addicted. Ramon was a

lifelong indigent who had signed

up for the program. He figured a

place to eat and sleep as a tempo-

rary escape from his normal wan-

dering intoxicated ways would afford

him a sort of Holiday of a Lifetime

with the understanding, he planned on

returning to the harsh and embattled

lifetime of familiarity. In a way, which

may seem strange to most folks, he

loved the freedom of the streets,

accepting his life-style and coveted

dependency on cheap liquor and wine.

Ramon was a quiet an unassuming man.

His face, rutted deeply from broken

bottles and blades, revealed battle scars

of honor he wore proudly, a flesh and

blood testament to heroic survival. Oh

and did he ever have harrowing stories

to tell about the places he had been,

the scuffles and fights won and lost.

He would be the first to admit, there

would be no awards or honorariums

for the likes of him, no books written,

nor movies made of his audacious

escapades. No one really gives a damn,

he would say. Ramon left Project Hart

after two weeks of sober living in relative

comfort and safety, returning to his rightful

place on the hardened streets of Albuquerque.

He would break his fast on alcohol, sharing

again some cheap wine to oblivious intox-

ication with his compinches. Days later,

I was told by a new man to the program

that Ramon had passed out drunk, and

died in the park when an ember from

burning twigs and trash which kept them

warm caught his blanket on fire. We tried

to save him, his amigo said, but it was too

late. I got to thinking that something should

be said to shed a light on the lives of those

who are on the streets with stories to tell.

I often think of those who survive and die

out there every day. One of them especially

comes to mind—again, Ramon was his name.

Chris Hanch 12-8-18