Hal

Let me tell you about my good friend Hal. 

I first met Hal at a homeless church in Downtown Houston. We didn't talk much, but I kind of watched him from a distance. Some of my friends who I played in the band and served food with took a better liking to him than I did. He didn't really fit my personality type, so we never really had any deep conversations while we were there.

However, my friend Jody fell in love with the guy. And after awhile, Jody got the sense that Hal was willing to do whatever it took to get off the streets. He was an anomaly for a homeless person. He didn't drink, didn't do drugs, didn't have any mental disorders, and wanted to get on his feet. I have yet to meet a homeless person who's met all of these criteria like Hal did.

And so, Jody and Hal began the long, hard process of getting him from the streets and onto his feet again. It'd been five years on the streets, so as you can imagine there was a long haul ahead. From getting a driver's license, to getting a job, to even getting a pair of shoes, there was a lot of work to do. But Hal insisted. At sixty or so years old, he was willing to go to any length to start his life over. One of the things he made sure to tell me several times was, "I never flew signs. I don't know how people could do that. I could never do that."

Through the help of Jody and our other friends from Ecclesia Clear Lake church, we were able to watch as Hal went from sleeping on sidewalks to sleeping in his own bed and making his own coffee. 

And that's where I came in. 

I lived in Bacliff at the time, and had a two room house. No one was occupying the other room, so when Hal was ready to live somewhere, it made perfect sense to come live with me. I didn't have a family or a roommate, and it was kind of lonely living there by myself. 

Right off the bat, I knew we were gonna get along well. And as it turned out, we never once had an argument or a fight. The first night he moved in, I thought it'd be a good idea to take him out on the town. So, the first place we went was a hole-in-the-wall seafood restaurant in San Leon called Gilhoolie's. He'd never had fried catfish before, so that's what he got. I forgot, however, that the restaurant was cash only, and all I had to pay for the food was my debit card. That put me in a real awkward position. I assumed that since Hal had just come off the streets, he didn't have any money on him. If he did, he probably didn't have enough to make it through the week if he paid for the meal. The meal was forty dollars.

When I told Hal about the dilemma, he just said, "Don't worry about it! I've got this. You've done enough for me already." I kept trying to argue that I could go to the ATM at the nearby store to get some money because I was humiliated by the thought of putting Hal in this position. But he wasn't having any of it. My humiliation turned to humility as I accepted that Hal had just as much to offer as I did, and probably more. 

After we ate, I took him to the Kemah Boardwalk and we rode the roller coaster. He loved it, and I loved seeing a sixty year old giggle like a child. 

I was going to school at the time, and was taking an anthropology course that required me to do several interviews. The topic I chose to interview on was money. I had to get two different perspectives on money. So, I chose Hal as one of my interviewees. It really helped change my perspective on Hal. My other interviewee was a pastor in Texas City. 

The most interesting thing I took from the interviews was, Hal's theme was saving money and not going into debt no matter what. And the theme in the pastor's interview was spending years getting out of debt. I found it striking that the one who had all the money had spent most of his years building up debt. The one who didn't have money spent most of his years putting as much away as possible. 

Hal was an anomaly in my eyes.

He was the best roommate I'd ever had. He never complained. He never lied. He always kept his word. He was always willing to listen but also willing to respectfully ask hard questions. 

He would surprise me sometimes with a Dr. Pepper or a Hershey's bar hidden in the door of the fridge. He took a liking to the stray cats that would show up on our porch looking for something to eat. He loved on our neighbor who happened to be a big-time drug dealer, and earned the right to have meaningful conversations with the guy. 

He loved old Westerns, especially John Wayne movies. Every time I'd walk into the house, he'd be watching some old black-and-white movie that I'd never heard of. But he also loved modern shows as well, like Big Bang Theory. His laugh was contagious. It was real. It would make me laugh just listening to it. 

Hal didn't really have any family besides a brother who lives in Georgia that he hadn't seen in over thirty years. He came from a family that was severely dysfunctional. Both his parents were alcoholics, and they split up when Hal was very young. Hal went with his dad and his brother went with his mom. They would only see each other a couple more times after that. The experiences he had with his parents taught Hal that drinking was not an option if he wanted a good life. And neither was financial debt. 

When I first met Hal, I had a lot of bias about homeless people. I always looked at it as one person helping the other. The rich man helping the poor man. The person who had it all helping the person who had nothing. But it didn't take long for Hal to smash this concept for me. He completely transformed my thinking on the subject. What he brought to the table were things that I couldn't provide and didn't know how to provide. The relationship between us was never dependent, but always interdependent. We cared for each other. 

A week ago today, Hal died from a cancer that had spread its way all throughout his body. He was diagnosed less than a year ago, and up until two weeks prior, he was talkative and energetic. But the last two weeks really took a toll on him. He couldn't muster up the strength to talk, much less get out of bed.

But Hal was ready. He'd made it clear to the nurses that if he was in a position where he wasn't conscious, then he was ready to go. He didn't want to further his life if he couldn't be a willing participant in the process. But he had accepted his fate long before his last  breath, and he lived every breath to the fullest. 

Hal was an anomaly, and he left a legacy behind that those of us who knew him will remember for the rest of our lives. 

We miss you and we love you buddy. Grace and peace.