James Preston SF

It was a Saturday night about six weeks ago around seven p.m.

I was cleaning the store up a bit when I started to hear some loud crashing about, every thirty seconds or so, against the corner of the building. After four or five times of this I decided to investigate. As I took a few steps out the door, a stuffed backpack fell from the sky so close in front of me that it was only inches from my nose as it passed downward to a heavy thud on the sidewalk. If it would of hit me it could have done great physical harm to me including perhaps breaking my neck. There to pick up the pack for another skyward toss was a man who I later found out is named Richard. Upset, but holding my cool, I asked him what he was doing. He looked at me with saucer like dilated eyes and explained how he was determined to knock out the surveillance cameras located fourteen feet over our heads, attached to the building.

He was convinced that "big brother was watching". I explained to him that the cameras were owned and operated by Amal and her brothers at the market two doors down. After a good ten minutes of convincing him, he seemed to have got it.

About twenty minutes later the familiar sound returned. This time as I walked outside, Richards skateboard fell from above almost sheering the face of a woman who screamed with surprise as it hit the ground beside her.

I scolded Richard but his paranoia and whatever drug he seemed to be on had escalated beyond rational communication.

I went in and called the Police who responded promptly and took Richard away.

And so ended my encounter with Richard, or so I thought.

I had never noticed Richard around here before. I figured he was one of those who would wake up the next morning in jail with no memory of where he last was, and when released would find his way back to where ever he was from.

The following morning I was greeted by Richard as I approached my store to open for the day.

He was very apologetic for his behavior the previous evening. I explained to him my level of tolerance and that he had breached that by endangering people. He apologized over and over assuring me that he means no harm to anyone.

Richard is one who is easy to communicate with when he is sober or slightly buzzed.

When he is beyond that, he seems to quickly lose regard for the situation here. He has become more aware of who Rick and I are and has integrated into the local "tribe" and surroundings with more and more respect ever since the night we first met.

Now , The Meteorite.

A local artist and unique character, that I have known for a dozen years at least, has the name Fred.

Fred deserves and will get a post all about him here, eventually.

Several weeks ago Fred told me about a friend of his who has some cool meteorites and that he was going to send him in to show them to me. Responding that I had no interest in purchasing rocks, Fred told me thatI should at least check them out.

A week later a man in his mid twenties came in with a meteorite that was just smaller than the palm of my hand. He said it was his last and favorite one, and that his mom found them in Arizona many years ago. He went on to tell me how it is worth hundreds of dollars and that he would let me have it for forty dollars so that he could get enough food and gas to get him up north for the next chapter in his life. He had received the meteorites for free and they had gotten him far in his journey.

So I helped him out and bought the meteorite for forty dollars. I soon had another customer, so I placed it on top of a nearby tall display case. I never had much time to check it out.

When I came to work yesterday with my sixteen year old son, Uriah, the meteorite was in the window display on the corner. Later in the day I took it out to show Uriah. A bit later I went outside to see the day, and Richard was on the corner.

He started talking to me about "his" meteorite and that he would like it back soon. I thought he was joking. He thought I was joking him when I was explaining that it was mine and how I had acquired it. When he realized that I was serious , he quickly became angry and demanded it back.

He told me that he had bought it from a guy up the street a week or so ago and how the cops took it from him and threw it in the park thinking it was just a rock. He went on to explain that he convinced a woman officer of the importance of the rock and how she went and found it and gave it back to him when they released him from another visit to jail.

I told him to calm down and that there must be an explanation. I suggested that perhaps someone had stolen it from my store and then sold it to him. He responded defensively asking if I was accusing him of stealing it. I told him "no" and explained the theory a second time. He was still upset and seemed to want a commitment or assurance that he was getting his meteorite back before he was going to let me pass peacefully back into my store. I assured him that it was obviously more important to him than me and if it came down to it he could have it. He responded how he was not going to pay forty dollars for it. I also suggested that maybe there are two meteorites, although that seemed unlikely. I suggested that I go in and look around for another meteorite and to call Rick ,who he had left it with to put in the window.

Upon searching nervously for a few minutes, I remembered where I had placed it later in the evening of the day I had bought it. It was there , and mine was bigger! Apparently size matters when it comes to meteorites.

I returned outside and Richard shot me a glare. I handed him his meteorite and then showed him mine, (meteorite that is). He responded with joyous relief and then proceeded to give me an unexpected hug.

Richard declined a photo with his meteorite. He says he does not want his photo with it in case he has to use it to break something with.