A woman from the past in search of a future

I saw yet another fabulous Otter Productions concert tonight: John Hiatt at the Fremont Theatre in SLO (Thank you, Bruce Howard). One of my favorite singer-songwriters, he played solo acoustic with many lighthearted stories in between. Since I was solo myself, I got to plop in a single seat fourth row from the front after socializing with many old familiar faces. It was a grand night.

I decided to take the opportunity to fill up my gas tank, so I hit a station close to downtown. I poked the nozzle in and let her rip, then went to wash some mystery gunk off my windshield when I heard, “Hey! Dianne! Is that you, Dianne? Lady Tie Di?” I thought that’s what I’d heard.

Looking around to confirm this, I saw a spritely figure skipping out of the darkness at the side of the parking lot. “It IS you! I knew it!”

An old acquaintance from Cambria: I’d not seen this woman in several years. Smiling and spouting words of love and affection, we embraced and said the usual pleasantries you say when you don’t know quite what else to say. At least, that’s what came out of my mouth. She, on the other hand, was, well, had a lot to say.

As I was trying to keep up with her line of thought, I was taking in her overall attire and being. When I see a woman with hair that looks worse than mine, I know she’s fallen on hard times. I joke, but it’s true, and it broke my heart. I’d known she’d had some issues in the past but. …

It was so, so cold out, and I interrupted her to ask if she was warm enough.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve got stuff!”

She kept pulling names out of the ether of longtime Cambrians for me to send love to and then would follow the request with a story about them and 50 other thoughts in a four-second time span. I asked again.

“Do you need another coat? You can have this one.”

I’d recently inherited a couple of very nice longer coats and was wearing my favorite of them, a brown, faux fleece with a hood.

“No, I’m warm enough. Besides, that’s too nice! “

“Everyone deserves a nice coat.”

She changed the subject and kind of started skipping off talking about Jesus and someone she was supposedly hooked up with. While her conversation was basically directed at me, one couldn’t help but notice the attention she was drawing. Somewhere in her self-soothing monologue, she mentioned someone had given her $10 and saved her life, several more Cambrian names, referenced many other people whom I had no idea about. We shouted wishes of love to each other and she retreated back into the shadows.

I pulled out of the station onto Santa Rosa, thought for just a few seconds and turned back into the other driveway to where she was bouncing around. I realized I had gotten a good tip at work this afternoon, so I could certainly spare that. She picked up like I’d never left. That’s when I noticed two law enforcement vehicles on the other side of the lot. Yep, their gazes fell our way.

I slipped my hand into her pocket with the money, found her box of cigarettes and figured that might be a safer place than just the loose fabric. She didn’t even realize it. As the two female officers strolled over, she whispered nervously if I could help her to find a hotel.

“Maybe they can help you! They are here to protect and serve.”

“Do you think?”

She launched into her renewed one-sided conversation at them.

I remained, just to witness how this sad situation would be handled. To their credit, they were calm and respectful (which my friend even acknowledged).

“We’re here to ask you to leave the premises and not return. Where are you going tonight?”

“Um, I’m going to try to get a hold of my son. …” (I’m not sure where her two grown sons live anymore.)

It was minutes away from midnight and about to rain again. A woman, alone.

“You can try the Prado Day Center — they may be open and have a warming room there” they offered.

Mind you, we were on Santa Rosa Boulevard, almost to Foothill. My friend stated it was too far. I could also see by the speed of the words racing out of her mouth and her pacing, she was getting agitated, and I almost couldn’t blame her. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I hoped she would at least get two hots and a cot.

I walked over, took off the coat and told her I hadn’t any other resources to offer her but that and a good long hug. I hoped my doing this assured the officers this was a woman with a good heart, just a wounded soul. Of course, they were looking at my car, so I don’t know what impression they were getting.

As I make my bedtime smoothie with the heater cranked up, I wonder what resources I’d overlooked or was hoarding.

Blessings on your journey, sister. You are what any of us could be at any time.

This story was originally published March 16, 2016 at 8:45 AM with the headline "A woman from the past in search of a future."