Sam

I led Ivan up the cracked concrete stairs to the Old Man's house. As he liked to do on warm evenings, he was sitting out on the comfortable front porch. A book or newspaper usually occupied his hands. Eyes are the windows of the soul, but hands tell the history. His hands were slightly knotted with arthritis, scarred, large and at the same time graceful. I imagined that a pianist turned prizefighter would have similar hands. His long, rangy body sprawled in the big wicker chair, his age thickened body naturally trying to assume a position that belongs to a younger man. He once said to me “A gal I run with once said to me, 'Sam, you just don't look right unless you're leanin' on something'” And he laughed the slow rolling rumble that seemed to be more at home on a large motor than a human.

As we stepped up onto the porch, Sam pulled his glasses off and set his paper aside. A boombox sitting on the table at his elbow played antique blues. Bessie Smith, I think. He folded his legs and slowly rose to his feet. Though stooped some with age, he was still well over six feet. “Well howdy Joe. Who's your young friend?”

“Sam, this is Ivan. He's a friend of mine who just dropped by as he was passing through”

Ivan stepped forward and let his hand be engulfed in the long spider-like hand offered by Sam. I could see him brace for a power squeeze. But that wasn't Sam's way.

Sam gestured to other wicker chairs saying “Sit. Pull up a seat. there's a few beers in the fridge, if you like”

“Actually I think I like what you have there” nodding at the tumbler of amber liquid sitting near the boombox.

Sam rolled his eyes “Oh of course. Here I am, a senior citizen on a fixed income; and you, a young able bodied wage earner want to drink my liquor cabinet dry. And I suppose the pup wants to do his share of damage too. So boy, are you up to a man's drink?”

Ivan grinned, “Oh I guess I could try some.” I snorted. Ivan had worked with Eyeball on his small still almost since the time he could walk. The kid probably knew more about spirits than Sam and I put together.

Moments later we three sat, glasses in hand. A comfortable silence fell amongst us as we let our senses stretch out and feel the closing day. The evening was warm, but as the shadows crept up the porch, the first cent of summer;s death touched my skin. We all felt it as we savored the waning of the day, the smoky scotch defying the touch of chill.

Sam sighed contentedly, gently breaking the silence “So, what brings you two all the way up the steps? Surely you arent enduring my company just for some hooch.”

“Actually it is your 'hooch'. That and to let you know that Ivan is gonna throw a sleeping bag on the floor of the garage for a couple days. I didnt want you beating the hell out of him thinking he's a thief”

“Well now that's got to be uncomforable. Of course I dont mind you having a guest. But it does seem a bit of a poor host to make him sleep on the cold concrete like that.”

Ivan spoke up from examining and article in Sam's paper. “Oh it's okay. A dry spot is all good”

Sam rumbled a chuckle “I dont doubt your ability to endure it. I was shaming Joe for being a poor host and not oferring his bed. He;d make a lousy bedouin.” He paused a moment “of course we could make room for you in this nice wamr house and leave Joe out in the cold, eh?”

Ivan grinned “Good idea. But I couldnt.”

“So? You have a disease that requires sleeping on cold concrete?”

“Nope. But it would seem as if we just came to see you to get a warm room for me. Not polite”

Sam looked genuinely surprised. “Oh really. When did they start teaching manners again? Never mind.” He stroked his chin, day old whiskers rasping.”Well,” he drawled how about if I put you both up in new digs and by doing so, you do me a turn?”

“Oh?” I said with my usual insight.

“Well I cant go into this with a dry mouth” Sam said as he poured another double finger in each of our glasses. He took a sip and savore the dark loquor. “ah. Liquor, they say is the devil. And it is true, he will posess your sopul if you let him. Still, it is good to go a few rounds with Old Scratch now and again, to stay in shape”

“So, young Ivan, Joe knows my story. But he will just have to bear with an abreviated version and both of you will have to put up with an old man's rambling toward the point.” He sipped an sighed again. “After I left the Merchant Marine, I built up a machining business. Spent a good number of years at it. Business went real well. Well enough to eventually buy a nice building outright and stop paying rent. Now some time ago, I sold off the business. But not the building. Why, I dont really know. Sentiment, I guess. I rented it out a few times. But for the last couple years, it has been empty. Not a lot of call for industrial spaces.

Now, look around here. Joe, see anything different?”

“Of course. You have a whole hell off a lot of neighbors now”
When I had first started renting the garage from Sam as an economy sized safety deposti box, just about all of Sam's neighbors were lower income folks in single family houses. The houses mostly run down with urban lawns. That is brown and dead or overtaken by weeds. Landscaping, maintenance and paint sacrificed in the name of survival at minimum wage. steady stream of five hundred buck cars stopping through in a last ownership before the scrapyard final stop.

Recently the entrepreneurs had discovered the area. First the speculators purchased houses and did basic repairs, then young couple extended the repairs and finally the hip urban families paid the big bucks. And whole sections of adjacent lots of houses, fine old relics of craftsmanship had been sacrificed to make way for new 'townhomes' as they call them these days. I hadnt really paid much attention until I discovered that Nguyen's diner had been split to become a Starbucks and a Quiznos. Yup, the hood was really going to hell.

“Exactly”nodded Sam. “And unlike my old neighbor's these ones are nosy as hell. In fact, I had to get this here” he patted the boombox “because folks didnt like the music. And instead fo handling it like adults, they called the cops”

I laughed “You mean you preferred Vern's method?”

Vernon used to live directly across the street. Normally things went smotthly along. But sometimes Vern would have a few beers and get sick of the old blues rolling off the porch of Sam's place and stumble out into the front yard, usuay only wearing stained boxers and starte yelling, puncuating sentences with items thrown in the direction of Sam's house. And Sam would turn things down for a couple days. It wasnt the most efficient system, but it worked for them.

“Yeah. Vern was an ornery coot, but I miss him. Sometimes. Anyhow, the kind of folks we have around here would love to see me gone. In fact