The Disappearance of a Homeless Man

Summary

---

While first writing about Concrete for the Indy a year ago, I heard rumors of his past and spent hours with microfiche trying to confirm them. But just as he had changed his name and wouldn't let on to what it had once been, he had shed his past, and his present state was his way of moving as far from it as he could. I learned all I needed to know with Concrete at night, sitting on the bucket he would insist I take while he himself sat on the ground, talking and slowly beginning to laugh some, putting his hand up on my shoulder to let me know he wasn't unaware I cared. Concrete was letting me find what I was looking for then but I still didn't get it, and so I took comfort in that at least he was generous enough to allow me to laugh with him.

This is perhaps a fining close to Concrete's story. There was always mystery about him: When we weren't simply calmed and comforted by his restful presence, we were intrigued by who he was and where he came from. If ever I were to answer these questions publicly, Concrete would lose some of himself, stripped of that guarded part of everyone's sovereignty where they decide which secrets to protect. Perhaps it's the one thing he demanded of us, however silently: You may wonder, and you may even ask, but please, let it be. Concrete's disappearance carries as much mystery as did his life; his absence sends questions reverberating down Ninth Street.

See the full content of this document

Extract

---

The Disappearance of a Homeless Man

Concrete was ageless and he was an institution; if you were paying attention he was always around, the one thing you could count on. Conceding that his way of living couldn't be endured for all that much lo...

See the full content of this document

---