My family has this homeless friend, and his name is Jhon (Not to be confused with John... it's Jay-hawn. Naturally). Jhon would come over to my house on most Sunday mornings, and we would make him breakfast (usually eggs, salsa and toast) and my dad would shave him, except for on his neck during the winter, as it helped to keep him warm. I wish I had the time to write down all of the hilarious things about this man. Let me give you a quick sum up.
He's in his 50's, though we're not sure of his exact age. I think. He is mostly deaf and mute, though he has this way of whispering that sounds like talking, and he can hear you better if you speak directly into his ear or if he can feel the vibrations in your throat with his hand. He loves attention. If he's holding a glass plate, he'll more often than not ask what would happen if he were to drop the plate on the floor, and somewhat eggs us on, saying "eh? eh?" as he holds it above the floor. If there is a knife in his presence, he will sometimes take it, and hold it up to his chest, and smile as he asks us what would happen if he pushed it into him, and if he should do it. At first we would, naturally, freak out and say "NO JHON NO... you do NOT want to do that." But, after the first hundred times, we learned to say "Oh yeah! Do it! Go on..." At which point he would laugh his Jhon, mute-like laugh and shrug it off.
He only eats with spoons, never forks, no matter what he's eating. He writes down everything that he eats in a notebook, and he won't eat anything that has over 10 grams of sugar in it, as he says it will give him a headache. He does not take into account serving size, but so long as the box says 10 grams or less, it's a-okay. He cannot see objects that are bright colors, like bright yellow or orange. He always remembers our birthdays, and even brings us presents such as left shoes, cacti, or red ballpoint pens. When he comes over, he asks, without fail, to at least one person: "Are you surprised to see me??" Complete with an ecstatic grin.
Growing up, I probably saw Jhon at least once every week, from the time I was what... 8 years old? Around that, I'd say. Today is the first time that I've seen Jhon in probably 3 years. Ish. Since I moved away from home. I was walking out of the house, as he was about to ring the doorbell and knock. Even though I had opened the door, which he could obviously see, he did his signature ring and knock, announcing his arrival: 3 doorbell rings, with a sufficient pause between each, and 3 door knocks, also with pauses.
Him: Is Dad Gunther here?
Me: Hmm... who? (He was referring to my dad.)
Him: Dad Gunther... Or... Mom Gunther...?
Me: Nope... I think you have the wrong house. (And I began to shut the door.)
Him: Is this (insert address here)?
Me: Nope.
I then shut the door in his face. Buuut... opened it a second later, laughing. He laughed, and proceeded to come inside, with my help, as he has a hard time getting over steps on his own. This is basically how our conversation went from that point on:
Him: The door got smaller (he was confused why there was less space than usual, though it was due to a bike being in front of part of the door)!
Me: Nope, I think you got bigger (patting his stomach)!
Him: *laughing his Jhon laugh* Are you surprised to see me??
Me: I am! Are you surprised to see ME?
Him: Yep! Are you Marizata?
Me: Nope. Melissa.
Him: Melissata? The one from Illinois?
Me: Nope. Utah...
He always confuses us. And asks us which sibling we are, based on first and middle initial. "Are you A period D period?" "Nope..." "Are you C period M period?" "Nope..." Until we either told him which of my siblings we were or until he guessed.
Jhon is truly an incredible person. Several families have offered him a place to live and a roof for over his head. His response? "Why would I want to live in your small house, when all the world is my home?" He does not drink, he does not do drugs, and he was actually baptized as a member of the church several years ago, and comes to church is his torn jeans, mismatched shoes and often causing a bit of a stir upon arrival. We love him all the more because of it. How great is that, that he has nothing, and is simply content with the clothes on his back and the notebook in his hands.
How humbling.
(Jhon saying "Hi" in his own version of sign language, which my family is quite fluent in. He insisted that we take this picture 3 times until his hand was in it.)It was after this point that he announced to me that he has yet to have his bath this month. Mkay, no more arm around my neck...
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