Marcus

  There was a guy I met at Oliver Gospel Mission by the name of Marcus Clinkscales.  He was my second-best friend on the street.  My first best friend was Bruce.  Both were very creative people.  I seem to gravitate toward creative people.  Marcus was a great writer, but he had issues with depression and family.  We talked about that stuff, as we had a lot in common.

 When I got off of the street, I tried to help Marcus get off too.  He couldn't hold down a job, because he would get angry easily.  He needed some form of income to get off of the street.  It was a HUD requirement.  He tried to get disability but was turned down.  He blamed the lawyer handling his case, but he really didn't have much of a case to start with.  

 Early in the morning one day, I got a call from him.  He was in a gazebo in a park.  He was threatening to kill himself.  I told him to not do it, until I could get down there.  It was pouring down rain that morning, and I took the bus downtown and then walked several blocks to where he was.  He told me that no one would help him, and it would be better if he just committed suicide.  I asked him to give me three hours, before he did it.  I called a guy, who had helped me get off of the street, to see if he could help Marcus.  Tom found Marcus and got him admitted to the hospital.  Later that morning, I called the Suicide Helpline to ask them for help for Marcus.  What could I say to him?  They gave me some good tips, and they asked me for Marcus's phone number to keep up with him.  Tom got Marcus into an apartment and into the USC Supportive Housing program.  The same one that I had been in.

 The apartment was a few miles from where I lived.  It was a short bus ride to visit him.  I tried to go to see him as often as I could.  He was also in treatment for his mental issues, but he didn't like the therapist.  Marcus was put on medication for his depression.  Unfortunately, he also drank beer.  I told him that he shouldn't drink beer, because it caused the medication not to work.  He didn't care, but he couldn't figure out why the medication didn't work.  He didn't believe me.  

 To pass the time, Marcus would write.  He was working on a screenplay about zombies.  I read some of it, but it was a little too dark for me.  He asked me to contact some of my friends in the movie business to see if anyone would be interested in his work.  No one was.  He did perform portions of his work at a couple of showcases in Columbia.  They were well received.  He got a job washing cars at a local carwash.  That helped with the HUD requirements.  

 I asked him if he would like to join my church.  He agreed to do so.  He knew a woman in the choir.  He only came to a service once, as he was kind of freaked out by the crowd.  However, he did read the Bible and was a Christian.  He was moved to another apartment in a worse neighborhood in town.  It was near a liquor store, as well as a den of drug dealers.  He kept telling me that he was coming back to church, as the new apartment was closer.  He didn't.  I contacted a church near where he lived and asked them to reach out to Marcus.  They sent someone to visit with him, and he talked with that person.  But, Marcus wanted to live his life on his own terms.  Sitting at home and drinking beer.  Writing his screenplay and wondering why the meds didn't help.  

 One day, I got a call from his case manager at USC Supportive Housing.  She told me that Marcus had died.  My immediate thought was that he had listened to the demons and killed himself.  I found out later that Marcus had a clot in his lung and had a pulmonary embolism while walking on the sidewalk near Providence Hospital.  Somebody found him and rushed him to the hospital, but he was gone.  His case manager called his family, who lived out of town.  I called the church to see if they could set up a memorial service.  It all came together.  

 Marcus had an infectious laugh.  He wrote a song about me that I hated, but he would sing it anyway.  He had a creative soul.  He was one of a kind.  

Harbison

  There is perhaps a little-known gem in the Columbia area.  It is the Harbison Theatre on the campus of Midlands Tech in Irmo.  It is a relatively small place, maybe 200 or so seats.  The intimacy of the place provides a close-up view of the stage.  The front row is almost right on the stage.  

 I had heard that a traveling group from Second City in Chicago would be performing.  If you are not familiar with Second City, it is the premier improvisational group in the country.  Many performers on Saturday Night Live came from Second City including John Belushi, Bill Murray, Gilda Radner, Dan Aykroyd, Chris Farley, Mike Myers, Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Aidy Bryant and more.  The group coming to Columbia was not as famous as those, but they might be one day.  Back in 1975, I directed an improvisational group at PC as part of my Senior project.  The concept was not well known back then, but it has come into its own now.

 I took the bus to Walmart in Harbison, which was the last stop on the route.  I had to walk the rest of the way to the theatre, which was about a 45-minute walk with very little sidewalks and a lot of uphill challenges.  Due to my breathing issues, I have a hard time with walking uphill.  I was determined to get there.  I was sitting on the second row and scared that they would ask for audience participation.  In the Theatre, there is an old adage that you are only as good as your last role.  My last role had been eight years before.  I thoroughly enjoyed this group of young actors.  They put on a great show.

 Now for another confession.  I like to go to concerts at night.  One of the things I did, when working with the Comet bus system, was getting them to run buses until midnight.  The defense was to get workers to third-shift jobs.  My ulterior motive was to go to night events.  They put the late-night run in for some routes, including mine, so I was able to take the 45-minute walk from the theatre back to Walmart and get my bus to take me home.  After all, a cab ride would have been close to $30.  

 The next show I went to there was pretty close to Heaven.  Two acts from New Orleans and one from Alabama.  Irma Thomas, the New Orleans Preservation Hall Jazz Band, and the Five Blind Boys of Alabama.  What a magical night.  By now, the Comet had discontinued the late-night run due to lack of ridership.  I had to catch a ride with a friend back home.  However, I proposed a new route for the Comet.  Service to the Harbison Midlands Tech.  So, if I ever wanted to go to that theatre again, I could.  Unfortunately, the pandemic hit, and performances were cut.  Of course, my motive for that route also included Parkridge Hospital, Riverland Hills Baptist Church, and Frankie's Fun Park.  It would be great if more people would ride that route, but it is there for those who want it.

Frampton

  I always liked Peter Frampton, ever since his album "Frampton Comes Alive" came out in the late 70's.  We sold that album at Sanger-Harris in Ft. Worth, where I worked.  Mostly to teenage girls.  We couldn't keep it in the store.  

 When I saw he was coming to Columbia in 2018 with Steve Miller, I just HAD to go.  I know this might anger some, but I really didn't care about Steve Miller.  I like some of his songs.  In fact, I used to sing them in the car a lot.  But, I was going to see Peter Frampton.

 It was a rather warm day.  I was walking from the library over to the arena, when I started to feel I was getting overheated.  As you know, that is a problem with me.  I stopped in Panera on Gervais St. to get cool.  I wasn't going to buy anything, so I went into their restroom.  After putting a little water on my face, I headed on down the sidewalk to the arena.

 The venue was almost filled.  Peter was the opening act.  He was great.  I sang along with him on most of the songs.  My seat was right behind the soundboard.  I like sitting there, because I get the full effect.  It is better than the floor, where everybody stands up during the show.  It is also better than a seat I had to see Paul McCartney which was at the side of the stage.  

 After he finished his set, I looked at my watch and thought I needed to catch the last bus back home.  I left before Steve Miller came onstage.  I found out later that Frampton jammed with Miller during his set.  Oh well.  I got back home with a wonderful feeling.  Peter Frampton is the best.

Faint

  As I have stated earlier, I take depression medication.  One of the side effects is feeling dehydrated.  I try and control it with water or Gatorade, and most times it works well.  Another thing that I have stated earlier is that I am a political junkie.  So, what do these two things have in common?  That is this story.

 The Presidential inauguration was on January 20, 2020.  That was a Wednesday.  Wednesday is my grocery day.  My apartment complex has a van or bus that takes us to buy groceries, since so many of us don't have cars and some have disabilities.  I wanted to see the inauguration.  It is historical, and I try not to miss any, if I can.  So, I decided to go to the grocery store on Tuesday the 19th.  I also had to go to the post office, so I walked there and then was going to take the city bus to Food Lion.  I had my backpack to carry the groceries.  

 I went to the post office, and then it was on to the bus stop, which was next to a Waffle House.  It was a warm day for January.  As I was waiting on the bus to come, I started feeling hot and was sweating.  I leaned against a concrete pylon and started to feel faint.  I blacked out and fell face first into the ground.  My chest hit a metal pole in the ground, and my ribs hit the concrete going down.  I was stunned.  There was a guy also waiting for the bus, and another guy behind me.  There were also people in the Waffle House.  Did anyone help me get up?  No.  As I struggled to stand, I fell again.  I hit the same spot as before.  Did anyone help me get up this time?  No.  

 I gave up on the idea of going to the grocery store.  I pulled out my phone and called a cab to take me home.  I had bruised my sternum, ribs and shoulders.  I ended up going to get groceries the next day with some folks from my complex and recording the inauguration to watch later.  It took my sternum about six months to feel better.  My shoulders were previously injured on the Ark trip, so that took longer to heal.  My ribs never really healed, as I have a recurring injury from years ago that flares up from time to time.  I learned a valuable lesson that day.  I don't have to watch everything live.  There are enough news channels that will repeat things over and over again.