Bruce, Bruce, Bruce...What Have You Done?

For one year of my life, I lived in the delightfully infamous Allston, Massachusetts. For those of you unfamiliar with this area of Boston, take my word, it can be a bit overwhelming. It's crowded, noisy, dirty, filled with drunken frat boys, and during the summer, hot damn, does it stink! But given the right state of mind, Allston can be a friggin' blast. I had a lot of happy, scandalous times there. What follows is one of the most bizarre stories that I took with me when I left.

I worked at a bagel place about 5 minutes from my apartment and sometimes, just to mix things up, I would cut through the back lot of the apartment complex across the street from my place to shorten the trip. The path was well-worn and lined with trees, bushes, and weeds. Walking it infused my days with a little bit of trash-infested nature and I loved it.

One day after work, I'm cutting through, minding my own business and I turn the corner and suddenly, it's as though I walked into a fully furnished room in the middle of the woods. There was a homeless man sitting in a recliner, smoking a joint. He smiled at me with his big toothy grin and said, "Welcome to my living room!" The dude had literally set up a living room in the back alley of this complex in a matter of eight hours (I walked through that morning as well). He had a table, several chairs, decorations...the works. I was like, "Oh, okay. Right. Hi. How's it going?" I was in the middle of my "it's all good/the plan is to have no plan" phase, so I just rolled with the punches.

His name was Bruce, he fought in Vietnam, and had been homeless for many years. He had a heart of gold and a lot of garbage-picked furniture that he shifted from alley to alley to avoid getting arrested. He liked to feel at home, so he would set up this make-shift living room all over Allston, never staying long enough to draw too much attention to himself.

I really enjoyed my time with him and began to see him everywhere. He invited me to lunch one day and we sat and chatted. He pulled out a thick wad of cash and bought my meal for me. I was broke and living off stale bagels so I thanked him mightily. It feels weird to have a homeless man buy you lunch when you are employed full-time but, nevertheless, consistently flat-broke. I was very grateful.

He knew where I lived and worked and started showing up at the bagel shop with presents for me. He brought me flowers and little trinkets, and soon my boss was taking me aside to discuss Bruce's seeming obsession. I told him he was harmless, and he was.

One day Bruce came to me and said he had something for me. He handed me a gift certificate from this Brazilian salon down the street and told me, "Get yourself something nice. Get one of those manicures or pedicures or something."

All I could think was, "A homeless man bought me a gift certificate. A homeless man bought me a gift certificate!?" What the hell? Right? I insisted he take it back and get a refund but he whole-heartedly refused. I eventually (reluctantly) accepted his gift and used it to get what ultimately became the worst, most disappointing haircut I have ever received.

I left Allston not long thereafter and never saw Bruce again. Last time I was there I asked another man on the streets what happened to him and he said he was in prison. Not sure what happened, but I wish him all the best. He was a good egg.