Bubbles Always Pop, pg. 7.
I arrived at Ed's place about thirty minutes after speaking to him on the phone. Just before turning off the blacktop to the road leading to Ed's home, I noticed a small model school bus placed atop one of the mailboxes. I had gotten the impression Ed was quite fond of his living arrangement. Perhaps, though his abode was unusual, some peace was coming into his life from the feeling of having a place he could finally call "home".
I parked directly behind Ed's truck mostly because there really wasn't anywhere else to park and exited my well worn chevy. Ed had parked his vehicle just inside the front edge of his property where it intersected with the cul-de-sac. I noticed when walking past Ed's truck, he had several large plastic containers in the back of his vehicle. I remembered Ed not yet having a continuous feed water supply because of the cost he would have to incur to have a well drilled. He was having to haul all the water needed from an outside source. I had told him sometime ago he was welcome to come over to the house to fill his containers. He could use the outside spigot and not have to worry about SJ and I being home when he needed water. Naturally, he declined the offer. He told me later he would go directly across the street from the motel and get water from a spigot owned by a convenience store.
On each side of Ed's truck were two very large pine trees. I suspect it was because of the two pines that he had chosen to name his place Piney Point, even though there were several other pines on the property of various heights. In the time which had passed from my last visit to his place, I immediately noticed a cinder block retaining wall upon which the electric boxes were attached. He had also constructed a stone pathway leading to the stepside of the bus, rigged up a gravity fed shower, removed the wheels from the bus and placed it on blocks, and laid a large piece of old carpet across his drive in front of the truck where, opposite the bus, he had placed a fold-out lounge chair. Ed told me one time he frequently enjoyed laying out behind his home at Jesse Haven, wearing only a bath robe, weather permitting.
I hollered out to him when I had reached the front of the bus. Knowing Ed was not a cigarette smoker like myself and not keen on the idea of his home smelling of cigarette smoke, we stayed outside most of the time I was there except for an initial tour of the inside of his quarters. He had cardboard over most of the windows on the driveway side of the bus with some curtains fashioned across the windows on the opposite side. He had managed to fit a couch, chair, and coffee table in addition to his computer and tv in the front half of the bus and had a curtain partition separating his sleeping quarters in the back half. In the very back of the bus, his lavatory facilities consisted of a single portable toilet. While my own height would have found it annoying to live in such confined quarters, Ed's bus seemed homey and cozy.
We moved quickly from the inside to the outside area. I followed Ed as he showed me the shower area and various other improvements he had made since my last visit. He told me he was going to have Abe, the backhoe operator, come out and dig a pit for an outhouse. He said he was tired of having to haul the portable toilet to a dumping station to dispose of the waste. I asked if he had managed to arrange employment at the motel yet, but he said he was still talking with them. It seemed as though the process was like some kind of negotiation. In my opinion, there were plenty of job opportunities in twon, however, Ed was pretty well known through his frequent letters to the local newspaper. His outspoken public speaking had put him in the position of being seen as a possible liability to anyone who might hire him which I had come to learn through another source. We talked for about an hour or so until Ed told me he needed to go to town to pick up a few things. I bid him well, told him it was good to see him and thought his bus and property were really starting to look like a nice home, shared a hug, and left with the usual "catch ya later".
I don't recall the next time I spoke to Ed, but learned he had managed to get back on at the motel as the night auditor where he had worked for a number of years. I sensed Ed was really hoping his old job was going to be made available to him, so I was happy to hear the position was again offered to him. I'm not quite sure what the final arrangement came to, but I got the impression Ed had to eat a lot of crow. I don't think he got any additional monetary benefit by going back. Still, it was an income, and while things would continue to be difficult, he at least had an income greater than an unemployment check. I believe I did manage to make it over to the motel one evening after he had gone back to work to "catch up" with him. |
