Pipe Guy

Friday, Nov. 8, 2019

I love observing people. Pipe Guy gives me a chance to do that, and I enjoy some fine tasting tobaccos at the same time.

My favorite place to go is the train station. The other is outside the Jewel entrance – a grocery store for you non-Chicagoans. That spot is partly sheltered, then again, so is the Metra Station. I stand across from the tracks, across the parking lot of the steel pipe factory, under a huge, old, maple. There are other trees there as well.

The squirrels have befriended me. I feed them – I should have said that first. They’re so persistant, they’ll fidget by the cuff of my jeans, daring to crawl up. Or, they’ll walk along wooden fence top where I stand, edging nearer, ready to climb into my jacket pocket or my side pack to see if I really have no more peanuts, like I told them.

Peanuts?! Almonds, walnuts, sunflower seeds. Between the nuts and pipe tobacco, this is an expensive hobby. Lately, my investment is buried in the grass along sidewalks or stored in trees. Occasionally, they’ll sit about a foot away from me and chow down.

I hope to keep going out everyday, even through the winter. Stayed inside way too much last year and the fresh air and walk feels good.

The train people – commuters – notice me feeding the squirrels. It took weeks, if not a month or more, to become non-verbally accepted. You know how invisible commuters tend to be. I used to be one when I worked downtown. Say nothing to nobody, mind your business and go home.

And there’s the stigma of the pipe. Not socially acceptable, you would think, especially with all the laws against it (I smoke where it’s legal). But being somewhat of a benign presence, not too close to the traffic, and also feeding the wildlife, slowly, I noticed a change.

As people got off the train, they started noticing me. I’m there for almost an hour in the warmer weather and see many trains stopping in rush hour. Eventually, I seemed to have become a touchstone – I noticed it when I was absent for a few days. They glanced, quickly, like, ‘Oh, there’s Pipe Guy, it’s OK.’

One young gal even smiled when I threw the squirrel a peanut. Good thing. I was saying, “Hi baby! C’mon, c’mon!” To the squirrel.

And I notice the people, too. It’s like a little drama, a soap. All summer, a guy who got off the 4:00, went to his car, which had a load of pallets tightly tied to the roof. He got in and drove away. He did this day after day with the same pallets.

And the gal, slightly heavyset, nice blond hair, well dressed, and wearing red sneakers, who walks with a fast stride, usually leading the rest of the pack to their cars.

I always hear one guy who doesn’t ride the train, but comes around the corner, heading south. I heard him today. Instead of athletic shoes, he wears a pair of light brown dress shoes. They’re the old-fashioned kind with leather soles and hard heels. You know the sound. And he wears work clothes.

Then there’s the couple who must work in the same place, and ride the train home together. They stand on the corner and talk for 10 minutes or so, before going their separate ways. I don’t hear their words, but their tone is very friendly, like maybe they’re at the start of something.

I’m good buddies with the crew who work at the pipe factory. ‘Pipe factory’ – ironic, isn’t it? When it’s warm, they gather after work and drink beer at the spot where I smoke. It’s their spot and I try to stay out of the way when they’re there. But they always invite me to hang with them. I think I’m an honorary employee. I clean up around there and push the carts customers leave along the sidewalk back to the factory for them.

My adventures are shortened now by the cold and early sunset. As I start home, I always stop to enjoy the wind chimes a guy has in his yard. He keeps them up year ’round and they sound like little church bells.

Mid-block – a hello to the Chihuahua, who barks meanly at me if I don’t wave at her, and then if the neighbors aren’t out to chat, I head to the Jewel and home.