I first met Tom many years ago. When I rode my bike in the nearby canyon.
I often saw this man walking along, usually hauling a backpack and carrying
a plastic bag full of aluminum cans. I started seeing him at various places
around town, always walking. You could tell by his scruffy appearance that he
was homeless. He had a bit of sadness in his eyes, and some shame in his
posture, but looking deeper you could see a trickster, and a well of kindness.
I decided I was going to get to know this guy.
It took a while. First we exchanged names, then little pieces of information.
Soon we became good friends. He told me about his family and his life. We
talked about his passion for football and Jazz music. Despite being homeless,
he had a pretty good collection of Jazz CD's.
One day a roadside crew (consisting primarily of juvenile delinquents) was
picking up highway litter and stumbled into his camp. They stole everything
they thought had value and left the rest. They took a number of things that
were critical for his survival, but what he missed the most was the Jazz music.
Hanging around his campsites, I picked up on things he could use. It got to
the point that as I would shop at second-hand stores (which, being a Burner,
I do a lot), if I saw something I knew Tom would need, I picked it up too.
Some of the things I got him over the years were: a tent, a bicycle, lights,
hiking boots, and, a real treat for him - drumsticks. In all, everything
probably cost me less than twenty bucks. For him, the stuff was huge.
sometimes you can make a big difference with little things.
I was really happy to find a bike for him. I knew it had to be large, sturdy,
and relatively maintenance free. It took me a while to find and fix up the
ideal match. He was so happy to get it. It made a huge difference in his life.
Without the bike, he was walking easily 10 miles a day (collecting cans,
taking them to the recycle center, getting food, etc.) and that was on a bad
knee. with his bike, his transportation capability increased over ten times.
He could go further, in less time, with the bike taking the load of his gear,
and his knee geting a rest. The bike gave him more freedom. When I saw him
the day after he got it, he gave me the biggest, longest hug ever.
Transportation is so important in our society. Bikes are part of the solution.
We went riding together a few times. He loved that bike and took a lot of
pride in his machine. He saved some money to get a few tools and accessories.
He decorated it a bit. He even bragged about it to his buddies. Sadly, though
he had a lock, someone stole his bike.
As I looked for another bike, tom carried on with his life. He survived by
collecting things to recycle. He spent a lot of his free time just cleaning
up the canyon. Rude people and their litter angered Tom, but he was there,
cleaning up the crap they left behind.
Winter came. Instead of heading south, Tom decided to stay on. We had a really
rough winter this year and I was worried for him. But he made it through. With
the spring weather, I saw Tom walking around town, but was usually too busy to
stop and talk. I thought, we'll get caught up as soon as I have some time and
am on the trail again. What a HUGE mistake that was. I never got the chance to
talk to Tom again.
On May 4th, Tom's body was found in a canal. The autopsy discovered He was
intoxicated. Tom had previous troubles with alcohol, but had it mostly licked. His
birthday, 52nd I believe, was just a few days before. The last people to see him
knew he bought a bottle to celebrate. We speculate that he had too much drink,
tried to cross the canal near his camp at a difficult point, fell in, and that was that.
Alone, cold and wet, but probably numb and feeling no pain. You can read more
about it here:
www.ksl.com/
Riding the trail just isn't the same knowing he's gone. After years and years
I just expect him to always be there. Its tough to go past his camp spots,
and the place they found his body. Now and then the sites are adorned with
flowers, left by some of his numerous friends.
Tom Bowers was just a homeless guy I saw now and then in passing, but
damn I'm going to miss him. He made an impact in lots of people's lives.
Farewell buddy!
