Rex

Blog 8
We all know Rex. We see him pushing his shopping carts up and down Forest Grove, pushing one at a time and then returning to get the next one. We see him wear three jackets even when it’s warm. I saw Rex yesterday and the local Plaid Pantry while I was getting cold medicine. He was inspecting the trash cans for soda cans and bottles. As I got into my car I realized how closely he inspected those cans. He brought them up to his ear. I remember being homeless but I never remember shaking a can. I wondered if he was checking to see if there were still fluids in the cans. Maybe he couldn’t turn them in that way. I had a few cans in my car and I got out handing them to Rex.
“Here,” I said.
Rex took each can one at a time. He pulled each up to his ear and shook it. He took the first two but threw the last one in the trash can.
“You don’t want that one?”
“It’s bad.”
Maybe it couldn’t be exchanged in Oregon, I thought.
“It's warm out, isn’t it?”
Rex didn’t respond.
“Why do you have so many jackets on when it’s such a beautiful day out?”
“They keep me safe?”
Rex walked over to his cart mumbling. I followed. I had been where he was and I wanted to help, if I could.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Thirsty?”
“No.”
I know from experience that it is odd for any homeless person to turn down food and water. But Rex didn’t want it. He even seemed frightened of me. And his eyes were so sincere and not at all glassy that I knew he was not high or just the stereotypical junkie.
“What’s your name?”
“…Rex…”
“Where is your family Rex?”
“No...No….Family, No….no family.”
Rex returned to his shopping carts. I could tell he didn’t want to talk anymore. I returned to my car. Something about his responses in the course of two minutes struck me as odd. The can being bad, the jackets to keep him safe, and the repeating and stuttering of “no family.” I think Rex is Schizophrenic. I don’t want to make assumptions, but I used to volunteer at Hope House, an assisted living facility for those with mental problems. And Rex reminded me of this guy named Frank there. The stuttering answers, the not wanting to look at someone, the assumption of needing safety or that an object is bad. What if Rex has this problem? Does he realize it? Frank did. He always used to tell me how he remembered being “normal.” But Frank has a home. Rex doesn’t. What if Rex doesn’t want help? What if Rex thinks he doesn’t need help? Where was Rex during the cold winter? How many Rex’s are out there?