“You ain’t FBI, are ya?”
Meet Garry
I found Garry staying warm on a cool fall morning in a patch of sun that spilled through the trees and across the bench in front of Tom Roth Place in Mount Washington. The can of Steel Reserve was intentionally placed behind his outstretched legs, obscured but not hidden, and easily accessible of course. I wasn’t sure if he only wore one glove because he lost the other one, or to keep a hand free to smoke.
Garry was born and raised in a small house in Camp Dennison near Milford along the Little Miami River. His father was a tree trimmer and his mother was a cashier at Kroger.
“It was funny because of where we lived, we went to Indian Hill schools with all the rich kids, but we weren’t rich,” Garry told me with a smile. “My dad told me that if I got my diploma, he’d buy me a car, and he lived up to his promise. When I graduated in 1970, he got me a purple ’65 Pontiac Catalina convertible with a black top.”
Garry got married to Mary right out of high school. They didn’t have a choice. They were both Catholic and Mary was pregnant. To support his family, Garry carried bricks at construction sites as a hod carrier for years. “It was hard work,” Garry added.
Other jobs included Waterworks and security for the library. Garry pointed over to the Mount Washington water tower. “I’ve been up on that thing, you know. It’s scary as hell up there. I had to do some water sampling up there once and I’m not a fan of heights.”
Eventually Garry and Mary would have a second son, but it wouldn’t be too long after that Mary would leave Garry.
“I went to Virginia Beach for a few days and she called me and said there’s some paperwork waiting for me. And when I got home she was gone.”
Garry says he hasn’t seen his sons in about 20 years. “One of them went to UC and became a financial advisor and the other went into the Navy.” Each live out of town; one in Indiana and the other in Georgia. Garry has four grandchildren between his two boys. “They don’t have a way to get a hold of me. I don’t have a phone and I move around a lot.” Garry says he’s homeless but has a few places to stay.
I asked Garry, “If there was one thing you could say to your sons what would you say?”
Garry looked away and his voice changed. “That I love them.” It was clear that he regretted their estrangement. “I’m a principled man, you know, but that can backfire on you.”
“What is your biggest struggle right now?”
“The cold weather.”
“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”
Garry chuckled. “Dead. If I can get five more years I’ll be lucky. I have some issues with my liver.”
“What do you like to do?”
“I like to hang out at the London Bridge. A lot of good people there, but I wish they had a pool table.”
Did you miss Beechmont Stories (Part Four)? Check it out here.
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