Pikey

Growing up in a small east Tennessee town I learned a lot about people and about life.  We knew our neighbors by name; we played in the streets, on sidewalks, and in each others yards.  We knew next door neighbors and church friends very well, but there were others who lived among us who were less well known.  Etched indelibly into my mind are the images and memories of one such individual. He was a man everyone in town easily recognized, but often avoided, everyone called him “Pikey.”  Sooner or later most of us kids encountered Pikey and this story is about my memories of this man.

Like many small towns in America back in the 1940’s and early 50’s, we had no strip malls or shopping centers,  just one central main street. As you traveled it from one end to the other you’d find retail stores for every type, a couple of hotels, a few gas stations and several cafes.  All other streets in my town ran parallel to main street or crossed it at right angles.  Between the main streets and boulevards were other unpaved passages running through the centers of most blocks.  These narrow unpaved connectors were called alleys.

Alleys were used to provide access to the rear of homes and businesses and served as passage ways for garbage trucks, the milk man, the electric, water and gas meter readers and other service folks. Alleys were also important routes for kids.  When walking or riding a bike, an alley was sometimes a shortcut to your friend’s house, the city park, school, or a ball field.  It was also a good place for kids to explore other folk’s trash and discarded junk.  These were the days before folks knew about “garage sales” or “yard sales” or even “flea markets”.  Folks piled up their unwanted junk in the alley behind the house for the trash men to pick up.  I’ve recovered and carried home many “treasures” from junk piles in an alley behind someone’s house.

But alleys were also traveled by other people.  Back then, folks called them tramps or bums; some parents called these travelers “Booger Men” in an effort to frighten their kids and keep them from using the alley-ways.  

It was on those “shortcuts” through the alleys where most kids eventually crossed paths with Pikey.  All the kids knew Pikey and tried to keep from encountering him face to face.  Our parents had warned us to avoid him because Pikey was a mysterious and scary person who lived in the shadows of our town.  He was scary because he had a hideous and sinister looking face, a face that was characterized by three or four large bulbous growths, about the size of walnuts that grew around the base of his nose; ugly pendulous bulbs that jiggled and bounced as he walked.

Pikey always walked with a shuffling gate, head down, stooped over, his ever present flat cap with the little bill pulled down over his eyes; seldom looking up as he plodded through the alleys looking through garbage cans and people’s junk piles.  If you ever got near him he’d give you a sideways stare from the corner of his eyes that sent shivers down your back.

We kids always wondered if Pikey had a family or friends.  We wondered where Pikey lived, but the big questions were:  Was he dangerous?  Would he hurt you if he ever got hold of you?  Was he just odd or plumb crazy? 

Some of the boys said they had seen him go into the basement of an old church just a block from my house.  If you walked by there after dark there was a faint light shining through a small basement window, but none of us knew for sure or dared go close enough to look in the window.  All of us kids observed Pikey from a distance, just as did most of the adults.  Some said Pikey was an alcoholic, but I never saw him drinking or drunk.  He maintained his distance and we maintained ours.

Pikey was always a part of the landscape during my growing up years until I left home for college.  With the new college routines and new friends I pretty much forgot about Pikey and the other people who navigated the alley-ways back home.  That was until one visit home during my sophomore year.  I was home for the weekend and just driving around town looking to connect with old buddies when I spotted a man who looked a lot like Pikey.  But, this man was on Main Street, which Pikey had never used.  There were no bulbous tumors hanging from this man’s nose.  This man looked cleaner and walked with his head held a little higher than Pikey had held his, but this man still wore the signature cloth flat cap with the bill still pulled down over his eyes.   When I got home I asked my grandmother about the man I’d seen that looked like Pikey and to my surprise she said it probably was him.

She said that some months back while I was away at school, several local doctors in town had gotten involved with Pikey and decided to provide surgery at no cost to remove the tumors from his nose.  It turned out to be relatively simple surgery, but one that had life changing results for Pikey.  In the years following his surgery, Pikey still walked down the alleys a lot, but he also walked on the main sidewalks around town.  He would talk to people and even did odd jobs to earn money.   In fact, folks said he was a pretty good electrician, a fact most people didn’t even know.  Because of the surgery, Pikey no longer lived in the shadows of our town.

I didn’t know it then, but the alleys of my youth were a highway for the truly helpless in our community – the poor, the deformed, the vagrant, the homeless, and the kids.  These are the folks who didn’t then and still now have little power, social or political influence. 

Many times since those early years I’ve often asked myself…  “Why did it take those doctors so long to decide to help Pikey?  What am I doing to help those around me who are in some type of distress or need?  Why do we wait so long to take a stand for those who are helpless?”   Unfortunately, I don’t always have a good answer for my lack of action.

Do you know the lines from the old gospel hymn that say…..

“Do not wait until some deed of greatness you may do

Do not wait to spread your light afar

To the many duties ever near you now be true,

Brighten the corner where you are.”

Not everyone can be a doctor and use healing arts to restore a person’s health; not everyone can be wealthy and provide resources to help the needy, and few of us have professional skills to counsel others toward good mental health. But sometimes it doesn’t take much; just a kind word, a helping hand, or sharing a fresh batch of cookies to brighten someone’s day, someone like Pikey. 

My memories of Pikey help to remind me that I should always make the best of where I find myself and that anyone can “Brighten the corner where you are.”