Excerpt from the book:

Our neighborhood also had its share of hardcore alcoholics, bums, and nuts. I always
wished I could learn all of their backstories. One of my favorites was Sweet Pea. She was a thin,
cheerful, little grey-haired, hunchbacked lady who talked at high speed. She would walk up to
you and start chatting away while intermittently rubbing her hand between her legs and sniffing
it, never missing one beat of her rant about whatever. In a disgusting way, she was adorable!

There was a tall, scary dude with wild eyes that would walk up to you and scream
obscenities, then open his trench coat and flash you and walk away still hollering. The first time
he got me, I damn near had a heart attack! After a while, though, you just got used to him.

The very best of them was Elmer. He reminded me of a little troll that lived under the
bridge in some old fairytale. He chewed tobacco, which would run down his white beard, leaving
little brown trails. Elmer wore ladies’ wigs like they were hats. He would walk up and down the
street day and night singing at the top of his lungs. Occasionally he would yell at some random
person, often scaring the shit out of folks who didn’t know about him. He mumbled when he
talked, and he talked to himself all the time. Then, out of the blue, he would just lie down in the
middle of the street and stop traffic. He’d lie there, singing out loud for 10 minutes or more till
the cops came and moved him out of the way.
I was working at a little diner on the main drag back them, and there was a window
behind me. Elmer used to come by and knock on it, making me jump. He got a kick out of it. We
would wave to each other and he’d smile, stick his tongue out at me through his toothless,
chewing tobacco beard and I would stick mine out back at him, smile and blow him a kiss. He
did this pretty regularly, and it got to be our thing.
One day, for no apparent reason, he came into the diner and brought me a little statue of
the Virgin Mary. Elmer handed it to me, smiled, winked, and left. I saw him on the street a few
days after that and went up and gave him a hug. I could tell he was surprised, but he hugged me
back. I looked him in the eyes, and said, “Ok, tell me the truth. You aren’t crazy at all, are you?”
He looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes that would have made Santa Claus jealous,
smiled and winked again. I had a feeling… I honestly felt just then that he was actually more of a
genius than a nut. I asked around on the street and found out Elmer wasn’t his real name. He
was, in fact, a very, very wealthy man who owned a large construction company that his sister
managed for him. Some years back, his wife and son had been killed in a car accident, and he
lost it. I never told anyone about the connection I had with him that day or after. You could say
we became friends. I’d see him often, and he always brought me little gifts from the thrift store.
He never said a word, but I could see the knowing and appreciation in his eyes. That was
enough.