now what does Daniel j O'keefe do for fun-- now that he dosen't have the employee's to mess with
Every day I saw him push his grocery cart down University Avenue, the busiest street in San Diego, in Hillcrest.
He bore an iconic homeless look, with holes in the toes of his shoes, dress pants saturated in urine and other fluids. Under his beige sports jacket he wore a navy polo sweater, and a broad chest to match his superior height.His jacket and sweater were too small, and his belly hung below them. One could see his dirt-ridden socks, because his high waters, his pants, were also too small for his hefty body, and the seams settled above his ankles.
Considering it was San Diego, with perfect moderate climate, there were always a lot of, “street urchin” flanking Balboa Parks benches, and on some days one could see a hobo pushing his Safeway cart across the World Famous San Diego Zoo parking lot to set up their cardboard homes under the numerous Eucalyptus.
But my bum called the underpass in Hillcrest home, where he carried numerous plastic bags filled with his belongings and slept under the hum of cars, buses and trucks traveling to Mexico, Coronado, or wherever else they were headed.
My homeless fixture could often be seen sitting asleep on a bench, with his hands clasping his bags, and judging by his consistently burnt nose, he’d spent many days baking in the sun. And what made him so unique to me was how he looked like Ernest Hemingway.
