I have tucked in the back of my brain is a list of all the characters I would like to include if my life were to ever turn into a movie. That’s awfully hot headed of me, I know. In the realm of people I have known or come across in my life there are absolutely a few people who I would want to share with the world. Beau Wolf is one who I will have to squeeze in there somehow, anyhow. He cannot be omitted.

Beau stands well over six feet tall. He is lanky but not bony. He always wears a lot of clothing as though he is homeless and has no place else to put his extra layers. But he’s not homeless. He also has no job, but always has money. Not tons of cash, but enough to buy the twenty-two ounce cans of Schmitt’s Ice he can be seen drinking at most times.

Beau is about forty or sixty or eighty years old. It’s tough to tell because of the beard that he wears which he has never shaved in the time that I have known him. The beard became the cause of his nickname in the mid 90s. “Run Forrest Run” is what we called him. He lives outside of Oroville, Washington. Where exactly I don’t know, though my dad drove him home one time when he was too drunk to wander the streets of town any longer. Beau told my dad a story during the ride:

Once, he decided to stay in the town’s motel, because he did not want to try and find a ride home. He also decided to use the shower in the motel. I don’t think he had running water in his home. (Not having plumbing or electricity is not unusual in that area) He had apparently not taken off his boots and socks in a great while and as he went to do so, all of his toenails came off with the socks. WOW. I promise that is the grossest thing in this post, keep reading.

I met Beau when he would come and rent movies from the video store that was inside of my parents grocery store in Oroville. At this time there were maybe three computers in the entire town and Bell’s Supermarket was not one of those places. So, I would ask for the name and phone number of those who wished to rent movies. He responded to my inquire of his name with, “Beau Wolf,” I almost laughed out loud. What a terrific name to have. Of course he had no phone. He also had no car, he either walked or rode an old fashioned bicycle everywhere.

Beau had a saying he would give to everyone, but only when he was drinking. “Are you mad at me?” he’d say as an entrance to conversation.

“No, Beau. I’m not mad at you”

“Good, Wanna go eat Chinese?”

And I always said no to that as well. I mean, how would we get there? On his bike?

One time he did not ask me about Chinese, but rather if I would drive him “up the hill”. That is always in reference to Mount Hull when said in Oroville. It’s the hill where you can find yourself real live hillbillies, some hippies, and also certain members of various militia groups. I was eighteen and stupid, so I took him up. He promised me a joint in return for the ride, though I refused.

Another time myself and a cousin of mine were on our way to the town about an hour south of us. This was not a big town, but they did boast a McDonald’s and a Wal-Mart. We were headed to the Wal-Mart to buy various peices of plastic junk. Beau asked to go along. So, we brought him

The thing I miss most about Oroville is that situations as that are the norm in every day life. I cannot imagine here in St. Paul, a young girl bringing an eccentric man like that on an hour long car trip as a favor to him because he has no car, seen as anything other than asking for trouble.

Cheers Beau Wolf, hopefully I will see you again this summer. And maybe I’ll take you out for Chinese.