El ebanista

I climbed a mountain the other day. The path I followed was long and arduous, but the sights at the top made the journey entirely worth it.

I decided to go along this trek with a man who I am almost certain has a mental disorder which I cannot determine. I first met him at the workers shelter that I had been staying at and initiated a conversation with him in Spanish which was very promptly overpowered by his disposition to incessant chatter. He seemed knowledgeable about a plethora of subjects, but primarily talked about fish. Since I was interested in learning about the fishing industry, I heard him out as long as I could but finally had to excuse myself. At this time I was convinced he had severe ADHD.

My second encounter with this guy was again at the shelter. This time, the conversation did begin normally but again became a scatterbrained barrage about fishing, canneries, and whatever else was on this guy's mind throughout the day. At one point in the conversation he started going through various different trigonometric formulas and applications of the formulas. He was completely unable to read the very obvious non-verbal messages that I was sending regarding my complete lack of interest in what he was talking about. I reevaluated my previous assessment and began thinking that he might actually have Asberger syndrome.

Last Sunday I ran into the man at church. I smelled a faint hint of alcohol around me and assumed that it was the old Filipino man in front of me. I´m not sure why I made that assumption but it was unfounded since it turned out to be the dude I know. I could not for the life of me, figure out why someone would drink a couple of beers before coming to church. He told me this was the only time he could drink beer because it was his only day off and he only drank in the mornings. He never takes communion as a result.

I walked back with him that day, and was invited to a lunch consisting of real Mexican mole and tortillas. His apartment was a bit untidy but uncluttered. I noticed a few papers, magazines, and a textbook on contemporary American literature. I also noticed that there were at least 6 pairs of Xtra Tuffs scattered all over the apartment.

I mentioned my intent to climb Pillar mountain (the mountain adjacent to Kodiak) that day and he proceeded to invite himself along. I didn´t mind. It was nice to have someone to talk to on the long walk, even if it was a two way conversation with no real back and forth.

The man lives frugally. I learned that he came to Alaska some 20 odd years ago. He has not been back to Mexico and very rarely goes to the lower 48. He drinks beer every once in a while, but lives a relatively austere lifestyle otherwise. I know that he has money in the bank, but I don't think he spends very much of it. Somehow he has a significant body of knowledge, but none of it connects into a coherent line of inquiry. Except for the fish. All I know is that he is single, has a niece that he would leave his life insurance policy to, and has been working in the canneries for a very long time. He appreciates education but has no ability to ever apply any of the academic knowledge that he has acquired over the years.

This man lives to work. He has somehow come all the way across the globe from the bustling metropolis of Guadalajara to the remote and mundane world of the Alaskan canneries. This man, who can recall Pi to the hundred thousandth, and talk for hours about trigonometric formulas, compounding interest rates, the price of fish, the tides, and Mexican soccer, at the end of this day is a very lonely man. I am glad I went on a walk with him that day.