Find my sister for me

I recently ran into Dwayne again in Nashville. He is the 49-year old gentleman who I talked to who wanted me to find his sister to tell her he was okay.

I talked to his sister about two or three weeks ago after meeting Dwayne one night. It took me about two days to find her, but I did find her.

She told me a story of heartache filed with mental illness, drug and alcohol addiction within her family. We talked about how Dwayne has never received proper help and how growing up was a battle for her.

In my conversation with the Illinois native, she described how her father use to make her and Dwayne fight in the front yard to provide him (the father) with entertainment. She talked about how her mother sold drugs and how that affected her for life.

I could go further into the details of Dwayne's life involving his sister, but out of respect for her I won't. She is doing good today and has not had contact with her brother in over 15-years for personal reasons. Those reasons make sense. 

“I had noticed that both in the very poor and very rich extremes of society the mad were often allowed to mingle freely.” ― Charles Bukowski, author of Ham on Rye. Bukowski was influenced by the social, cultural, and economic ambiance of his home city of Los Angeles.

Would you like for me to tell your sister you are okay?

He was standing by himself in front of a closed business when I saw him, kind of walking in circles. “Do you need a sleeping bag?” I asked. “Well, I probably do,” he told me.

We talked for a while as we sat on the front of the business under a light that illuminated the front parking lot. “Do you have any family,” I asked with curiosity. He got a little glimmer in his eyes as he stated, “I have a sister named Sandra that I have not seen in 15-years, she’s in Chicago.” He told me he did not have a phone nor did he know how to contact her. I asked, “Would you like for me to try to find her and tell her you’re okay?” He smiled and responded, “Sure that would be great – if you can find her, she may have a different last name now.”

Dwayne told me that he is 49 years old and once called Chicago home. However, he told me that he has been all over the place and has lots of past areas in our nation that he called home at one point or another.

I wondered what made Dwayne tick, why was he homeless and what his past looked like. “Do you have any issues with schizophrenia or other mental illnesses,” I questioned. He chuckled, “Not that I have been diagnosed with,” he replied with a smile.

American journalist Lisa Ling once stated, “There's so much grey to every story - nothing is so black and white.”