Joey's Hurricane Man

Joey ran, jumped and stumbled along. He stopped and tightened the belt buckle of his pants, which were falling down. He fought the rain pelting his scrawny body as he made his way to school. Joey was ten years old, but he still thought it was fun to splash through puddles to catch the cap that blew off his head. Rain dripped from Joey’s unevenly cut, kinky hair and washed his biscuit-brown face. He shivered as he shoved the frayed cap back on. Late autumn winds whistled across Oakdale, Georgia, and through Joey’s buttonless thin coat. Joey’s mismatched socks drooped as water seeped into his well-worn tennis shoes.
“I should be saying WOW!! WHEE-E-E!!” laughed Joey, “that my dad will be called back to work again next month. I can have school lunch money again.”
Food reminded Joey’s growling stomach about the approaching holidays. “Maybe I can eat turkey ’stead of oldie-moldy bread and leftover pork ’n beans for Thanksgiving Dinner. But I’m not feeling WHEE-E-E!! at all ’bout things gettin’ better.”
It was because he had to pass by Hurricane Man lying on the sidewalk. “Hurricane Man,” as the Oakdale folks called him, had had to flee a storm in
Louisiana and lost all he had owned. On that day in the Georgia rain, the man nestled next to a building’s heat grate. On the sidewalk around him were empty, greasy sandwich bags, flattened paper cups and chicken bones. The cocoa-hued, unshaven man never spoke. He lay there with deep, worried eyes. Hurricane Man had no shoes on his scarred feet. The wind didn’t flutter his matted-down old newspaper blankets.
Joey had seen him there before. He had to leap over the man’s long body sprawled in the middle of the sidewalk. His presence caused everybody in town to walk very fast as they passed by him. Except Joey.
Some of the folks turned their heads. Other folks stepped out into the street. But they all stared hard at his blankets made of newspapers covered with the headlines:
Katrina’s COMING !
Katrina SLAMS Gulf Coast !
Katrina’s AFTERMATH !
A long-eared dog lay beside Hurricane Man. The dog, as scrawny as Joey, was at home with Hurricane Man. It napped when the Hurricane Man napped and sat up when the Hurricane Man sat up. And sometimes the dog barked if he felt danger for Hurricane Man. The dog was Hurricane Man’s only friend.
Joey—who learned from his parents that “…In as much as you have done it unto one of the least of these, My Brother, you have done it unto me”— wanted to be the
Hurricane Man’s friend, too.
“Gotta get Hurricane Man off that sidewalk!” Joey said the next day to his
classmate, Kuma. He described the deep, worried eyes and the homeless man’s problem.
“Ready, man!” said slim-faced, long-haired Kuma. “Let’s sell some good ol’ frosty lemonade! Sell some good ol’ chocolate candy bars and some―”
“WOW! Great ideas, Kuma,” Joey interrupted. “Man, it’s too cold for lemonade and not enough money in candy bars. ’Cause my dad isn’t working now, tried ’em both once,” Joey admitted, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out six pennies. “Ended up gurgling lemonade, an’ downin’ the candy myself. Instead, let’s do a rap for money.” He grinned, “More fun!”
Joey and Kuma wrote a rap song as Kuma’s deft hands patted an African drum. Two other students joined in. Always smiling, Chang, with nimble fingers, played his Asian flute. Petite Maria, with a flower in her hair, tapped and waved her Spanish tambourines.
“C’mon, rappers,” said Joey, wearing a borrowed red vest and his cap on backwards. “Stand up on the sidewalk in front of Hurricane Man.” Chang, Kuma and Maria lined up in their colorful Asian, African and Mexican costumes. Joey did a moon walk break dance, grabbing the passing townsfolk’s attention. He stopped and tightened up his belt buckle. Hurricane Man smiled, sat up and leaned back on his elbows. The dog sat up, wagged its tail and turned its head towards the rappers.
Give whatcha can
To Hurricane Man
You may someday
Need money yo’ way
A burly Oakdale policeman rushed over and yelled, “Hey, you kids, panhandling
ain’t allowed ’round here!” And he told Joey, Kuma, Chang and Maria that it was against the law to beg for money on the streets. Hurricane Man’s dog barked fiercely
at the policeman as the man pointed at the students. “Git yourselves on home right now!”
Not to be defeated, the students ran to Ms. Fellini, the friendly music teacher at Oakdale School. They wanted to start an organized school rap group and were determined to raise money to help Hurricane Man. With the help of Ms. Fellini, they recruited other students, started rehearsing and taped their best songs. A few days later, Joey’s group stopped after school to play one of the tapes for Hurricane Man. He listened and then surprised everyone when he joined in with his own lyrics:
Katrina! Katrina!
You sho’s a meaner
Yo’ flood waters
Drowned my home
Yo’ wild winds
Cause me to roam
Yo’ sho’ is means
Ghostin’ our Orleans
“Hurricane Man has an amazing voice!” said Ms. Fellini, looking over the rim of her eyeglasses. “His voice combines blues and jazz so well!” Over the next few weekends, Ms. Fellini rewrote the songs with Hurricane Man and a wonderful thing happened. Ms. Fellini and The Oakdale Welcome Homeless Shelter formed a new
a cappella group that performed songs with no music, just the sound of their voices. They called themselves JAZZwinds.
Soon, even more good things began to happen. Hurricane Man was placed on staff at the shelter and the group landed a recording contract and raised money for the homeless.
And then the school principal assigned Ms. Fellini to other projects and she dropped her support for Joey’s rap group.
“Ouch!” yelled Joey, complaining about being cut out. “It was OUR idea.”
“Yeah!” said Kuma, “After we picked Hurricane up off that dirty sidewalk!”
“Right!” said Chang. “And we trash-bagged his chicken bones layin’ all over that sidewalk!” And he added, losing his smile, “We introduced him to Ms. Fellini.”
“Ms. Fellini is who ran out on us!” said Maria, banging hard on her tambourine.
Later, at home, Joey told his dad what had happened. “That was an excellent plan
that you and your friends had, Joey,” his dad said. “You helped a Brother in need—” and he gave Joey a pat on the shoulder. With a smile, he added, “It’s not taking away from what you started out to do, Joey, it only ADDS to it!”
After the talk with his dad, Joey and his friends shook Hurricane Man’s hand.
Then they all gave Ms. Fellini a great big hug.
This is not the end of the story Joey’s “Hurricane Man” has not been seen ever again lying on the sidewalk. He finally found a job singing in the local downtown jazz supper club and bought a home in the suburbs. And he gave Long Ears a plush doghouse in his backyard.
With a little more weight on his bones, Joey hopped, skipped and jumped without having to tighten up his belt buckle. And he always remembered Hurricane Man’s song—
Katrina! Katrina!
You sho’s a meaner ─


( End )