Victor's a rather hip 60-something with his frayed salt-and-pepper hair cinched back in a pony tail and accentuated with a silver hoop earring. Hovering around 6feet tall, 6-feet-4 if he could stand erect, Victor displays his meticulously lettered placard proclaiming he's a homeless disabled vet seeking assistance. Having observed this intriguing fixture at the corner of Rainier and Dearborn for the past two years prompted me to get to know him and hear his life story.
Raised in rural Washington and British Columbia, at the age of 13 Victor's parents split up, which resulted in his mom and siblings moving to Tucson, Ariz. The combination of the divorce, relocation and general teenage malaise led Victor to quit school and move out on his own. This independent and resourceful teenager then landed a job selling magazines. His charming personality proved successful in the sales world.
Itching for a new challenge, at the age of 17, Victor enlisted in the Navy where he traveled, boxed, and learned to cook. With his honorable discharge in hand, this heavyweight amateur pugilist returned to the familiar Northwest. Here, he began his professional career in the food industry cooking for some of Seattle's finest establishments, including the renowned 13 Coins restaurant.
Confident with his cuisine expertise coupled with an innate entrepreneurial drive, Victor opened his own restaurant. Four years after its debut, "Victor's 610 Second Avenue" succumbed to the fate of many small establishments, and he closed its doors.
Seeking refuge from his failed business and fast-paced city life, Victor, in his late 30s, found tranquility in rural Vashon Island where raising chickens, tending to donkeys and gardening became his new passions. To complete this idyllic life, Victor met his soul mate - Loretta. The two married, and, along with Loretta's three children, they lived together harmoniously in Victor's Vashon Island farm house.
Years later when their children were grown and gone, Victor and Loretta's bond began to unravel. A bitter divorce left Victor estranged from his family, alone and destitute. Returning to Seattle's International District feeling depressed, and at times suicidal, he sought comfort in alcohol. Adding to his misery, Victor's no frills single-room occupancy hotel was demolished in favor of an upscale condo. The change both displaced him and rendered him homeless.
Reaching the depths of despair in his late 50s, Victor found solace and guidance in religion and a sense of purpose through work. Employed as a day laborer, when assignments were not available Victor staked out the nearest corner holding up a sign seeking help. Thus he discovered "signing," which he proudly distinguishes from "panhandling" (those who verbally solicit handouts).
Often he finds it more profitable than day labor work. Furthermore, with his advancing age, congenital heart problems, diabetes, and chronic back pain, signing became an appealing alternative to the sporadic and physically demanding menial labor of the day job market.
Standing as the grand marshal of his own parade, Victor's perpetually waving hand enthusiastically greets his audience of daily commuters and pedestrians while honoring police officers, firefighters and other public servants with a military salute. Victor's friendliness and warm smile also defuse the antagonism that some vent toward the homeless.
When not signing, Victor, who reconnected with his stepson, has assumed the responsibility of providing guidance to this troubled young man. Although he didn't envision being a father figure at this stage of his life, Victor's paternal instincts compel him to guide his stepson away from life's pitfalls.
Victor readily admits he's made mistakes, yet despite his precarious circumstances, he chooses to embrace life. This avowed Christian is homeless not hopeless as he dreams of having a permanent residence and a car to travel around the United States with.
Everybody has a life story that we can learn from. Victor's rollercoaster life underscores the frailties of human relations, employment, and health while demonstrating that our well being ultimately depends on our own resourcefulness, luck and maybe even a "Victoresque" smile.
Central Area writer Joe Kadushin may be contacted through editor@sdistrictjournal.com.
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