BrianJBecker.com

Allow me to introduce you to Papa François. Along with Papa Leopold, he guards the subterranean garage in my building. The garage is something straight out of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. It’s dark, damp, gloomy, and creepy. There are strands of spider web and moss hanging from the ceiling- they may as well have put them there for effect. But then there’s a bright spot: Papa François. I’m alone in my apartment most every weeknight but when I get out of the car I’ll often have a brief but interesting conversation with Papa François. Tonight he remarked that I’d really worked late and then we talked about the crazy dry-season gully-washer rainstorm yesterday that had water pouring into the garage. Then he told me to get on upstairs and get some good rest. I noticed he was cooking up some dinner for himself. Sometimes we talk about the corrupt building manager and just shake our heads at the injustice that man does to both of us. Sometimes we chat about the way things are and he tells me the way they once were. Occasionally our chatter buds into a longer talk. But most nights it’s a regular ten minute camaraderie of an unlikely and quite precious kind.