The kids at the park--the little ones--seven and eight year olds--they would run up to him. The old guy riding the adult tricycle with the basket on it.
He looked wrong in our neighborhood. A dirty bearded guy. By dirty, I mean unshaven and rumpled. He had shaggy salt and pepper brows, in addition to the beard, it made him look as if he had just come from a hidden mountain cave. His wrinkled clothing appeared to hang from him, as if too large for his frame. He was thin too, skinny enough to make us all wonder if he was this side of starvation.
The kids didn't care though. Someone would see him riding by the park and the shout would go out.
"Hey, it's the Bubble Gum Man!" Then the call would be put out through the whole area. Kids would run over each other to get to the curb before he passed, so they could get a good look and a piece of Bazooka Gum with the Bazooka Joe comics inside.He had done this for years. When I was ten, I was one of the kids running as fast as my legs would carry me across the park, just to get a piece of gum before he ran out. It wasn't just the gum I wanted.
Like all kids at that age, we have the desire to be scared and safe at the same time. The Bubble Gum Man provided that kind of entertainment.We had all heard stories about him. Some said he really did live in some cave on Mount Baldy and came down once a week, just to lure some lone child back to that cave. There, like Odysseus's Polyphemus, he would eventually cook and eat the child. bones would be strewn across the cave floor.
Countless teenage expeditions hunted for the cave and never did find it, but that didn't stop the story. In fact, with each generation the tale grew longer and more complicated. At some point, the Bubble Gum Man's childhood was introduced and it was said he was so ugly when he was born that hisparents abandoned him on that mountain and he survived only because a mama bear happened to run across him and thought he was a baby bear.
But at fifteen, I no longer believed those old stories. I thought he was some old pervert that rode by the park on his bicycle hoping to find a lone child. That's why he never failed to have bubble gum on him. Though he had never done anything to any of us, that's what most of the kids my age thought. We believed that version of the story enough to keep an eye on the younger ones, from a distance.
"There's that old perv again," said Raley, my best friend Kyle's girlfriend. Though she wasn't my girlfriend, I went out of my way to impress her. Like other boys my age, I hung on nearly every word.
"Yeah," I said, watching the crowd that gathered across the park. "That's why I watch when my little brother runs over. Scared that old perv might do something."
If I was completely honest, I couldn't think of one child who went missing from our area. Though there were plenty of missing kids on milk cartons, they were always from somewhere else. If anyone had taken time to look at statistics, we would have seen our area was safe; not beset with missing children, you would think came from having a child predator who lived in a mountain cave nearby.
Toward the end of the summer of my fifteenth year, life was good. Thoughts of the Bubble Gum Man didn't cross my mind. My friends and I ran like packs through the park, on dark nights, playing spotlight, where we carried flashlights to tag our rivals.
We swam, took our turns at tentative and fragile romances, dreamed of a bright future and shared our hopes about escaping to the city one day. Though the small hamlet of Clearlake Highlands had a crime rate nearing one percent and offered nearly everything a person could need for a good life, we thought of having much larger lives than our parents. We hoped for more and wanted everything.
One night after a game of Spot, Kyle, Raley, a few other kids and I lay on the warm sand, soaking up moonlight, listening to the music drifting over from the nearby bar. We spoke in low tones, about graduating, leaving the Highlands, what we wanted to do with the dwindling days of summer.A perfect night by all accounts until one of the other kids spotted the one person no one wanted to see.
"Hey, isn't that the Bubble Gum Man over there?"
All heads turned to look at the freckle-faced girl pointing to a lonely stretch of beach. We sat up, curious, looking intently, for that familiar and strange figure.Even in the dim light, I knew from the bearded profile, the rumpled clothing and hunched shoulders, it was him, absent the bicycle.It appeared as if he had found something interesting in one of the garbage cans. Though no one had ever seen him going through trash before, the behavior fit with the countless stories we had heard abouthim over the years.
"I think he's dumpster diving," said Kyle.
Raley elbowed him and smiled. "That's not a dumpster, Dummy.
It's a trash can."
Kyle shrugged, glanced back at the man. "Same thing. Ugh. The guy is so gross. I wish he'd just leave."
"How 'bout we tell him to leave," said one of the other boys. I didn't know him well. Kyle had introduced him as one of Raley's cousins, visiting from the city.
"He's not bothering anyone," said freckle-face, an expression of calm marking her features. Sitting there, in her turquoise patterned summer dress, she looked even more beautiful than Raley. I smiled at her.
"That's true," I said, agreeing, trying to impress again. "He's not bothering anyone. Just leave him alone."
"He's bothering me," said the cousin, standing now, with hands on his hips. "I see enough of this in the city, don't want to see it while I'm on vacation."
The boy was large. He looked big enough to be on the high school football team, which is something most of the crowd I hung around with didn't know anything about. We were the nerdy adventurous types. We did our work through the year, got good grades, worked on the year book, took journalism or photography classes and wished for adventure. We read National Geographic and Smithsonian.
He began striding down the beach toward the hunched figure, the rest of us rising from the sand like rabbits tentatively poking noses from burrows. A common element of fear and surprise ran throughus. I felt it, glancing around at the faces of those around me.
"What's he gonna do?" asked Freckle-face. That same fear I felt, sounding in her voice.
Without realizing it, I had begun moving, following in the cousin's footsteps. All of us followed, perhaps out of perverse curiosity, to see how this would unfold, but also to stop the boy who would disturb our strange little world with his city ways.
Kyle finally replied. "He's not going to do anything. He just likes to talk big."
I nodded, hoping my friend was right, a tight knot forming in my chest. Wishing I could turn around and run home, tell an adult, or someone who would take responsibility.We stopped far enough away to mark ourselves divorced from the situation, but close enough that we could hear the conversation. The cousin stopped several feet from the Bubble Gum Man. "Hey, Old Guy," he called.
The older man, glanced up, his beard seeming much longer than it usually was. He stopped rummaging, looked at the cousin, waiting.
"You shouldn't be on this beach by yourself this late at night. Go on home."
The Bubble Gum Man appeared to consider this for a moment, then turned his attention back to the garbage and continued his hunt for whatever it was he had been looking for. I noticed a small bag held in one withered hand, probably for his nightly cache--whatever that might be.
"Billy!" Raley called out to her cousin, but he didn't seem to hear her. Perhaps he was just ignoring her, we weren't sure.
"Hey Man, I said beat it. You need to leave now, or I'm going to have to escort you off the beach myself.""Billy!" Raley called again, as she began moving closer to the figures. "Come on now. Leave the man alone. Let's go."
The Bubble Gum Man seemed to have found something, pulling it from the trash and dumping it into his sack. I heard the tinny sound of metal striking metal.
"He's collecting cans," I said, to no one in particular.
"That's probably how he pays for the gum," said Freckle-Face, quietly beside me. I glanced over and saw she was watching Billy with a worried expression.
"We can't let him hurt the old guy. My mom said he's retarded."
This was the first time I had heard that part of the story. So in addition to living in a mountain cave, Bubble Gum Man had become a disabled individual. Was he still a pervert? I didn't know. What I did know, was that despite the stories, this man had lived within, but just outside our community for our entire lives. In reality, he had never done anything malicious to any of us. In fact, he had always been a benevolent figure who simultaneously terrified and amazed. We smiled when we thought of him, but shivered in fear when listening to the tales about him, grateful we were the fortunate ones who had not been taken to his cave.
Billy moved in, just as the old guy reached into the trash can again. Time slowed, the rest of the world fell away from our little group and every bit of my attention focused on that hand reaching for the old guy.I knew then, the Bubble Gum Man was harmless, and trying to fit in the best way he knew how. What Billy intended was worse than bullying. By the look on his face, the grim set of his lips, he wanted to hurt the man.
"Stop it!"
Kyle and I screamed the command in unison. Raley had come up behind her cousin and slapped hishand away. "Stop it right now Billy, or I'm going to tell your mom."
The sound of another can dropped into the sack caused me to glance at the older man. He looked upand met my eye. Nodded. "You a good boy Joe. Tank yoo." He turned and began hobbling up the beachwith a slight limp.His voice held that familiar speech pattern of those who were mentally challenged. Freckle-Face's mom was right. I glanced at her and saw she was watching curiously.Glad for the cover of night, I colored and glanced away, but let her know I was paying attention.
"Your mom was right," I said. She nodded, but remained quiet.
Kyle yelled again, breaking into my thoughts. "Stop him!"
Billy had broken away from our group and sprint down the beach after the Bubble Gum Man. Kyle on his heel, me tagging behind. The girls brought up the rear, screaming for Billy to stop.By the light of the moon, we saw Billy reach the figure limping across the sand. He did not stop running though. Instead, he crashed into the man with an elbow jutting into the back of the old man's neck. Both figures crashed to the ground, aluminum cans clattered in the sack flying across the beach.Kyle was there first, pulling on Billy, who seemed bent on pummeling the old man, who now had his hands up to cover his face, shrinking against the beach floor, as if he could somehow become invisible. The sight fueled my own anger and like Kyle, I grabbed at Billy. Anything I could grab was fine with me, as long as I could pull him from the Bubble Gum Man.
The boy's hair locked in my fists, I pulled hard, jerking his head back as Kyle pulled an arm. Raley and Freckle-Face moved past us, a glance in thier direction and the girls both told us they were taking care of the old man.
As we pulled him toward the water, Kyle shouted, "Stop fighting," to no avail.
"Screw you guys. I'm gonna kill that guy." There was no doubt in my mind the boy meant what he said. Face contorted by rage, eyes glazed over, he still searched for his prey.
When we reached the water, we glanced at each other and were of the same mind. We pulled him out, Kyle holding one arm, a grip on the back of the boy's neck, me holding the other; every bit of strength I had going into pushing my weight on to his back to hold him down.Billy was large and strong, but working together we managed to keep him under until he stopped struggling. Then we let him go.
Soaked, we moved back on to the beach where the girls comforted the old man. He sat with his sack in his lap, rocking back and forth, emitting a cry that reminded me of a wounded animal, knowing it was about to die.
"It's okay John. It's gonna be okay. We got rid of that guy. He'll never bother you again," soothed Freckle-Face.
After several minutes the old man finally looked up at us standing around him. When younger I hadbeen fascinated with taking in all the details of his dirty beard, the weathered face, the rumpled clothing, but had never looked into the man's eyes before.Like the sound of his cry, this man's eyes were pure soul. The eyes of a child wounded and alone. Years of sorrow dwelt there. I knelt next to him. "No one will ever hurt you again," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. "I promise." I meant it too.
Raley glanced out at the figure floating back up toward the beach. "I guess he tripped on a rock or something, huh?"
Kyle and I looked at each other and nodded, unsmiling.Today, the kids know the Bubble Gum Man's name is John. He collects aluminum cans to buy bubble gum for anyone who asks for it. That's why most of us save our cans and set them out on the curb for him, when we know he's coming by.No one really knows when the tradition started, or why, but there are still stories about him. Some say he began giving out bubble gum when he just happened to have an extra piece, and handed it to a child. When he saw the smile lighting up that kid's face, the tradition was born.