Seattle Series: "Shinebox"

Ready, set, go man go, I know a cat named "Shoeshine Willy." Yeah, I know, it didn't rhyme at all. I never said I was a poet, people. However, this sophisticated individual does go by the name Shoeshine Willy. I found Willy on the corner of South 1st Avenue and Washington Street near Pioneer Park in downtown Seattle. He was chatting away with the people as they passed by and exited the tavern in which he sat in front. Now let me make this clear, Willy had a tight operation going. He had a variety of polishes and shines with a full complement of clothes, brushes, and buffers to go with them. He had a box for customers if they were standing and a separate box for those who wished to have a seat. There was a difference in height and angle depending on the position of the client. He also has a cart. It was easy to see that this was custom made for his particular job and tailored to his liking. Yes, this was a man who is a master of his craft. 

Willy and I spent a length of time speaking to one another. More specifically, I listened while he spoke. This fact was perfectly acceptable to me. He reminded me of my grandfather and the stories he would tell about his life and experiences. Willy was a modest man, a man of simplicity and humbleness. He raised two boys. One became a carpenter and the other a school teacher. He lived in the same house he has for over forty years. He described it as being just right for what he needed. He receives Social Security and a small pension for his years as a custodian and receives a supplement to his Medicare through the state. “I shine shoes because I always have. I enjoy talking to people while I work.” Willy never made a lot of money so to make extra for his boys he shined shoes on the weekends. "I didn't mind. It was for my sons." A level of parental dedication that is to be admired, to say the least. Willy says he was blessed with a taste of the simple things in life. Fancy items seemed a burden to him. “Why would you want something that will cause you a headache?” I couldn’t have said it better.

I continued to listen as I snapped my images carefully making sure I did not interfere with his business. People came, people left, the regulars knew him by name. They conversed with him as if he were one of the gang. A heartwarming scene to be sure. It’s not often to see such genuine interaction between people. To expand on that notion, by the time I had left, two individuals had left beers on a tab, that would be one beer from each, and another left a meal for him when he was ready. It’s a testament to the kindness, honest heart, and soulful nature that Willy possesses. I felt bad for not wearing my Doc Martins. How the heck did I know I would meet someone that could bring them back to life, oh the humanity. I guess I’ll have to retire them with the last of my flannel shirts and ripped up jeans. But seriously, I thanked Willy for his time, put a little something in his tip jar, and continued my way down 1st Avenue.

I didn't give it much thought at the time, but the more I pondered, the more I realized that Willy is a wealthy man. He has everything he wants at this moment. He still has a roof over his head. His children are healthy and happy with their lives as well. He gets to do what he wants when he wants. He seemingly has a group of people that enjoy his company enough to treat him, to what I’m sure he considers, a feast because they feel he’s a great person. I can only speak for myself here but to want so little and get so much in return is an amazing thing. If I could give a small gift to the world, it would be to feel the humbleness and humility, just for one moment, that Willy has had his entire life. Then all of us could know what it’s like to be a person of great wealth as well.