“Tori, I bet you didn’t know you were talking to an old bank robber,” Frank said.
My eyes were wide. I searched Frank’s face for a smile or a wink to let me know he was only kidding. The only other person in Frank’s studio apartment was Lila. She just smiled and looked at me as if to say, “Its true.” Frank was serious as a heart attack.
He went on:
“Me and my next door neighbor used to rob banks. I used to dress up like a woman to rob banks. I’d wear me a wig and a dress, and when I was done, I’d throw out the wig and the dress. I was in and out of jail for 31 years. It was a waste of time…“
With a laugh, Lila chimed in, “Well, at least the state was taking care of you then. Right, Frank?”
At 75 years old, Frank is a spry and lively man who insists on smoking hand-rolled cigarettes in his small studio apartment and only smoking manufactured cigarettes outside because “rolling cigarettes is cheaper.” You and I may not understand the logic there, but he’s got his program and he likes to stick to it. When he’s not dropping his spent cigarette butts into an old container filled halfway with murky black water, Frank drinks his instant coffee hot or cold, and spends most of his days watching television and rolling smokes from the center of his newly-worn twin-sized mattress, or fielding bunk sales calls from those pesky and unwavering cable and telephone service providers. On weekends, he volunteers his time folding programs for the Sunday service at his local church.
Frank
Frank lives in a low-income studio apartment provided by the Salvation Army. He doesn’t have much room to roam around, nor does he have all of the bells and whistles many of us have become accustomed to. No dishwasher, no laundry room, and limited accoutrements of any kind. Frank’s place is strictly utilitarian. A loaf of bread, a packet of saltines, a package of salami and plenty of instant coffee are basically the extent of his grocery list, and for the most part…he seems pretty happy with what he’s got. After all, he used to have nothing at all. That’s where Lila came in.
13 years ago, Frank was homeless. He spent his nights sleeping in the doorways of the Druid Hills United Methodist Church. “The church allowed the homeless to sleep in the doorways at night,” Lila said. She explained how most of the homeless visitors would stay as long as they needed and then disappear when they didn’t need the shelter anymore. But not Frank. He stuck around.
Over time, Frank got acquainted with Lila, an energetic member of the church, a mother of three and very busy member of Atlanta Volunteer Lawyers Foundation. In time, Lila was able to get Frank involved in the church and help him find housing and eventually, she helped him find his way to Sam.
Sam is Frank’s prosthetic leg. I’m not sure why the prosthetic has a name, and I don’t know where the name comes from, but just like Frank’s policy of smoking only rolled cigarettes inside and manufactured cigarettes outside, it just seems to fit and that was good enough for me.
Sam. Frank's prosthetic leg.
Not long after Lila came along, diabetes and a tough life on the streets took its toll on Frank. Lila took him to the doctor and where they discovered a nasty case of gangrene on his right leg. The infection was so severe that Frank was immediately admitted into the hospital and given a grim prognosis. The doctors didn’t expect Frank to last much longer considering how long the infection had potentially festered…but not Frank. Again, he stuck around. Just minus his right leg.
“I just woke up the next day and my leg was gone!”
Frank's rides.
These days, Frank gets around in one of two wheelchairs, and on the rare occasion Frank’s feeling froggy, he’ll strap on ol’ Sam to go for a stroll.
Strolls with Sam have become scarce with the passing of the years considering the harsh tolls diabetes and advancing age have taken on Frank’s body. These days, its been increasingly difficult for Frank to get around and to take care of his day-to-day activities. So, Lila contacted me to help come in and clean up his home with this email (edited to protect privacy):
Tori,Your email about your willingness to do odd jobs found its way to me at the perfect time. If you are serious about no job being too hard or disgusting (I exaggerate only a little), then I can use you. We need to do a deep cleaning on a studio apartment. There is an elderly man from my church who lives there, and the apartment has gotten very dirty and smelly as his strength has declined. There should be some humor for you as we move his prosthetic leg around the apartment while we clean. He can also give you lots of stories about his days at a bank robber (actually, he was a burglar) and the time he spent in federal prison.Give me a call and let’s talk price and schedule.
Lila B.
Mission 7:
Codename: Frank
Mission Description:
Clean Frank’s studio apartment with Lila B. without putting too much of cramp in Frank’s style. My focus rooms were the bathroom and the kitchen. To clean these 2 rooms, I employed approximately 4-5 Mr. Clean Magic Erasers, 2 bottles of all-purpose bleach cleansers, 2 new mops, one bottle of Fabuloso, 2 rolls of paper towels, one 6-ct package of latex gloves, approximately 7 hours over the course of 2 days. 3.5 hours for the bathroom, 3.5 hours for the kitchen and a boatload of crouching, scrubbing and elbow grease.
It was tough and pretty gross at times. But the company was well worth it.
Lila B. hard at work
Frank smiles for the camera
Mission somewhat accomplished. Frank got a little irritated because we cramped his style a little on the second day. Heck, you’ve got 2 women constantly moving your cigarettes and coffee around…TOTALLY understandable.
What I Learned:
1. Take care of your elderly.
2. It can be kind of tough to aim when you’re working with one leg.
3. If you’re going to rob a bank…dressing up like a member of the opposite sex won’t necessarily keep you out of Federal Prison.
4. Smoke rolled cigarettes inside and manufactured cigarettes outside because rolled cigarettes are cheaper.
5. Cigarette smoke stains the business out of your walls.
6. Little miracles happen every day. Just ask Frank.
