Papi

I wish we could hire him. Ron always gets nervous when I mention that in public. "People will think we're rich, Heather! Most people couldn't have employees!"

Faithful Papi. First I have to mention I drink a tremendous amount of canned diet soda. A couple cases a week, minimum.

A few years ago, I heard "something" in the garbage. I looked out the window and noticed an elderly hispanic man garbage-picking, carefully removing the cans. Poor guy, I thought.

Then the 15 years of California kicked in. See, recycling is huge out there. I always felt sacreligious throwing out a recyclable, especially aluminum cans. "Wow," I thought "This is great! I can recycle without leaving the house!" In Houston, at this point and time, you have to take your cans to a scrap metal place to sell them. I can't just leave the cans at the curb to get recycled. Or could I?

We started saving the cans. Boy, Papi loved that! He called Ron "Papi!" one day so that's what we started calling him. Even though my Spanish is minimal and his English is worse, we managed to communicate. Papi makes a run through our subdivision twice a week on garbage days. We told him we'd save our cans and put them on the porch for him to take.

Recently he managed to communicate that our house often yields more cans than half the subdivision. He's gone from plastic bags and gloves on his bicycle to a grabber tool and plastic panniers. Sometimes we'll see him, two large garbage bags of crushed aluminum cans, riding down the road.

Sun, sleet, rain, heat, cold, or holiday, he's on his route, collecting cans. He's faithful, diligent, and appreciative. He already got his cans today. 7:30 like always. He's got the best work ethic.

MAN! I wish we could hire him.