Frank.
I met Frank the first day I started working at the beach. On my way into the ladies room a small scruffy bearded man visibly the worse for drink put his hand on my arm and demanded to know who I was. I shook his hand off me and said "I work here" pushing past him to continue my work.

Later I asked my coworkers about the old drunk guy who hung around all day and they told me he'd been living rough at the beach for as as anyone could remember. " just leave him alone, unless he's making a scene" Steve, the groups unofficial leader,told me. So I did.

Frank however, had a habit of making scenes. Whether wearing a santa hat in july, lolling drunk on the pavement or talking to all and sundry, he was always front and center.

The rains came and Frank didn't go to the shelters like the other homeless folk. "This is my beach and it's where I stay" he told me. He also told me all the clothes he had were the pair of ragged board s he'd been wearing for a week and his threadbare t-shirt. Despite the fact that it was still summer, I found myself shivering in the rain and felt really bad when when I saw Frank bedding down under the greeter counter to take advantage of the six inches or so of dry ground. I went home, found a fluffy blanket and drove back to the beach, with my dog for company.

I parked at the pavilion grabbed the bag I'd put the blanket in and my corgi Tom and I went in search of Frank. He was still where I left him and I was alarmed to see his foot peeking out from beneath the counter and violently shaking. I thought he must be having a seizure and came around the corner to see what I could do. Much to my relief and disgust, I found he was simply having a go at himself. Tom eyed him suspiciously as I pulled the blanket out and announced " here ya go Frank"." A Puppy!" Frank said excitedly and tried to call Tom over but neither Tom or I was having any of it. I gave Frank the blanket , told him goodnight and Tom and I went home. I felt guilty as I cozied up in my warm, dry little house.

As time passed Frank began to look sicker, and his visits to the ER became more frequent. Finally around October he let everyone know he had cancer and the doctors told him he wasn't going to live much er. I asked if he'd be better at a shelter but he was determined to live and die right there on his beach. One winter night the low was expected to be 40 degrees and I couldn't in good conscience leave Frank on tue beach to freeze to death.

I began calling around to the local shelters. I found out that Frank had a history at all of them. Repeated altercations with other patrons and staff. Sneaking alchohol onto the premises and coming in drunk. Any of these, it turned out got you banned from the shelters and apparently he'd done all of them and a couple there hadn't been rules against because no one had thought to misbehave in those ways before Frank. I was astounded to learn that there was no place for homeless who act out or won't give up their vices. I finally found one shelter, two cities over that would take him and a deputy was kind enough to drive him down there.

Franks drinking had intensified after his cancer diagnosis and one day I came in to find him sprawled on one of the beach tables. He was wearing his santa hat and there was a bloodstain on the side now. When I asked what happened he said he'd been drinking with some kids the night before, fallen and hit his head.He was drunk again or still but said he was fine so I let my boss know and left Frank to be Frank.

About an hour later, a patron stopped me and said she'd seen Frank fall from the bench and hit his head again. When I went to check him he was incoherent and couldn't even light the cigarette I pulled from his pack for him. I radioed the lifegaurds and told them what had happened and the shape he was in. About 15 minutes later 6 of them pulled into the beach pavilion in the pick up they used to patrol the beach and set about working on Frank. They tried to get him up and checked out for about ten minutes but gave up and called the sheriffs when Frank began swinging on the lifeguards.

Finally, Frank was pulled upright, put in handcuffs and taken to the hospital in a deputies car. He was away from the beach for all of 48 hours. I don't work out there any more but Frank is still there, having outlived the doctors prognosis and raising hell more often than not.