I think Mel really enjoyed getting under people's skin. Everyday he went through the same old argument at the gym. He wanted the windows open and everyone else wanted them closed. As soon as someone would close them, he would walk over to the windows and open them, then walk back muttering something about "you f#cking bastids". Still as Rick said. They all like Mel. He was a straight shooter. There was no bullshitting around, no pretenses. What you see is what you get. He was a man of his word.
For all his flaws and eccentric behavior, I loved that man like a grandfather. He wanted me to move in with him but I knew that would never work out. He would have drove me nuts. There was a time when I wasn't getting along with my father and he didn't want me around the house. So I slept in the San Gabriel Riverbed, at Marano Beach, with the hobos. It was no big deal really and I mention it just to make a point. As much as I loved that old curmudgeon I would rather have slept in the riverbed with the hobos than move in with him. I never told him about that.
Randy
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Damn Randy, I understand! I'd also take a river-bed hobo camp to sharing a home with Mel. What happens when you bring home "the broad"? What happens when you come home after 9pm? What happens when an old friend from out of town stops by to say "hello" wearing an earring? What if you want to listen to music? What if you drink a beer and he smells it on your breath? What if you just wander in late, what's to keep him from pulling the trigger of the little pistol he's just stuck between your ribs?Lots of liabilities living with Mel. hobo camp? Good choice!
-Rick
