John Kitsco

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Walter started out as a geologist. He worked in the frozen north, a place referred to as the Dew Line.  One cold winter night some other person working
with Walter attempted to strangle him. He survived but life was different, there
were the voices, pacing through the night, staying in hostels with forgotten
souls. And picking bottles. Lots and lots of bottles.

The wind was howling one cold winter night up here in Canada. My wife was
putting our young children in bed, I was reading.  The phone rang. Gosh, it was
Walter. And Walter asked: "Please John, could you pick me up at the bus
stop not far away...also I have several bags of  bottles....and please could I stay
the night..." Well,  I think my first reaction was...." Walter, its late...can
we do this another time...." then something, like a light....flashed before me...
and I found myself asking where he was. And yes, he could stay the night.
I doubt he slept, he paced in the hall, checking on his bottles....but next day
I drove him (and his collection) to the local bottle depot. Walter said so very
quiet and polite: "Well, thankyou John..." and the words rang like church
bells in my mind.

I drove around the block, checkd on him and even went so far as getting Walter
a fresh and warm cup of coffee from the local Burger King. Walter again
spoke:"Thankyou, Sir..." And I drove off to my work place.

The years passed and with the passing years Walter passed away, but his
kindness and warmth overshadowed his eccentric ways.  And yes, thats how
we wish to remember Walter the  Bottlepicker. Walter, our friend. And
even in passing he left a few old coins for the kids, a book about birds and
the knowledge that everyone on this good earth has a reason for being....