Several years ago a local real estate magazine came out with an issue showcasing high-end downtown real estate.  On the front cover was a picture of a very demure looking gentleman strolling down Broadway.  He was vibrantly adorned with beads, a Panama hat, and walking cane.  Perhaps a poet or artist, the image captured the eclectic lifestyle that epitomizes the downtown mystic. This man was Pepe. 

Pepe, pronounced “peppy”, lived without a home for over three decades.  He was a fixture in Lexington’s downtown.  I have known him longer than I’ve known Katheryn.  Pepe was a man who lived by a code.  He was homeless, but by choice.  I would say he was professionally homeless and took his career seriously.  He was college educated, a musician, and well read (he particularly loved western novels).  Pepe lived with only what he could carry on his back (and a suitcase of out of season clothes stored at a friend’s house).  He only took what was freely given to him and only what he needed.  He would often winter in Florida, but prided himself on surviving not too few Kentucky winters outside.  One year, he spent a few freezing weeks sleeping on a couch at a ministry house where I used to live.  He refused to sleep in the main part of the house, even though a bed was available, but preferred the back addition that stayed slightly above forty degrees in the winter.  Pepe didn’t make it to this winter.  He passed away from a heart attack a few days ago.  He was 60 or 61 or 63.  I know his real name, but he would never use it, so I won’t.  I hope you found what you were looking for Pepe.  Farewell.