Frank found no advantage in getting an email address, but he cooperated because his life had been so chaotic up this point. I drove him to the Ajo library where he could use a computer terminal. After bringing up Yahoo I asked how to spell his name.
“I’m not telling these people who I am.”
“You have to or we can’t get this done,” I argued.
“Then forget it,” he said, standing up to leave.
“Wait,” I protested. “Tell them something. Anything.”
“Okay. Type Coyote Harley.”
To my surprise the information was accepted, and before we left he had an email address with Yahoo.
I jotted his email address as well as mine on a small piece of paper and told him to put in his wallet. He gave me an uncertain look and I knew he didn’t have a clue.
“If you’re not sure how to do this, asked any librarian for help. Chances are they will do it for you. Just give them at slip of paper with the addresses on and tell them it’s important.”
The next morning he was gone and I was saddled with the task of selling his stuff. I didn’t know how to start.