The Bird Man of Ravenswood

ROMAN ANASTOPOULUS died today, March 17, at 2:30 P.M, of a broken heart. He was 54 years old. A former postal worker for the City of Chicago, Roman had spent the better part of the last years of his life mourning the loss of his wife, Vicki, and his only daughter, Patricia. Both victims of tragic ends.

Sources close to the deceased, (which were very hard to come by, considering Roman had nobody in his life), said that Vicki had divorced Roman in 1989, after an extended affair with her boss. A year later, she died in a tragic boating accident on Lake Michigan, while attending the floating wedding of a co-worker. Their only child, Patricia, who Roman raised on his own, died just 6 months ago. She was 25. Prone to depression, the life Patricia had carved out for herself was just not meeting her expectations, and this often left her without hope. She took her own life when she stepped in front of the Irving Park bus during rush hour last September. She had just finished an 18 month contract working for the phone company, SBC.

Marked by a life of tragedy and overwhelming grief, Roman’s only joy in life was for the birds. In fact, his relationship with the fowl of Chicago’s North side earned him the moniker of the Bird Man of Ravenswood. If you ever drove down the lonely stretch of Western Avenue, between Wilson and Lawrence, you saw him. Sitting on a lone fire hydrant. Covered in shit. And pigeons. But that was Roman’s only consolation in life.

There were frequently complaints about the sidewalk where Roman sat. Sanitary issues caused the city to put up signs warning against the feeding of the birds, but they never enforced it. How could they? So Roman sat. His pockets full of bread crumbs. Taking care of the only family he had. Until today, the celebration of an Irish saint, when a lonely, maligned Greek man died peacefully on the streets of Chicago. Not even a holiday to call his own as his feathered friends carried away his soul to heaven.