I first met Don “Same ‘Ol” Hocza in the back of Rite Aid, formally known as Thrifty’s, in the early 90s. I was a young skateboarding kid who used the village streets as my training ground. At this time skateboarding became illegal in the Carlsbad village and the local group of skateboarders 
instantly became rebels, outcasts and viewed by some as a plague contaminating the carefully manicured streets of the village.
At this time Same ‘Ol and I began frequenting the same spots. He used these locations to drink and live without hassle and I used them to continue skateboarding while avoiding citation. He used ledges to sleep on and I used them to grind. There was a homeless group that also frequented the same alleys, back side of grocery stores and empty parking lots, but Same ‘Ol always stood out. His scruffy beard whipped in the wind and round belly jiggled upon 
his rickety bike. A plastic bag of cans dripped along the asphalt and a wide smile greeted all.
Same ‘Ol and I soon developed a friendship and with each story and conversation, I realized the close ties between society’s view of the homeless and their view of the local skateboarders. The homeless and I felt the same way, forced into feeling sub human when all we wanted was to continue the lifestyle we had chosen. I wanted to skateboard without possible citation and Same ‘Ol wanted to continue living simply.
Same ‘Ol did continue living simply. He was void of all stresses and responsibilities, lived on the beach and was loved by many. I began to skateboard less over the years, but I think about the common ground we once shared every time I pick up a board.
In memory of Don “Same ‘Ol” Hocza 1954-2007
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