if you are my vintage, you know this song. I'd write all the lyrics out for you, but it's too hard for me to do. they are just too true.
so, here is something you'll find stupid. my dog, that wasn't really even my dog died. yesterday. he was put down. as they say. and yeah, i'm sure it was all for the best, but i gotta tell you that i am bluer than blue and sadder than sad over this.
that dog was my friend. and i mean that. not in the "dog's are man's best friend" way- like they are useful and uplifting to be around. i mean it in the sense that this dog was my friend. i spent a lot of alone time with this dog. i talked to this dog. i poured my heart out to this dog. sometimes without saying a word. but there was this understanding on my part that there was nothing i could tell this dog that he would not understand. nothing i could tell this dog that he would not forgive me for. nothing i could tell this dog that would make him hate me. nothing that i could tell this dog that would make him anything less than ecstatic to see me the next time i came to town.
he was my friend who i trusted, when truth be told, i trusted absolutely no one. and while it is true, i'm a bit more trusting today than when that dog and i first became friends, on his absenting the world, i find there is not really anyone else left here on earth that i feel that i can completely confide in about everything. yes, there are a few people who i might confide in for somethings, but not for everything.
not like this dog. and so yeah. i loved that dog. and as Young sang, "Only love can break your heart."
and my heart is shattered right now into little pieces. again.
now, please don't worry. i'm ok. i'm going on with life. i've no thoughts that i can't go on. or that i can't get up tomorrow morning. i have learned to be very steely, you see. in ways that i never ever was before. i can. i will assimilate this awful thing into my being. and while it hurts, i'll be ok.
so that out of the way. the other thing i wanted to say here was that another thing makes this hard for me to deal with is just the concept of death. "what if your world should fall apart?" and so, you know how you have these anchors in your life. people- dogs- whatever who you just count on being there? they keep you stable? well, as you know from the past, i have a lot of trouble when my anchors disappear. and i don't quite get the concept of how a soul can be here in one minute and not the next. and i don't have the christian comfort of thinking i'll see loved ones in heaven or the buddhist or hindu belief that we'll be reincarnated or anything. i do think now that you are just gone when you are gone. and that is that. these souls were just there. and then they're not. that's just what i think. and really, what i want to think
cuz, truth be told, i'm not too consoled by the christian thought that we might see each other in heaven again someday. i honestly don't believe i'd qualify for heaven in the first place, even if i stopped my evil, sinful disbelief and bad behaviors right this minute. and even if i somehow squeaked in, there would be people up there in heaven, i'd be afraid to see again. you know, the kid i wasn't nice too. or the friend who i didn't take time to understand or care about. or even my father, who has to be disappointed that i didn't amount to much even while he gave me everything.
reincarnation is something taht is a bit more consoling to me. but i don't really relish the thought of coming back as a starving kid in africa or house cat or something.
and i'm sure there are many more theories on the afterlife, but i know of none that comfort me more than just ceasing to exist.
but still, dammit. i want to see my friend, Arthur again. i loved him. he loved me. and yes, only love can break your heart.
Sunday, January 29, 2017
Saturday, November 12, 2016
unfriendliness
so have you unfriended or been unfriended over the election yet? i have been unfriended. and i have considered it. and i have supported a friend who has unfriended. right now however, i'm not yet inclined to. on social media, i've decided to ignore the hatefuls, continue to be as opinionated as i want to be on my own page, ignore their pages, and if they come to mine to pick a fight, they'll get one. and if they choose to unfriend me, i'll tell them, "don't let the door hit ya."
i really don't care. i. do. not. care. there is literally no one that would unfriend me that i give two hoots about. and quite honestly, there is no one really who can rattle me by disagreeing with me, insulting me, calling me evil or stupid or ridiculous. (ok, i did once get rattled by this woman who was quite persistent in literally calling me stupid. and i told her friend that if he didn't shut her down, then i would. and it would not be pretty. and i never heard from her again.)
but that aside, i'm a fair amount of unflappable about people insulting me anymore. i suppose that comes from having someone who you thought loved you call you evil and vile. once the worst has happened, what the hell does any of the rest of it matter? it pretty much frees you not to care.
for the record- i am not evil. or vile. i make my share of mistakes. i'm sometimes clumsy and inarticulate. i'm pretty opinionated about stuff, and i'm not inclined to keep those opinions to myself. and if you insult me or my children, i may just snap if i've had no sleep, and insult you back. but that hardly makes me evil. or vile. it makes me a person who you might not like. but not evil. or vile.
but i'll tell you who is. the people who voted for trump. and Mike Pence. he is evil and vile. yeah, i know you thought i was going to say donald trump. you thought i was going to say he was evil and vile. and while i despise him, and he disgusts me, and i guess i consider him vile; i'm not really sure i consider him evil. i just think he's a spoiled brat jerk, and he's horrible and a ridiculous caricature of a man. but that's not exactly the same as evil. again. mike pence is the epitome of that. donald just wants to ruin other people's lives so he can look like a big shot because he's a narcissist. it's what narcissists do. they can't help it. they think only of themselves. pence, on the other hand, wants to ruin people's lives because he's deep down evil inside. and i honestly believe when he accomplishes an evil thing that it makes him happy. he might just be the anti-christ, if you ask me.
oh so anyway. i know i'm babbling. this week has exhausted me. anyway, i think i started talking about unfriendliness. and somehow it ended with calling pence the anti-christ. was that unfriendly?
i really don't care. i. do. not. care. there is literally no one that would unfriend me that i give two hoots about. and quite honestly, there is no one really who can rattle me by disagreeing with me, insulting me, calling me evil or stupid or ridiculous. (ok, i did once get rattled by this woman who was quite persistent in literally calling me stupid. and i told her friend that if he didn't shut her down, then i would. and it would not be pretty. and i never heard from her again.)
but that aside, i'm a fair amount of unflappable about people insulting me anymore. i suppose that comes from having someone who you thought loved you call you evil and vile. once the worst has happened, what the hell does any of the rest of it matter? it pretty much frees you not to care.
for the record- i am not evil. or vile. i make my share of mistakes. i'm sometimes clumsy and inarticulate. i'm pretty opinionated about stuff, and i'm not inclined to keep those opinions to myself. and if you insult me or my children, i may just snap if i've had no sleep, and insult you back. but that hardly makes me evil. or vile. it makes me a person who you might not like. but not evil. or vile.
but i'll tell you who is. the people who voted for trump. and Mike Pence. he is evil and vile. yeah, i know you thought i was going to say donald trump. you thought i was going to say he was evil and vile. and while i despise him, and he disgusts me, and i guess i consider him vile; i'm not really sure i consider him evil. i just think he's a spoiled brat jerk, and he's horrible and a ridiculous caricature of a man. but that's not exactly the same as evil. again. mike pence is the epitome of that. donald just wants to ruin other people's lives so he can look like a big shot because he's a narcissist. it's what narcissists do. they can't help it. they think only of themselves. pence, on the other hand, wants to ruin people's lives because he's deep down evil inside. and i honestly believe when he accomplishes an evil thing that it makes him happy. he might just be the anti-christ, if you ask me.
oh so anyway. i know i'm babbling. this week has exhausted me. anyway, i think i started talking about unfriendliness. and somehow it ended with calling pence the anti-christ. was that unfriendly?
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Walking 22 miles in someone else's shoes
So, first- please don’t think that my writing this implies I really know what being actually homeless feels like. I’ve not slept under a bridge or in a car, or been without food for more than a day, or without a phone, or even a computer, for that matter. I’ve not ever tried to get a child ready for and to school with no running water or electricity, or even to get to job while lacking those things. But I did recently have an experience of being displaced from my apartment home that helped me to better understand the plight of someone who is truly homeless. I was only displaced to 22 miles away from my usual home in the home of a friend. So, no, I can’t speak to the sheer physical miseries of being out in the cold or the unrelenting heat. And no, I can’t speak to not having ample resources and cash on hand and no credit. But I can speak just a tiny-teeny bit to how disorienting and disruptive it is to not know exactly from day to day where you are going to eat, sleep, do your homework (I have homework for my job) and relax. And I’m also going to make further disclaimer here, that I really don’t fully know these feelings either because I have these gracious and wonderful friends, many of them who opened up their homes to me, plus I always had an end to my displacement (though constantly shifting) in sight.
What I’m here to tell you though, is that through my experience with all my relative comforts, resources, and advantages, I realize that I likely wouldn’t last a week in a true homeless state of being. ProjectHome.org has reported the following, “On a single night in January 2015, there were 564,708 people experiencing homelessness in the United States. Sixty-nine percent of those who were homeless were in sheltered locations and 31 percent were found in unsheltered locations (streets, abandoned buildings, cars, etc.).
Nearly one-quarter (23 percent or 127,787) of all homeless people were children, under the age of 18. Ten percent (or 52,973) were between the ages of 18 and 24, and 66 percent (or 383,948) were 25 years or older.” Let those statistics sink in. They make my spirits sink, especially now that I’ve had my displacement experience.
Now, first I want to tell you that my displacement was not at all or in any way my fault. That said, I don’t think it’s particularly helpful to any conversation about homelessness to assign blame to the homeless, and it’s silly to blame anyway, except in factoring in how much more difficult it will be to get out of the state due to certain circumstances. But regardless, it simply really doesn’t matter at all to this particular discussion why a person became homeless; I just want to share a little bit of what they may be feeling and the obstacles they face. This is my list of problems I faced being displaced that I think would be hundred fold for the actual homeless.
Confusion: As in “what day is it?” kind of confusion. “Is this the day I need my lesson plans or my data sheets with me?” “Where the heck is my deodorant, my car keys, my phone?” “Will I have time for lunch between job shifts today?” Where is the closest grocery store?” This kind of confusion constantly eats away at your energy level and your mental clarity. You don’t realize it would, but it does.
Fatigue: As in never really getting a good night’s sleep in a different place, fatigue. Day after day. As in waking up feeling like you never really went to sleep fatigue. As in, I wish I could just find somewhere to relax and close my eyes for 10 minutes this afternoon, fatigue. As in when I got a chance one day, I slept for 16 hours straight-fatigue.
Hunger: Ok, I never really experienced actual hunger, but I did have to spend much more money and energy on procuring meals. I couldn’t just run home at 2 and have my usual cottage cheese and tomatoes or my turkey sandwich. Where I was staying was 22 miles away from work and there wasn’t time to get there and back. And yes, I could have packed my lunch, and I eventually did after a few days when I got myself organized, but that did involve me having a kind friend with a refrigerator that I could put stuff in. But, even so, I certainly ate out a lot more than usual and at odd times as well. What I’m trying to say is that eating became pretty much a chore, rather than something I rarely think much about or when I do, I usually enjoy. So, a joy from my life, turned into a hassle would be the best way to describe this. And so when you think about criticizing the homeless for eating junk food or even for having a cigarette, for pete’s sake, think about this- do you really begrudge them something that makes them feel comforted or soothed for a minute? Really?
Frustration: So during the time of my displacement, I was having to deal with the apartment manager and the restoration of my apartment, the start of a new school year, and a slightly different job. If you’ve ever been in any kind of situation where you feel increasingly powerless and unsuccessful at getting things done, you’ll understand this feeling. And while my constant 3 week haggling with the apartment management over things not being done, and my frustration with not having enough time to complete my work tasks was considerable to me, I think it would pale in the amount of frustration a person might feel dealing with paperwork and policies of assistance agencies that are grossly understaffed and underfunded. It was frustrating to me to have to drive 22 miles to get my mail each day, and then have a postal worker chew me out for not coming to pick up a package sent to me in what he thought was a timely fashion. It was frustrating to me to wake up at 3 in the morning one night and suddenly remember that my car insurance and license plates both need to be renewed right away that month, and mind you, I had full access to the internet, a computer and a credit card with good credit. But I was frustrated because in all the confusion, it had slipped my mind, and who knows if I hadn’t been dreaming about it if I would have remembered. Plus, I didn’t have access to or memory for passwords that I use but once a year, and so I had to create new usernames and passwords. These small things frustrated me. It frustrates me that I was actually wasting my dreams on something paying for my car plates and insurance. And I can’t imagine being actually homeless and not having access to resources and instead having to stand in a physical line for the things you need.
Emotional Instability: So, I was very frustrated with the management of my apartment, and I was completely exhausted. But I really had NO idea how very tired and upset I was until one day while I was displaced, a friend called and was asking me how things were going. And as I began to tell her of the recent events, I began to cry. I want you to know that I almost never cry. And it came as a complete surprise to me that I had started crying while I was talking to her. I seemed to have no floodgate whatsoever on my emotions just right then. And I’m a person who prides myself on having very strong, very shored-up floodgates these days. I don’t even know how a person without such friends to ask them how they were doing in the first place, and who have to live without privacy and must cry in public, holds in their emotions.
Anger: As part of the emotional lability I suffered, I have to say that I was at times irrationally angry at the wrong people for the wrong reasons. I was really angry with the apartment manager, true, but I had to keep my cool with her. So instead, my anger apparently needed somewhere to go, and since I wasn’t getting my usual daily exercise because I didn’t have access to my apartment’s fitness center as per usual, I found myself either almost snapping at stupid little things people said or did, and even one day really snapping, in anger towards someone at work for an innocent mistake they made. No, I didn’t throw a fit or anything, and I was barely mean to them, but I also didn’t exhibit my usual patience with this person. I told her to figure out the situation herself. I later apologized and explained why I was having a bad day, and I hope she understands that I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. I do think she does understand, but the point I’m trying to make is that anger easily came to the surface during my displacement. So, I’m thinking if you find a homeless person not exhibiting a sunny disposition when you walk by them, you might want to have some sympathy. Or at the very least, consider this person might be not only on edge, but on THE edge.
Inability to keep up personal appearance: Yeah, I’m not really a real girly-girl. I can and usually do take the quickest of showers and let my hair dry in the wind. I don’t like getting up in the morning ever, and the time it would take me to fuss excessively with my hair is better spent on precious seconds of sleep, in my opinion. I wear mascara, and a small amount of cover-up make-up daily that takes me about 30 seconds to put on. I trim my nails short, and I don’t usually wear nail polish. I wear minimal jewelry both because I don’t like a lot of jewelry on any person, let alone my person, and partly because I just don’t have a lot, by most girl standards. I dress simply. Either a dress and sandals in the summer or a t-shirt and slacks. That’s how I’m most comfortable. So, you wouldn’t think this would have been such a huge hassle for me during my displacement, but stupid things like not realizing I’d not packed more underwear, or being unable to locate my tweezers and my nail clipper or my deodorant, and having to get up a half-hour earlier each day in order to get to work on time got in my way. Plus brushing your teeth? Where the heck does a homeless person go to brush their teeth that isn’t totally disgusting? Now I can only imagine the hassle of not knowing where you can brush your teeth or shower, or even having enough underwear in the first place or anywhere to keep it in the second place would unhinge a person. I know now though, that it would unhinge me. I took these things for granted, and I’m willing to bet that you do too. But try to keep it in mind next time you recoil from a dirty, poorly dressed homeless person or think about them going to a job interview. It’s just not all that easy to keep up appearances when you don’t have a home.
Isolation: I mentioned before that I had/have very gracious friends. I also have a wonderful supportive family, although not in the same city with me. But even as sympathetic, empathetic, and genuinely helpful as they all were, I felt a real, searing isolation from people. I would imagine that if you’re actually homeless, you might seek out or just find other homeless people who know and understand how you feel. That’s if you’re lucky, I guess. But, on the other hand, maybe you’re not lucky to have your fellow homeless for associates. They may be in worse straits than you. They may be bad influences. They may be mentally ill. Please know that I’m not pegging them as bad people, but only saying that those who are homeless are probably not in a position to help you much. I am thinking you might feel completely alone in the world, and like no one really cares, really knows how to care, or really understands your situation. Mother Teresa is quoted as saying “Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.” I can’t really think of a truer sentiment than that. And while my situation came about through no fault of my own, when you try to understand homelessness, you may also want to add in feelings of guilt to that feeling of loneliness. Some homeless may actually feel partially or all to blame for their state of being. Politicians certainly will try to make them feel that way if they don’t already. And so, add that guilt in and you get a double whammy of negativity and hopeless about your life and your circumstances.
As I said at the top, I in no way consider myself really able to understand the plight of a homeless person. But I will say that my displacement experience has certainly given me pause and cause to check some of my pre-conceived thoughts about the homeless community. I am hearing the lyrics of R.E.M.’s New Test Leper in my head right now as I’m typing. “Judge not lest ye be judged.” What a beautiful refrain….” “I am not an animal” subtitled under the screen.” “Call me a leper.” Yes, I’m being overly dramatic for my situation, but for a true homeless person, I don’t think I am. I’m not trying to be. I guess I’m just thinking something good should come out of my experience.
As a post script to these thoughts, I want to add that one day while I was still displaced and very upset, I was driving to my hometown to see my grandson in a baseball game, and I stopped at a Starbucks to get a cup of coffee. I was already late and was regretting my decision to get in the drive thru line because it was moving exceptionally slowly. But I had a headache from all the stress and I desperately wanted the caffeine to ease that and so I stuck with it, growing increasingly impatient and upset as the time ticked away. When I finally got to the window and stuck out my debit card to pay, the barista said, “oh, no charge, the couple in front of you, paid for your latte.” And I’m driving away, thinking that’s the nicest damn thing that’s happened to me in a month now and I’m very touched by their sweetness and pay-it-forwardness. Right up until I take a drink of my latte and it’s undrinkable. I have no idea what they did to it, but it was just awful and I couldn’t drink it. And I start to cry for how absurd the whole thing was. And then, I start to laugh- for the joy of it all. For how absurd life is. Life is absurd, it really is. So all I can say is this- when you have a chance and the energy to be kind- be kind. You never know when you’re not going to be in the position to be. And you never know what’s it’s going to mean to the crazy homeless person behind you in the red car.
What I’m here to tell you though, is that through my experience with all my relative comforts, resources, and advantages, I realize that I likely wouldn’t last a week in a true homeless state of being. ProjectHome.org has reported the following, “On a single night in January 2015, there were 564,708 people experiencing homelessness in the United States. Sixty-nine percent of those who were homeless were in sheltered locations and 31 percent were found in unsheltered locations (streets, abandoned buildings, cars, etc.).
Nearly one-quarter (23 percent or 127,787) of all homeless people were children, under the age of 18. Ten percent (or 52,973) were between the ages of 18 and 24, and 66 percent (or 383,948) were 25 years or older.” Let those statistics sink in. They make my spirits sink, especially now that I’ve had my displacement experience.
Now, first I want to tell you that my displacement was not at all or in any way my fault. That said, I don’t think it’s particularly helpful to any conversation about homelessness to assign blame to the homeless, and it’s silly to blame anyway, except in factoring in how much more difficult it will be to get out of the state due to certain circumstances. But regardless, it simply really doesn’t matter at all to this particular discussion why a person became homeless; I just want to share a little bit of what they may be feeling and the obstacles they face. This is my list of problems I faced being displaced that I think would be hundred fold for the actual homeless.
Confusion: As in “what day is it?” kind of confusion. “Is this the day I need my lesson plans or my data sheets with me?” “Where the heck is my deodorant, my car keys, my phone?” “Will I have time for lunch between job shifts today?” Where is the closest grocery store?” This kind of confusion constantly eats away at your energy level and your mental clarity. You don’t realize it would, but it does.
Fatigue: As in never really getting a good night’s sleep in a different place, fatigue. Day after day. As in waking up feeling like you never really went to sleep fatigue. As in, I wish I could just find somewhere to relax and close my eyes for 10 minutes this afternoon, fatigue. As in when I got a chance one day, I slept for 16 hours straight-fatigue.
Hunger: Ok, I never really experienced actual hunger, but I did have to spend much more money and energy on procuring meals. I couldn’t just run home at 2 and have my usual cottage cheese and tomatoes or my turkey sandwich. Where I was staying was 22 miles away from work and there wasn’t time to get there and back. And yes, I could have packed my lunch, and I eventually did after a few days when I got myself organized, but that did involve me having a kind friend with a refrigerator that I could put stuff in. But, even so, I certainly ate out a lot more than usual and at odd times as well. What I’m trying to say is that eating became pretty much a chore, rather than something I rarely think much about or when I do, I usually enjoy. So, a joy from my life, turned into a hassle would be the best way to describe this. And so when you think about criticizing the homeless for eating junk food or even for having a cigarette, for pete’s sake, think about this- do you really begrudge them something that makes them feel comforted or soothed for a minute? Really?
Frustration: So during the time of my displacement, I was having to deal with the apartment manager and the restoration of my apartment, the start of a new school year, and a slightly different job. If you’ve ever been in any kind of situation where you feel increasingly powerless and unsuccessful at getting things done, you’ll understand this feeling. And while my constant 3 week haggling with the apartment management over things not being done, and my frustration with not having enough time to complete my work tasks was considerable to me, I think it would pale in the amount of frustration a person might feel dealing with paperwork and policies of assistance agencies that are grossly understaffed and underfunded. It was frustrating to me to have to drive 22 miles to get my mail each day, and then have a postal worker chew me out for not coming to pick up a package sent to me in what he thought was a timely fashion. It was frustrating to me to wake up at 3 in the morning one night and suddenly remember that my car insurance and license plates both need to be renewed right away that month, and mind you, I had full access to the internet, a computer and a credit card with good credit. But I was frustrated because in all the confusion, it had slipped my mind, and who knows if I hadn’t been dreaming about it if I would have remembered. Plus, I didn’t have access to or memory for passwords that I use but once a year, and so I had to create new usernames and passwords. These small things frustrated me. It frustrates me that I was actually wasting my dreams on something paying for my car plates and insurance. And I can’t imagine being actually homeless and not having access to resources and instead having to stand in a physical line for the things you need.
Emotional Instability: So, I was very frustrated with the management of my apartment, and I was completely exhausted. But I really had NO idea how very tired and upset I was until one day while I was displaced, a friend called and was asking me how things were going. And as I began to tell her of the recent events, I began to cry. I want you to know that I almost never cry. And it came as a complete surprise to me that I had started crying while I was talking to her. I seemed to have no floodgate whatsoever on my emotions just right then. And I’m a person who prides myself on having very strong, very shored-up floodgates these days. I don’t even know how a person without such friends to ask them how they were doing in the first place, and who have to live without privacy and must cry in public, holds in their emotions.
Anger: As part of the emotional lability I suffered, I have to say that I was at times irrationally angry at the wrong people for the wrong reasons. I was really angry with the apartment manager, true, but I had to keep my cool with her. So instead, my anger apparently needed somewhere to go, and since I wasn’t getting my usual daily exercise because I didn’t have access to my apartment’s fitness center as per usual, I found myself either almost snapping at stupid little things people said or did, and even one day really snapping, in anger towards someone at work for an innocent mistake they made. No, I didn’t throw a fit or anything, and I was barely mean to them, but I also didn’t exhibit my usual patience with this person. I told her to figure out the situation herself. I later apologized and explained why I was having a bad day, and I hope she understands that I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. I do think she does understand, but the point I’m trying to make is that anger easily came to the surface during my displacement. So, I’m thinking if you find a homeless person not exhibiting a sunny disposition when you walk by them, you might want to have some sympathy. Or at the very least, consider this person might be not only on edge, but on THE edge.
Inability to keep up personal appearance: Yeah, I’m not really a real girly-girl. I can and usually do take the quickest of showers and let my hair dry in the wind. I don’t like getting up in the morning ever, and the time it would take me to fuss excessively with my hair is better spent on precious seconds of sleep, in my opinion. I wear mascara, and a small amount of cover-up make-up daily that takes me about 30 seconds to put on. I trim my nails short, and I don’t usually wear nail polish. I wear minimal jewelry both because I don’t like a lot of jewelry on any person, let alone my person, and partly because I just don’t have a lot, by most girl standards. I dress simply. Either a dress and sandals in the summer or a t-shirt and slacks. That’s how I’m most comfortable. So, you wouldn’t think this would have been such a huge hassle for me during my displacement, but stupid things like not realizing I’d not packed more underwear, or being unable to locate my tweezers and my nail clipper or my deodorant, and having to get up a half-hour earlier each day in order to get to work on time got in my way. Plus brushing your teeth? Where the heck does a homeless person go to brush their teeth that isn’t totally disgusting? Now I can only imagine the hassle of not knowing where you can brush your teeth or shower, or even having enough underwear in the first place or anywhere to keep it in the second place would unhinge a person. I know now though, that it would unhinge me. I took these things for granted, and I’m willing to bet that you do too. But try to keep it in mind next time you recoil from a dirty, poorly dressed homeless person or think about them going to a job interview. It’s just not all that easy to keep up appearances when you don’t have a home.
Isolation: I mentioned before that I had/have very gracious friends. I also have a wonderful supportive family, although not in the same city with me. But even as sympathetic, empathetic, and genuinely helpful as they all were, I felt a real, searing isolation from people. I would imagine that if you’re actually homeless, you might seek out or just find other homeless people who know and understand how you feel. That’s if you’re lucky, I guess. But, on the other hand, maybe you’re not lucky to have your fellow homeless for associates. They may be in worse straits than you. They may be bad influences. They may be mentally ill. Please know that I’m not pegging them as bad people, but only saying that those who are homeless are probably not in a position to help you much. I am thinking you might feel completely alone in the world, and like no one really cares, really knows how to care, or really understands your situation. Mother Teresa is quoted as saying “Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.” I can’t really think of a truer sentiment than that. And while my situation came about through no fault of my own, when you try to understand homelessness, you may also want to add in feelings of guilt to that feeling of loneliness. Some homeless may actually feel partially or all to blame for their state of being. Politicians certainly will try to make them feel that way if they don’t already. And so, add that guilt in and you get a double whammy of negativity and hopeless about your life and your circumstances.
As I said at the top, I in no way consider myself really able to understand the plight of a homeless person. But I will say that my displacement experience has certainly given me pause and cause to check some of my pre-conceived thoughts about the homeless community. I am hearing the lyrics of R.E.M.’s New Test Leper in my head right now as I’m typing. “Judge not lest ye be judged.” What a beautiful refrain….” “I am not an animal” subtitled under the screen.” “Call me a leper.” Yes, I’m being overly dramatic for my situation, but for a true homeless person, I don’t think I am. I’m not trying to be. I guess I’m just thinking something good should come out of my experience.
As a post script to these thoughts, I want to add that one day while I was still displaced and very upset, I was driving to my hometown to see my grandson in a baseball game, and I stopped at a Starbucks to get a cup of coffee. I was already late and was regretting my decision to get in the drive thru line because it was moving exceptionally slowly. But I had a headache from all the stress and I desperately wanted the caffeine to ease that and so I stuck with it, growing increasingly impatient and upset as the time ticked away. When I finally got to the window and stuck out my debit card to pay, the barista said, “oh, no charge, the couple in front of you, paid for your latte.” And I’m driving away, thinking that’s the nicest damn thing that’s happened to me in a month now and I’m very touched by their sweetness and pay-it-forwardness. Right up until I take a drink of my latte and it’s undrinkable. I have no idea what they did to it, but it was just awful and I couldn’t drink it. And I start to cry for how absurd the whole thing was. And then, I start to laugh- for the joy of it all. For how absurd life is. Life is absurd, it really is. So all I can say is this- when you have a chance and the energy to be kind- be kind. You never know when you’re not going to be in the position to be. And you never know what’s it’s going to mean to the crazy homeless person behind you in the red car.
Thursday, July 7, 2016
Ruby Wednesday
my car, she is named Ruby. for reasons we have discussed before. and yes, much to my chagrin, she is red. but i still love her. for what she represents.
and even while she's a cheap little number, and i've neglected her woefully for all these years- she's never once let me down. she's really better than people. never a sputter or a klunk. starts every time in every kind of weather. never judges. never tells me i'm rotten or that i should be a better person. or to suck it up. or that i'm stupid. or childish. or being unreasonable.
she just carries me. where ever i need to be.
and so last night, after a long quiet drive home, i pulled into the lot just a shade after midnight, i locked her doors and went upstairs and went to bed, not planning to take her out again until thursday when i have to go to the downtown center. Ruby gets a lot of well-deserved rest here in Spring, Summer, and Fall, and even occasionally in Winter because I am able to ride my bike to work unless i'm working downtown. and so i'd planned for this morning too. to ride my trusty bike, Ruby's shade of grey companion.
except when i got up, it was raining. not raining. pouring. and so I decided to drive. which was a great plan right up until i put the key in the ignition. and nothing. absolutely nothing.
Ruby appeared to be dead. and there wasn't any time to mourn either. i needed to get to work. so i called a friend and she said she'd come and get me. then while i was standing in the rain under my umbrella waiting, my neighbor came out and offered to jump Ruby if i knew how to connect her cables. i explained i didn't have time to jump Ruby, even if i wouldn't have have had time to consult the internet to remember how to connect jumper cables. so she left me the cables and said that when i got home from work to deal with it all, if I didn't have someone else to jump the car that her husband/boyfriend (not sure which) would help me.
but as it happened, my friend who came and got me to take me to work had already called her husband and he was going to meet us for lunch and we'd go jump Ruby.
so that's what we did. and when he got her running, he said he'd follow me to the car place and then bring me home. which is what we did.
and i have left dear Ruby in the charge of the Firestone people who are checking the electrical system and if that's fine= installing a new battery, rotating the tires and changing the oil. and i'll have her back in time to drive downtown. all will be well. and Ruby even got a lot of admiration from the car people because they said it was kind of unheard of that you wouldn't have to replace a car battery in about 7 year's time. they said usually, you'll need to replace it after 3 or 4 years. what can i say? benign neglect seems to do wonders for a car, i guess.
and all is well. Ruby will live on, cooperating with my plan to keep her for 13 or so more years.
but can i say that it shook me up? that Ruby let me down? i felt like the proverbial rug had been pulled from under me. But, really, i do not blame her. after-all, she's carried me through quite a lot. over the last years. and truth be told, it was i who neglected her. i get that. admit that. but, still. it was shocking to me. to think my friend was gone there for a moment.
Our reunion tomorrow will be happy. Long may you run, Ruby. it'll be you and me again.
and even while she's a cheap little number, and i've neglected her woefully for all these years- she's never once let me down. she's really better than people. never a sputter or a klunk. starts every time in every kind of weather. never judges. never tells me i'm rotten or that i should be a better person. or to suck it up. or that i'm stupid. or childish. or being unreasonable.
she just carries me. where ever i need to be.
and so last night, after a long quiet drive home, i pulled into the lot just a shade after midnight, i locked her doors and went upstairs and went to bed, not planning to take her out again until thursday when i have to go to the downtown center. Ruby gets a lot of well-deserved rest here in Spring, Summer, and Fall, and even occasionally in Winter because I am able to ride my bike to work unless i'm working downtown. and so i'd planned for this morning too. to ride my trusty bike, Ruby's shade of grey companion.
except when i got up, it was raining. not raining. pouring. and so I decided to drive. which was a great plan right up until i put the key in the ignition. and nothing. absolutely nothing.
Ruby appeared to be dead. and there wasn't any time to mourn either. i needed to get to work. so i called a friend and she said she'd come and get me. then while i was standing in the rain under my umbrella waiting, my neighbor came out and offered to jump Ruby if i knew how to connect her cables. i explained i didn't have time to jump Ruby, even if i wouldn't have have had time to consult the internet to remember how to connect jumper cables. so she left me the cables and said that when i got home from work to deal with it all, if I didn't have someone else to jump the car that her husband/boyfriend (not sure which) would help me.
but as it happened, my friend who came and got me to take me to work had already called her husband and he was going to meet us for lunch and we'd go jump Ruby.
so that's what we did. and when he got her running, he said he'd follow me to the car place and then bring me home. which is what we did.
and i have left dear Ruby in the charge of the Firestone people who are checking the electrical system and if that's fine= installing a new battery, rotating the tires and changing the oil. and i'll have her back in time to drive downtown. all will be well. and Ruby even got a lot of admiration from the car people because they said it was kind of unheard of that you wouldn't have to replace a car battery in about 7 year's time. they said usually, you'll need to replace it after 3 or 4 years. what can i say? benign neglect seems to do wonders for a car, i guess.
and all is well. Ruby will live on, cooperating with my plan to keep her for 13 or so more years.
but can i say that it shook me up? that Ruby let me down? i felt like the proverbial rug had been pulled from under me. But, really, i do not blame her. after-all, she's carried me through quite a lot. over the last years. and truth be told, it was i who neglected her. i get that. admit that. but, still. it was shocking to me. to think my friend was gone there for a moment.
Our reunion tomorrow will be happy. Long may you run, Ruby. it'll be you and me again.
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