What's A Guy Like Me Doing Homeless?

I got asked this today. Again. I run across some version of that question, from time to time. Or a similar statement: "You don't look/seem homeless."

I originally began this blog with some intention of playing out the SlumJack Saga more completely -- including just what happened to result in this Tale in the first place. I've shot past that part, so far.

There is a website somewhere still in the works, meant to do that justice, along with some other features better suited to that form than a blog. It just hasn't yet been the highest priority.

Meanwhile, here's a very short form I posted way back when . . .

Getting In & Out of Dodge

I'd been parked in a preferred spot -- one that's unmetered and not subject to the two-hour limit, except for immediate residents that have stickers allowing them full, ongoing access. The default limit for others is 72 hours, which sometimes gets exceeded since who's keeping track that closely?

Well, someone might. A neighbor that would like to use the spot, instead, for instance. Or the local "parking patrol" folks wanting to make a quota. Or even the local cops that figure someone might be illegally living there. Especially when the Powers That Be in town are in one of their Sweep 'Em Out campaigns. And, lately, it could seem that this has been the case.

I got the word last night, from an acquaintance that keeps very late/early hours, that he'd seen a patrol cop at the rig, shining his flashlight in and knocking on it. At around 5am.

Earlier in the eve before, I was thinking about what it's like to turn in to try to go to sleep. In that hood, there's commonly drunken students out and about, even pretty late. And so there were. A gang of young bucks hooting and hollering in inebriated hooligan mode.

One has to somehow tune that out -- even though they're... right there. Right out there. And one ear needs to stay tuned to certain kinds of sounds. Anything telltale, like messing with the bike or rig. Same thing with sensing kinetic activity. But ya' can't stay too alert, since that foils sleep.

Just so, anyone else that might come by and "intrude."

Discovering that our diligent officers are keenly tending to "protect and serve" the public in the wee hours (and they so typically pick some of the worst) like that, I was glad to get an invite to go visit with a very good friend that asked me over. And several towns away.

Time for another break. On several scores. So I'm outa' Dodge, for the time being.

They're Rollin' on the Mobile Now, too!

Last night, some friends I hadn't seen in a few months showed up in my usual area. One has a van now, and all three were sleeping in there last night. They were parked two slots down from where I'd parked to overnight.

This morning, they told me that in the middle of the night, a police cruiser had pulled up and apparently ran all of our license plates, one by one. I'd heard tell the other day that someone had been talking to one of the "meter maids" who told them that, indeed, there was a plan to "enforce" against those of us living/sleeping in our vehicles.

This is against the law. Illegal. ESPECIALLY if you have a vehicle that's actually made for (i.e. good for) doing just that. Or if you've "modified" your vehicle in any way that can be deemed that (e.g. adding a "bed", having typical "living supplies" in apparent view, etc.). Of course, if cited, one can always go to all the time and trouble, and expense, to go to court to fight that.

Another couple that recently got themselves into a small RV truck and then, most recently, just barely managed to get some sorely needed repairs to keep it running and safe from seizure, awoke this morning to two citations on their windshield, about two blocks away from where I was. And the police had actually removed their license plates from the vehicle. Seems there was a problem with the annual registration stickers on 'em. They also have a coupla' unpaid parking tickets.

That's similar to how it often goes -- you get ticketed for minor parking infractions. These cost almost $50 each. At first. If not paid "on time" they begin to ratchet up, pretty quickly hitting $100 apiece or more. Unfortunately, we rarely have "extra" funds around to so suddenly pay down these kinds of things, either. They know that, too.

So all-too-quickly a person can find they've been hit with hundreds of dollars in fines. And then their vehicle gets towed, which adds a coupla' few hundred more to the bill. In effect, they've stolen your vehicle/home . . . and have seized everything you own in it, other than what you're happening to be carrying with you when they grabbed it all.

Typically all that stuff is quickly gone through and anything of real value stolen -- somehow. After all, who has any kind of reliable, current "inventory" documented/recorded officially enough to account for things? What's left can be retrieved, probably some distance away, but can mean actually scheduling an appointment to do so. If you have any means to get there and transport much out.

Then there's a daily "storage charge" for holding your rig hostage, on top of everything else. Naturally, most folks can't possibly pay all that, so the thing is sold off by The Powers That Be to pay themselves. Doesn't the public feel much safer and pleased to have city coffers boosted by these kinds of deals?

Voila! You're back on the streets, with next to nothing. Again. Which is increasingly illegal, in effect, too. Can't have any scofflaws, outlaws and criminals around here! OR folks just trying to get off the sidewalks and piece something back together again, step by painful step, as might be at all realistically and viably possible.

Easter Report

Not much to report, actually. It was another cold, rainy day -- dank in that way things get after a couple of these in a row.

Most of the street folks kept taking refuge under the usual biz awnings or in cafe's off and on.

A couple of "fair booth" structures were erected on an outdoor basketball court. I heard that a turkey meal was served out there at some point, but with next to nowhere to eat outa' the elements.

Some colored eggs from "the wingnut" breakfast were circulating around, or left on top of newspaper boxes and trashcans in soggy plastic shopping bags.

Toward the end of the night, a young couple were huddled together in the doorway of a corner shop. As I walked by to a nearby store, she boldly asked if they could sleep on my floor, as it was really wet out. Even "the homeless" don't always recognize who "the homeless" actually are.

That Slippery Slope

I bumped into a friend this morning and we talked for a spell. It's been awhile. Seems he's been going through some pretty rough times. Bad enough, that his whole scene has become a bit precarious. Wife left, business has been seriously down, taxes/debts have mounted, and his own state of being got strained, rattled and a lot less functional. That puts all that's left at real risk.

I watched another friend go through this about a year ago. Lost his job. His marriage broke up, with unfortunate effects. Lost his home. Lost a lot of belongings. Etc. As it became more obvious to me that he was heading toward that same kind of circumstantial precipice that I'd gone over the year before, I began to try to help him face things. To act. To prepare. To take fuller advantage of remaining time, resources and options, both to stave off and minimize the losses and damaging effects and to avail all he still did have to work with to maximize his options and best interests.

It didn't work too well. He dove into "denial", delay and kind of froze like the proverbial deer in the headlights. He just wouldn't take, or even allow, the proffered - and then urged - help. So he took a pretty steep and disorienting tumble, when he did reach that inescapable point when it all collapses.

Tbis morning's friend has recently been jolting out of that same kind of fraying demise, instead trying to  deal with and manage the jangling sense of alarm and confusing, anxious wheel spinning that's a fairly common kind of reaction. I got a booby prize of credit to help "inspire" him, as he credits me with an example of "strength" as he's seen me endure and grapple with a much worse version than he's yet had to.

Well, okay. A silk purse effect out of my sow's ear of hardship? Fine enough.

Such stumbles and fumbles have really been going around these past couple of years. I see others in various stages and phases. And do what I can -- from here. It isn't near what I used to be able to. But it's a hard-won stance and "example." One that can really drive some points home.

Last year, I'd asked this friend if I might arrange with him to perhaps take a shower now and then. He marginally agreed but made some excuses at the time, and we both sidestepped discomforts by not bringing it up again. Instead, we swapped some other small practical favors from time to time. Now he needs some of my help. And he's a LOT more amenable to my needs.

Such is the nature of "shared" misfortunates. Hard won lessons, all  around.