Tags
economy, Homelessness, Iraq war, Iraq's Nuclear Weapons, panhandling, poverty, unemployement, veterans
This essay wrote itself in my head one winter morning. It reflects back to the theme of my last post, Homeless in America.
This is my job. You don’t think it’s a job? You think I’m just lazy because I stand on the corner, clutching my crumpled cardboard sign between frozen paws with long, jagged, dirt-rimmed fingernails? You think I’m too lazy, too stupid to fill out a job application, buff out my resume, traipse to one business after another, pleading for some position—any position? Maybe my downcast eyes, my rags, make you uncomfortable.Maybe you’re afraid to look at me—afraid of the silent accusation of your own feelings.
Maybe you suspect that my buddy in the wheelchair on the next corner is just using that chair to solicit sympathy from suckers. Maybe you think if you gave me a dollar I’d waste it on booze or cigarettes instead of food and a shower. Maybe you think if I’d made better choices, I wouldn’t be here. Maybe you think if you were me, you’d be anywhere but here. Maybe you think you are better than me in your shiny new car with leather seats, talk-radio, and a car payment that could keep a roof over my head for six months. Let me tell you what you don’t know: You don’t know that I followed all the rules. You don’t know that I labored through high school—moving pipe and bucking hay. You don’t know that I escorted the class queen to prom—yeah, we looked good: she in a strapless maroon gown with the pink corsage, me in a maroon suit, shiny black shoes, and boutonniere clipped to my lapel. You don’t know that two months later, I marched to Pomp and Circumstance with stars in my eyes and visions of a Marine uniform and a college diploma. You don’t know that I enlisted, worked my way through college, then paid my dues—over there, in the desert. You don’t know that after four years in-country, I came home missing one eye and half my heart. You don’t know that I pulled myself together, put that college degree to work, landed my dream job. You don’t know that I married, had babies, a wife, a house, a garden, two cars and a boat in the garage. You don’t know that I sat in a cubicle crunching numbers and making decisions. You don’t know that I was your boss. You don’t know that I was given false numbers to crunch—just like GW’s false information about the nukes. You don’t know that my job blew up like an IED blowing to life under a tank. You don’t know how it felt, walking through the double glass doors to find my personal possessions in a box along with a check enclosed in an envelope stamped: “Good luck.” Maybe you don’t want to know that the guy on the other corner lost his leg defending the oil that powers your shiny car. Maybe you don’t want to know how many job apps I have filled out. Maybe you don’t want to know that my wife and my babies found a guy who still has his dream job. Maybe you don’t want to know how it feels to curl up under a holey sleeping bag while snow bleaches my existence and passersby stare. Maybe you don’t want to know how hard it is to find a place to take a shit and a shower. Maybe you don’t want to know that, of all the jobs I’ve had, standing on a street corner clenching a sign and grinding my teeth is the hardest job I’ve ever had. Maybe you don’t want to know anything about my 24/7 job.
The embedded video contains old stats, but makes good points:
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p style=”text-align:center;”>Video courtesy What About Now
John said:
This is a powerful and enlightened piece of writing.
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rangewriter said:
Thanks, John. I value your opinion.
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Playamart - Zeebra Designs said:
beautiful; thank you so much; it’s time i tell about ‘maestro gabriel’ in nicaragua…
w/the slow internet, it’s all i can do to comment!
z
________________________________
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rangewriter said:
Considering your internet issues, any exchange with you feels like a nugget of gold. Thanks!
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Playamart - Zeebra Designs said:
i spent last night in town, and it’s so nice this morning to reply to a comment, hit ‘reply,’ and – POOF!- like magic, the reply magically vanishes into cyberspace!
yippee!!!
have a great day, amiga!
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btg5885 said:
Linda, great job. People who “have” make assumptions about those who “have not” based on a few anecdotes. I surprised yet another person this morning talking about the heads of our homeless families (who we help) have jobs and yet still found themselves homeless. We work with teacher assistants, pre-K teachers, bus drivers, retail clerks, call center people, etc. who find themselves homeless. Thanks for painting this picture. Take care, BTG
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rangewriter said:
Yeah, it’s unbelievable the pushback against raising the minimum wage. Truly, unbelievable. Even with the proposed raises, I think most of the families you speak of would struggle to stay afloat.
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Glenda Hornig said:
What an eye opener!! And yes, I’m guilty of several of the “maybe you thinks” Thanks, I hope I can look at these folks with different eyes and do some small things to help.
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rangewriter said:
THanks, Glenda. I think we’ve all had to fight the urge to prejudge and to assume that which we don’t know. There’s that old adage about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes… Even though I know better, I still find myself making silent assumptions, which is probably why I was moved to write this.
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bronxboy55 said:
Linda, I don’t know if this is the best thing you’ve ever written, but it’s one of the best things I’ve ever read.
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rangewriter said:
Wow, Charles, my most humble thanks. It’s the kind of thing one never knows how it will be received.
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Arindam said:
Linda, this is one of your most powerful and soulful writings I have ever read. Excellent!!
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rangewriter said:
Thanks Arindam. And to think I almost didn’t publish it because I thought it didn’t do justice to what was in my heart. I’m glad you think it did.
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reneejohnsonwrites said:
It is so easy to go about our lives oblivious to all the ‘what ifs’ of other people’s pains and disappointments and failures and set-backs. I just watched a show about the underground tunnels in Las Vegas and the homeless risking their lives as flood waters pour through. One was a poet. He painted his musings on the tunnel’s underbelly the way we might scribble in a journal or on our blogs. This is a very powerful post Linda. I’m going to share it.
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rangewriter said:
Thanks for sharing, Renee. During the 2 week splurge of opulence that bookended the Olympic games, it’s hard not to think of the contrasts between poverty and conspicuous and frivolous spending. It’s not a phenomenon that is unique to the US, but it seems more egregious here.
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George Weaver said:
Ah, Linda, people don’t know because they don’t want to know. Knowledge demands responsibility. Nobody lives on the street by choice. As a social worker, I never met a person who didn’t have to live on the street. We have to change the way we view our fellow humans, I think. Sad.
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rangewriter said:
Knowledge demands responsibility. Ouch. It’s so true. Collectively, we are all responsible, but not all doing our share. Me included.
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Sandra Parsons said:
It is one of these automatic reactions of self-preservation: I see a beggar and clutch my purse. It’s not that I couldn’t afford to help, it’s the “I can’t possibly help each and everyone of them, so where to draw the line”. And yes, sometimes suspicions enter the stage as well like “Did he really do what he could to avoid this situation?”
This is a beautiful piece, Linda, and it hits uncomfortably close to home. The hallmark of real art, in my humble opinion!
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rangewriter said:
You’re kind to say such positive things.
I think we all suffer from automatic reflexes. And it’s odd that in the same pocket with the suspicions, we also carry the guilt for not being able to help and not knowing how or who to help. And I feel guilty for rambling with empty words rather than lifting a cold, sleepy person off a bench and taking them home for a nice hot shower and breakfast, which would have been much more meaningful…and a lot harder.
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Sandra Parsons said:
Oh, PS: Do you know Lurch closer? I love the photograph, it shows so much of his personality!
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rangewriter said:
I did a post about Lurch about a year ago: http://wp.me/p1JnwK-32 I still see him occasionally, usually on his way to the library or sitting quietly somewhere, reading a book.
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