Utah Pirate Radio

I just finished reading a wonderful post by a person that normally I don’t care much for.

Reading his post  Materialism in a Spiritual World.  I have to admit, that is one well put message.

Often I have a problem with something that I read by this person.
But this message is very transparent, and well put.  I recommend it to anyone.

Reading this today, got me thinking about some personal flaws that I would like to change about myself.

At one time in my life I was homeless.  Meaning, I was without a home.  80% of the time between the age of 16 on to nearly 20 years old, I didn’t have an actual roof over my head at night.

I either slept at friends houses, in their parents old broke down cars, or somewhere in the mountains or on the street.

I first ran away when I was 13 years old, meaning like I was dedicated to the cause and I was not coming home. I had ran away a dozen times before that, but not with much intent or at least without a great plan of sustaining myself.  I walked 12 miles to my grandma’s house on the old highway between Mapleton and Payson via Spanish Fork.

I used to walk there just to visit her before I ran away. So this journey was typical.

I remember walking there and wondering what I would do if grandma told me that she couldn’t keep me.  I wondered if maybe the cops were already there and waiting for me.  I wondered about what I was going to do if I couldn’t stay with her, and I panicked.  I thought, I will go to California or Las Vegas or Seattle and I will just do my own thing.

By the time I was 16 after endless fighting, I was ready.  I wanted to go.   I wanted to be kicked out.  I wanted to just live my own life by myself.  I had friends who were stoners, and prior to being 15 I would drink but I absolutely would not smoke dope.  I think I was scared of it.  I just didn’t want it.  Not even so much as pot.  But I drank like a fish if I would let myself get out of control.

Eventually, by the time I was 16, I had been smoking cigarettes since I was 8 years old.  So I decided what the heck, I will smoke some herb too.  Which I knew would make it easier overall to live with my cousin and her friend.

Eventually, I started getting labor jobs, and living with (my cousin and her boyfriend).  I smoked pot daily, although I never really paid for it back then.  It was a thing that my friends did before I met them, and it was something that they were going to continue to do.  And I thought they were cool enough kids so I started smoking with them, living with them, working with them.  For off and on of about 3 years. I enjoyed smoking very much. Took some of the pressure off without making me feel out of control like alcohol did.

I rarely went home, and I rarely got a long with my folks.
I always wanted to find a way to PROVE to my parents beyond a reasonable doubt, that I wasn’t better than ‘these types of friends’.

All of these kids which were much older than me, but that I got a long with much better than my peers at school.

But it was always “these types of friends this or that”  or whatever the arguement at the time was.

So I just left.

At 17 I ended up in Seattle, when I got off the bus I literally had 3 cents in my pocket.

I had another valuable thing in my pocket that I didn’t realize how valuable it really was.  I had my wallet, which had ID and some basic survival necessities, such as dental floss and a small blade.

I lost my wallet two times while on the street.  Once when I got robbed while I was sleeping under a bridge, and once when I was sleeping in a little man-made cave that I put together out of rocks when I was in Spokane WA, I looked all over the mountain side for it and came back years later to look.  Never found it!  Arrrg!

Losing your wallet while your homeless does one of two things.

1.  Makes life really hard to deal with, and makes you stronger in the process.

2.  Or it kills you quick.

With the way homeless people are so transient, life can be difficult when you show up in a new place without identification.

If someone is homeless, and they are on some kind of medication, or get some sort of health care provisions and they lose their ID and go to a new place before getting new ID.   When they get to the new place, it is extremely difficult to get an ID, because 1.  You don’t have a place of residence.  2.  You have no way of proving who you are.  3.  There is no one near by to help you in most cases.

So that was some scary stuff, even though my life didn’t depend on my ID.  It does make getting adjusted to a new place extremely difficult.  I went from Seattle to Santa Cruz in 1998.  I had no ID, but I was able to talk my parents in to buying me a bus ticket from Portland to Santa Cruz.

So I didn’t have to hitch-hike quite as far.  It was Christmas, and I would call up my parents with “I love you very much”.  Even though we didn’t get a long very well, my dad would say  “come home for Christmas”, but I think we both knew that would cause more trouble than good.  So I decided not to.

So in Santa Cruz I went to a hippie party, which is referred to as a “Rainbow Gathering” (not anything like a Rainbow Parade for homosexuals).  Where we camped on the beach for 3 weeks.  One night after drinking excessively I met a girl who wanted to walk on fire.  And big bad me saw this, and said. ” If anyone can do it, I can do it.  So if I can do it, and don’t get hurt, then you know.  If I do it and I do get hurt, then you know.”
This was my act of Chivelry I suppose.

Well, it backfired and I ended up with 3rd and 2nd degree burns on my feet and with sand in the wounds.  (Once again, one too many drinks)

So I got this guy from the party to give me a ride in the back of his truck to the nearest medical facility.  I got bandaged up and I got back to my comfy spote by the River in Santa Cruz.  Where there were Ucalyptus and grass, and all kinds of shade.  And I hung out for like 2 days on what remaining food I had, which was basically Ramen, which I ate dry, and some bottled water that I picked up.

Even though I wasn’t fully recovered I had to get up and get going again, because I couldn’t heal in Santa Cruz because I didn’t know anyone there.

Since I was completely out of cash, and I was hurt really bad, on the worst place that I could be hurt and be homeless at the same time.  The only thing that was protecting me from the dirty, wornout, probably infectious soul in my shoe was a thin piece of bandage, and a new clean sock that I got from the doctor.  This particular doctor didn’t charge me up front, and actually didn’t even ask for my ID.
But took my information on a form, and gave me medical care anyway. I gave them correct information, and they put it on my credit. But, if it would have been the typical doctor office, they would have turned me down, and sometimes hospitals will turn you down without ID.
One foot was really bad, and the other foot was not so bad.

Needless to say, I didn’t get the date with that girl.  But it was a valiant effort anyway.

And I will end with the memory lane right there, and that isn’t even the half of it.  There was still almost 2 years left of this crazy lifestyle.

Anyway, after all of this, being poor, hurt, homeless, lonely, whatever.  I end up getting off the streets and into a new life.  When it happened I was in a serious religious turning point in my life, and a new spiritual awakening, and I gave credit to my strength to all of the spiritual associations.  And rightly so for the most part.

And I got on with life so to speak.  I got my GED while I was living in my man-made rock cave while I was in Spokane Wa.  And I went on to getting a computer diplomia from Stevens Heneger  (I couldn’t hack doing the 2 year course for an associates, not my thing, and flunky college)..

I got married, started a little business, etc..

Now that I can look back and compare the successful life to the poor life.  I have to say they have their advantages, and they have their disadvantages.  Overall, I don’t like being poor. 
But Thotman is right in his message about their being more money and less time, and less money and more time.

Out of those two, I think that time is far more valuable than money.

So here is what I have to feel guilty about.  My mom came to visit me some time ago, and she wanted to see Seattle, and I wanted to show her all the places that I usesd to hang out when I was a kid, because she had never seen it before.

So we go to downtown Seattle.  And my mom starts handing out money.  It was starting to get like the homeless people were recognizing us, and become way more friendly with us as we passed by.  I told her, “mom, some of these people are capable of working, and I just finding an excuse to prolong their drug habit, like I once did”.

My mom has a big heart and said “Even so, if they are happier isn’t that at least something”.

I said, I think in the long run, they won’t be happier because of this money.  Maybe more addicted.
So I showed her 2 of the many places that homeless people can go to get food/blankets/socks/cloths/sack lunches, etc..

And she stopped.  The sad part is, when she stopped giving them money, she wasn’t very happy.  I could tell immediately that something was different.
She really wants to do good, and take care of people.  I should respect that, and let her spend her money however she wants, without me getting in the way.

I realize this now, and I wish I had stepped back from her and let her give money.

She was always sweet that way with me when I was homeless.  They didn’t have a lot of money, but they would sent me what they could when they could so that I was ‘happy even if just for now’.

I’ve felt kind of ashamed of stopping her after that.  Especially when my wife reminded me of the dozens of times that I have ventured down to downtown Seattle with no other quest than to buy some homeless people some meals.  Of all ages and types.

I remembered how good it made me feel when I would give that way….
I was kind of getting worried for her safety, but thats no excuse since i was right there to protect her if she needed it.

Would’ve, could’ve of, should’ve…  Hinds sight is 20/20. bla bla bla

Anyway, thanks Thot for the inspiration.  That whole thing about me holding out on the homeless when my mom came to see us has been haunting me.  I think it’s cool that you help out people in need.