Humanity: Grains of Sand or a Beautiful Beach?

I went to the beach yesterday with my white husband. We loaded up the car and stopped at the gas station to fill the tank and buy some drinks. The black cashier told my white husband about a special two for one deal, so we were really able to stock up. What a helpful black cashier!

We went to pick up my white daughter and her black fiancée, and my two bi-racial grandchildren. My bi-racial grandson was so excited to go to the beach for the first time! We almost regretted picking them up first, in retrospect, as it would have made more sense to pick up our Asian friend first, to keep the bi-racial kids car ride a bit shorter.

When we stopped to pick up our Asian friend, we decided to stop for breakfast. The Hispanic server was so sweet! She fussed over the bi-racial kids and my bi-racial grandson loved the crayons the Hispanic server let him use. Our Asian friend thought she was pretty cute, but she already had a white boyfriend, so he didn't pursue her.

We had decided to meet my gay white sister-in-law at the beach to save time. Her native American girlfriend had the cutest bathing suit I've ever seen! She bought it from a Hispanic Asian man who had recently opened a new store in her Jewish community. Maybe next year I'll look there for a new suit.

What's my point?

Personally, I'm tired of today's media manipulating and promoting racism in today's United States. Horrible comments about a Cheerio commercial, Paula Deen, Kanye West, racist rap music, gay bashing everywhere you look. This tit for tat attitude is draining our society and needs to be put into proper prospective.

Why?

When you look on Facebook, there is no shortage of posts: "oh yea, well this one said this, and this one said that!" Perpetuation of hate in any form is just hurtful. Two wrongs don't make a right. Be the bigger person. Put yourself in someone else's shoes. Just stop joining in.

One thing most people eventually learn, if they are willing to accept it, is there are good and bad people throughout the world. They come in all sizes, colors, religions and ethnicity's. Genetics really has little to do with it. How someone chooses to live their life by both thought and actions is a personal decision. Stop the hate, or perpetuate. The choice is yours.

Racism, sexism, and the hatred of someone due to their sexual orientation is a snap judgment of people. Why waste your time and energy responding to something if it really has nothing to do with you? If most people hadn't turned on the television or heard the latest media-induced racial rant on the radio, would people like Paula Deen and Kanye West really impact their life? Probably not. They have both said inappropriate comments. Here is the good news: Everyone can turn them off! Unless they are related to you, you don't ever, ever have to listen to them again! No one will force will you to buy Paula's cookbooks and pans! You don't have to listen to Kanye's music...I'm guessing there is a dial on that radio and you can make him go away with a slight flick of the wrist!

I only wrote this because I am so tired of hearing and reading about hatred. Yes, it brings in money for the media, but since I really do have black, white, bi-racial, Asian, Hispanic, Jewish, gay, and Native American people in my life who I care about, I choose not to let the media fill my emotions with negativity. This is how I'd rather live my life:


I went to the beach yesterday with my husband. We loaded up the car and stopped at the gas station to fill the tank and buy some drinks. The cashier told my husband about a special two for one deal, so we were really able to stock up. What a helpful cashier!

We went to pick up my daughter and her fiancée, and my two grandchildren. My grandson was so excited to go to the beach for the first time! We almost regretted picking them up first, in retrospect, as it would have made more sense to pick up our friend first, to keep the kids car ride a bit shorter.

When we stopped to pick up our friend, we decided to stop for breakfast. The server was so sweet! She fussed over the kids and my grandson loved the crayons the server let him use. Our friend thought she was pretty cute, but she already had a boyfriend, so he didn't pursue her.

We had decided to meet my sister-in-law at the beach to save time. Her girlfriend had the cutest bathing suit I've ever seen! She bought it from a man who had recently opened a new store in her community. Maybe next year I'll look there for a new suit.

If you see us at the beach, pull up a chair and enjoy the sunset. We always have room to welcome a new friend.

In Honor of the American Service Member

Today is Memorial Day.

Why? What makes a veteran different from other folks?

Growing up in a family surrounded by veterans from both World Wars, Korea, Vietnam and every conflict in between, I was raised to respect the sacrifices made by these ordinary but amazing people. If you ever take the time to put politics aside, you begin to learn that some veterans are such amazing people, it humbles your soul.

With that said, I dedicate this entry to Frank, my sister,' father in law and World War II veteran.

Frank served in the Army in Germany during the war. He was a foot soldier, saw combat and was fortunate enough to survive the war. Many of his friends did not.

Most veterans who served in combat don't sit around and share the details of what they have experienced. Thankfully, there are American Legion posts, VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) posts and other clubs that have been formed over the years where these service members can meet and support one another. The average person cannot relate to what they have experienced. Typically, most members of these clubs love the camaraderie they have, but wish they didn't have the shared experiences necessary to be a member.

Frank has always been a good, proud man. He loves his family, is active in his church and veterans groups, kind to strangers, keeps his lawn beautiful.  He cooks, cleans, and knows the importance of caring about one's community. He's lived in the same house for 50 or 60 years now and maintains it as well today as he did when he moved in.

When his beloved wife passed away a few years ago, he put all of his energies into his local veterans post. He visits the other veterans at home or in the hospital when they are sick, stays active with fundraisers and membership drives. He has served as chaplain and is currently, at age 83, on honor guard. Honor guard are the fine men who attend military funerals and perform the 21 gun salute. Frank will tell you that it's both an honor and a privilege to provide this final tribute to these amazing military members. It's hard for many to understand, but there is no personal gain in honor guard. Each and every service member funeral they attend is a privilege for them to participate in, to honor a military brother or sister they may have or may not have personally known one last time.

One more thing about Frank. A few months back, he was having a hard time swallowing. Upon closer examination, a mass was found and he has since been undergoing chemo treatment. He has his good days, and his bad. Some days they've had to postpone treatment due to other medical issues, and today, for a Memorial Day tribute, he is supposed to participate as honor guard. He's a bit weakened from the chemo but has always participated in this recognition of those who have fallen.

I spoke to my sister this morning and she told me Frank is indeed going. She and her husband offered to drive Frank all the way to the guard detail and drop him off with the rest of the group. His reply to the half mile trek? "I think I can make it." You see, Frank doesn't do this for himself
, he does it for those he has served with and those he didn't know, but made the ultimate sacrifice. Today, Frank will put aside his own discomfort, his own needs, and only remember those that have fallen. He will once again honor and remember those who served, but are now gone.

Around the country today, there will be other silent Franks out there. While we gobble our hot dogs and enjoy our corn on the cob, please take a moment to thank a veteran, make a donation, or simply honor by remembering those who have fought for all of us, and the sacrifices some of them still make out of love for this country and all it stands for.

To all veterans of war and peace time, thank you for your many sacrifices. May God be with each and every one of you.

The Homeless Experience Part Three

*This is the third and final entry of a three part series.

When we returned from the convenience store, Lee carefully separated the beer and cigarettes, placing each person's purchase into a bag along with any change owed them.

Lee, Shane and I again sat in the chairs and enjoyed a little general conversation while we waited for Deano and James to come and get their purchases. As Deano approached, a feeling of sadness and empathy came over me. His thin body looked so stiff and broken in his layers of clothing, I couldn't help but wonder what his level of discomfort must be when the nights were really cold. Given his slower gait, it was easy to assume at least a small degree of arthritis must affect him. He hadn't complained even once about his circumstances, but earlier in the day he had shocked me when he revealed his age as 56. He looked at least 10 years older.

James left the corner where he had been panhandling, approached the group to gather his things, and announced he was going to "go over and play the lottery before it was too late".
I am embarrassed to admit this, but there was a critical side of me wondering which unsuspecting  person had given him the money he was about to waste on a lottery ticket. Let's face it, how many people actually win the lottery versus the amount of money they throw away on tickets? Wouldn't it be wiser to save the money for necessities like food? As much as I liked the guy, his choice really bothered me.

As James smiled and waved good-bye to everyone, I wished him well, and truly meant it. Thoughts of him actually winning the lottery intrigued me. In my head, I wondered, if he really did win, would he share this good fortune with the other men? Imaginary scenes of Deano, Lee and James sipping fancy drinks poolside came to mind. Funny thing was, I realized in this vision,  they all acted just as they had on the day I visited with them. The only thing different was their location and circumstance. It occurred to me then how ordinary these men really were, lives full of ups and downs, obstacles and dreams. They get up in the morning and go about their day same as you and me, with the only huge difference being the fact I have a permanent roof over my head to go home to each night. How on earth had I never realized I thought anything different?

Shortly after James left, it was also time for us to go. As I thanked Lee and Deano for chatting with me, Lee invited me back some day. "Hey, maybe next time you can fly a sign!" he laughed, referring to a time when Shane actually had stood on the corner with a sign inscribed "I want to understand", trying to absorb what the men felt. I smiled with the image but immediately my mind began to wonder what would happen if I really did stand on a corner with a homemade sign, asking for money? How would people react? Would a woman be met with compassion, cruelty, extortion or kindness? The thoughts of possible degradation made me shudder. Even though I hadn't met her, Lee's friend Jennifer came to mind. I decided I wanted to talk to a woman who lived on the streets and hear her story. So many reasons of why a female could be homeless filled my mind. How would she know who to trust? How does she stay safe? How heavy are the burdens she carries?

Shane drove me back to my car, parking behind it. He asked if I wanted to 'process the day'. As we chatted and shared some of the conversation I had with Deano, Shane commented he found it interesting how quickly the men had opened up to a woman, sharing some of their personal life experiences with a complete stranger. I believe part of their willingness to share so readily was due to my gender, but also realized in their eyes I was not a threat in any way because of their total trust in Shane. I was simply viewed as an extension of him. It suddenly occurred to me that I had never thought much about a homeless persons' need for sincere personal relationships.

As I digested thoughts about these men, these warm blooded, feeling, human beings, Shane lifted his hand and pointed out the window. "Look".
Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a mob of people, perhaps 15-20 running across the street in a mad frenzy. The scene looked like a smaller version of the news clips shown of WalMart's black Friday sales.
The people were bundled in heavy clothing, with some carrying bags, all hurrying in a frantic rush with arms flailing and legs pumping to stay at the front of the pack. They were all running toward a building about a city block up from us.
Completely stunned and confused, I asked "Oh my God, what's going on?"
"The Lottery" replied Shane.

He explained the reason James had left early was to put his name on the list for the Lottery. If you signed up, and were one of the first ones there by the cutoff time, you won the privilege of staying the night at the homeless shelter. First come, first serve. I guess on a cold winter's night it really is hitting the jackpot to have a warm cot, a stable shelter and a hot meal. It then dawned on me that not everyone was a winner.

I've taken a while to write this third entry partly because I cannot put into words the way this whole experience made me feel. Sad, embarrassed, angry, broken and hopeless are some of the words that come to mind. On so many levels, I wonder why homelessness even exists in our society, be it circumstantial or chosen.

One topic of conversation I had with Deano not discussed in any of my entries, is a harsh reality all homeless people face. They can't take advantage of any public assistance, because they don't have a physical street address. With the maze and conditions of financial penalty imposed by the Social Security Administration, even people entitled to Social Security or Disability oftentimes cannot fully utilize their benefits. This can leave them victim to extortion. This is a subject I'm researching and hope to share later because I find it very relevant to the resolution of homelessness. It's a disturbing thought to imagine the amount of people who may want a better situation, even willing to work for it, but have no means of ever getting the chance to help themselves. What a vicious, hopeless circle. It's easy to for people to say "well, they should have made better choices".
Can we always be so sure?

What I've come to realize is that by human nature, we judge anything that is different. Maybe not consciously, but it's there.
I personally thought I knew myself better. Having volunteered much of my adult life helping those less fortunate, I think subconsciously I believed I understood. Nope. No matter what, I can't understand why someone would accept living on the streets but I can accept them as a real person, regardless of their reasons and not judge. Their lifestyle may be different, but their basic human needs are the same as you and I.

After reading my other entries, my husband said "Aim, I'm sorry but I don't understand what the point of your story is."
I asked him "What do you think when you read it?".
He thought for a very long moment. "I don't know. It humanizes them, but I still don't know what you're trying to convey".

I appreciated his honesty.

I suddenly realized this isn't my story to tell. It's theirs, and if you take the time to pull up a chair and listen, you just might learn a thing or two, maybe even about yourself.


**For more information regarding the Social Security Administrations rules and regulations on serving those who are homeless, please visit http://www.socialsecurity.gov/homelessness/.

The Homeless Experience Part Two

Pictured left to right: Deano, Shane, and Lee

This is the second entry of a three part series I am writing about a recent visit with some homeless men in Richmond. In the first post I wrote about Deano, the displaced coal miner and broken hearted soul who had lost his beloved Ina.
This second entry will be mostly about Lee. A complex man in so many ways who initially unnerved me, but ultimately made me really think about the homeless in a whole new way.





As Deano appeared to withdraw into himself, the tallest man, Lee, came and sat down with us and began to talk.

With a sidelong glance at Deano, Lee's presence had a very strong vibe. He began to talk and it immediately became apparent the attention would now be on him. With a bit of what seemed like arrogance, I wasn't sure how I felt about this man.

Shane approached the small group and inquired about one of the handmade signs laying on the wood pile. With a skilled photographer's eye for detail, he noticed someone had taken the time to attach a piece of art canvas to the wood. "Who's the artist?" Shane asked.
"Me" replied Lee.
Shane acknowledged he knew Lee was skilled at metal and stone work, but not artwork. I noticed a slight, almost embarrassed smile from Lee and wondered at this very familiar type exchange between the two men. It was clear that Shane had taken the time to really get to know these men beyond the standard realm of tossing some loose change and perhaps dropping off some warm soup on a cold winter's night.

Lee said he recently lost his drivers licence due to a DUI. He admitted he had done some time in jail because of it. Something told me that this wasn't his first offense, but I chose not to pry.

As the conversation progressed, Lee shared that he had received an Associates Degree in Business, and had thoughts of returning to school in the hopes of  achieving a Bachelors Degree. The more he talked, the more he interested me. At first, I thought he was bending the truth a bit, but as the conversation progressed, it became evident that Lee really is a man with a great deal of intelligence and I began to wonder how different his life could be if only he had made some different choices.

During the course of our conversation, Lee relayed several stories about his life. Another admission he made was his severe anger management problem he had been forced to deal with. Several years ago, he participated in an intensive and progressive rehabilitation program, designed to help people address unacceptable behavioral issues. He said he ultimately spent three years in the program.
The people enrolled in this therapy were expected to know who the Team Leads were, Program Managers, Clinical workers, Therapists, which activities were required on what day, etc. He explained if a participant neglected to complete an assignment, or  memorize what you were required to know, the participant would be held accountable for this lapse in progress due to inadequate preparation. Lee said typically, for most of the individuals in this group, a negative, defensive behavior would then erupt, and the person would have consequences for this behavior. Once the person had their emotions under control, they would then have to implement ways to improve their responses to negative interactions. As a person progressed within the program, they would then be assigned more responsibility and assist other people who were enrolled. Lee explained many, many aspects of the program in great detail. Quite honestly, I was amazed at how well he articulated the entire process. I almost felt as if I were checking into the program and he was telling me what to expect.

When he finished describing the program, I asked him if he had ever thought about becoming a counselor, since he seemed so well versed in the program and he could speak from experience. He smiled, looked at me with those twinkly blue eyes and proceeded to tell me that during the course of the program, he became an expert at helping others to deal with their issues and progress through the program. However, he was approached by his own Team Leads and asked why he had aced this task of helping others, but when would he deal with his own behaviors?
By the gleam in his eye, I could see when he was asked that question, in that environment, the proverbial light bulb went off in his head. Lee began to address his own unacceptable behaviors.

Shortly after the conversation ended, he made mention of a dear friend of his, Jennifer. He assured me she was only a friend, but often certain people felt threatened by that friendship so they didn't see each other very much. I had the distinct feeling  the "certain people" might be Jennifer's boyfriend. For this reason, Lee did not see her very often because he didn't want any trouble to come of it for either one of them.

His affection toward Jennifer was very obvious. I got the feeling he felt a bit protective of her, but in a big brother sort of way. Once, he told me, when they stopped at a homeless center for a hot meal, they were told Jennifer could not enter. Both women and children were not allowed at that center, due to some issues that had happened in the past.
Lee was very upset that she was not allowed in. He was not willing to leave without saying something, as Jennifer was hungry and it was cold outside. Instead of becoming angry, he decided to calmly use the positive behaviors he had learned from the behavior modification classes and spoke with the head of the center. Lee lodged a formal complaint and explained to the Director the reasons he found the new rule unacceptable. He proudly stated that by using the skills he had learned in the behavior modification program and dealing with the problem in a positive manner, there was a chance that a new center, specific for women and children, might be in the works. It struck me that the majority of this pride was not for himself, but the thought of the end result of a need being fulfilled. Lee appeared to have a genuine concern regarding women living on the streets, with nowhere to go.

Shane decided it was time to drive to the store. As we entered the car, I insisted Lee take the front seat because his legs were much longer than mine. After a bit of a gentlemanly protest, we headed the few blocks to the convenience store.

Along the way, we passed an abandoned truck that clearly was not part of the normal landscape. Shane asked Lee how long it had been there. Lee replied "a few days".
That opened the conversation for a question I had been wanting to ask. "How safe do you feel living out here?"
Lee said overall he felt pretty safe. The group of men stay in pairs and all are fairly close by each other. He stated that some areas are safer than others and pointed to a store across the street. "See that store? A guy got killed there last week."

We turned left and pulled up to another convenience store. There were bars on the windows and it reminded me of my younger days when I would go to downtown Detroit. Even back then, those bars always intensified that feeling of a thug with a gun showing up at anytime.
Lee and I entered the store, and I handed Lee the $15 I had in my pocket. I asked him to get Deano's items and use the rest for whatever he needed. Earlier, I had asked Deano if I could buy his items for him, as a thank you for his hospitality and taking the time to talk with me. At first, he told me no, he didn't want anything from me. Touched by his genuineness, I explained that I knew he didn't expect anything, I just wanted to say thank you and that was the only way I knew how.

What happened next surprised me more than anything else had that day. Lee looked at me and said "Deano wants beer and cigarettes. Are you sure you want to buy those for him? I don't know how you feel about that."
Wow. Did not see a statement like that coming from a homeless guy.

I smiled and replied "yes, I know. Deano told me. Thank you, Lee."
As we walked to the cooler, Lee selected Deano's beer of choice. When he bent over to grab the bottle, a young man approached me, pointed to the camera hanging around my neck and said "nice camera". Without much thought, I replied "thank you."
A moment later, he stepped a little closer and said "no, I mean that's a REALLY nice camera."
Suddenly, as I looked in his eyes, I was transported back to Detroit, July 3, 1985, when I was with three friends in downtown Detroit to enjoy the fireworks. The guy I was walking with had refused to remove his gold necklace. He had several pendants hanging from the necklace and it stood out like a sore thumb. As we walked down a side street, there was a group of young men sitting along a stone wall, right above the sidewalk. Needless to say, I saw one of the young men focus in on my friend's neck, saw the intent in his eyes as he focused on the pendants and watched as he quickly leaned over and ripped the jewelery from his neck as he broke into a run down the street. A bit of a scuffle broke out as the pendants fell to the ground. It just wasn't a good night at all.
This man had the exact same look in his eyes as the mugger had.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I couldn't help but think "oh, shit".
As my heart started to pound, I looked him square back in the eyes and calmly and flatly said "and I said thanks."

Lee glanced at the quick exchange, stood up with the beer and the man walked away. He calmly glanced down at me, and said "yea, that IS a really nice camera with a great big logo on the front. People around here really LIKE to have nice cameras."
Feeling like a complete and utter fool for overlooking such a simple safety issue, I nodded my head sheepishly and moved in closer to Lee, using him to block the obvious view of my camera while we were in line. Standing there, it gave me an odd feeling that here I was, acutely aware that I was huddled against a virtual stranger, knowing he had both a criminal record and addiction problems, but yet feeling a sense of appreciation that he'd see me safely back to the car. It still blows my mind, quite honestly.

I don't think Lee thought too much more about the incident, but I suddenly hated that anyone would be be exposed to constant threats, and it simply becomes part of everyday life. Now I am even more curious about the homeless population and why it exists so prevalently in American society. Is it by choice, induced by mental illness? Do some people crave the hardships faced on the streets? If given the chance to start a "normal" life, how many homeless would be successful or even want to try?

When we returned, another man, James, came over and informed everyone he was off to enter the lottery. I wished him luck, silently wondered if he actually won would he extend his good fortune to his homeless friends or just disappear into the sunset.

 Little did I know what the lottery really meant.


*The next entry will be my final entry. I will explain what the lottery is and what I really learned in a few hours that day.

The Homeless Experience Part One

I awoke this morning with my mind racing. I had the chance to experience something quite different yesterday and my mind is now flooded with conflicting thoughts. At this point, I'm not even sure what all of these thoughts are because in true "fate and circumstance" form, things don't always happen as we plan.

A few weeks ago, I asked my Photography Instructor, Shane, if he knew of any photographic artists in the area who would allow me to shadow them. Still unsure of what I plan to pursue in the future, it was my intent to strictly observe what a photographic artist "does". I was pleasantly surprised when he offered to allow me to shadow him, as I knew he had been working on a project with some homeless men for some time. He did advise me however, when he spends time with these men, he does what they do and completely interacts with them. I thought for a second and decided this intrigued me on several levels. Grateful for the opportunity to observe him as an artist, the offer was quickly accepted.

As the "Project" day came closer, I sent Shane an email asking if any of the men would let me interview them. What better material could I have for my blog, given the subject? He simply replied "I'm sure that can be arranged."

With Saturday quickly approaching, I started to wonder what to ask these men. Would they be nice? Insane? Aloof? How should I approach them? Would they be truthful? Why the heck am I doing this?

Driving through the city, I suddenly became aware of quite a few people on the streets. Not just people, but people who were wearing old, worn coats, perhaps shuffling, meandering, or even limping down the street with no apparent destination in mind, and no sense of urgency to get there. Most were alone, but sometimes there would be two or more people in a group. Was everyone wearing a hood, gloves and worn coat homeless? Were they waiting for a bus, or perhaps sitting on the curb in public view for safety reasons? Knowing that some people do consciously make the decision to live on the streets, I kept wondering why on earth a person would intentionally choose this life. I also became acutely curious as to how large the homeless population is in Richmond and how many of those people wished and worked toward a better life.

When I arrived at Shane's apartment, he offered me a cup of coffee. While he loaded his camera gear, he asked what I hoped to get from this. In a very long, drawn out version, I essentially explained to both him and myself that I had no idea. While my original intent was to strictly observe the photographer, I also realized the human aspect of interacting with these people who live in such a different world from "the norm", was pulling my brain in a much different direction. In that moment, I decided to just go along for the ride, fate would dictate my afternoon. Either way, I was strictly an observer.

As we drove down a side street, there stood a man on the corner, holding a sign. Just as we approached the corner, Shane pulled into an opening, up on the grass. He began to point people out: "That's James over there, and that's Deano. He's a really sweet guy." Immediately, the shorter, big guy approached. "Hey Shane!", obvious fondness twinkling in his eye. After a brief exchange, Shane introduced me to James and explained I was there to observe and interview, if that was okay. He asked if any of the guys would maybe be willing to talk to me. James mumbled the guys would always be willing to talk to a woman "specially that looks like that". I couldn't help but begin to laugh at the familiar, off handed type of compliment I grew up around. It was meant to be kind and I hadn't heard a line like that since I worked in the skilled nursing facility and hung out "with the guys". It was even funnier since I had on my grungiest of jeans, no makeup, and an old, raunchy coat. I immediately relaxed from his gentle humor and was appreciative of the warm welcoming.

While we walked the few steps towards a make shift sitting area in front of some brush, Shane quietly informed me he had never brought a woman there, and he was a little worried, as he didn't know what to expect. Quickly I uttered "don't worry, I'm fine", and really meant it. In an odd way, as I looked at these older men, I felt a strange sense of familiarity. I immediately thought of my great uncles and all of my buddies at Silver Lake, men who had done great things and  men who had also fallen on hard times. Suddenly, I had the overwhelming sense to talk, but more than anything, I hoped they would be willing to share their stories so I could listen and learn.

In front of the brush pile, atop greasy black dirt littered with bottle caps, small pieces of plastic, and other various debris, sat an older man surrounded by a variety of chairs ranging from broken white plastic lawn chairs, to two old padded, floral designed kitchen chairs. The older man was introduced to me as Deano. He held out his gloved hand and gave a warm, welcoming smile. His bright green eyes glistened with warmth and friendliness in a very surprising manner. Again, I felt oddly comfortable. As Deano offered me a seat, he quickly stopped me before I sat on one of the padded seats. It had rained that morning and he didn't want me to sit in a wet chair. He looked for something to use as a moisture barrier for the chair, but I chose to sit diagonal from him in one of the white plastic chairs. I tried to not call attention to the cold that permeated my skin when I sat down and tried to look around nonchalantly.

Behind Deano sat a piling of an assortment of wood. Atop the wood were two pair of boots. Later in the day, Shane would ask Deano "whose boots are those?". His response? "Anybody's."

Deano's steady gaze was anything but threatening. His intent to put me at ease was obvious. With a smile, he noticed the "Genesis Health Care" emblem on my old coat. "Oh, your a health care worker?" he half stated, half asked. The thought seemed to please him. I told him "No, that was a long time ago. I worked in a skilled nursing facility about 8 years ago."

 He started to tell me about his own stay at a hospital. I'm not sure how long ago it happened, but the experience definitely impacted him greatly. The story itself was a little fractured, as he explained how his case worker informed him he was "very sick". He shared how there was a heated exchange between he and the case worker, resulting in the case worker slamming his hands on a desk in exasperation and warning Deano he was "a very sick man, and you either go to the hospital willingly or with the police".
 Deano ultimately spent 6 to 10 days in the hospital. He said they treated him very well, fed him and were nice to him. However, the staff advised him not to get out of bed by himself, because he was a fall risk. With half a mischievous grin, Deano revealed to me how the aides caught him in the shower after warning him and promptly hauled him out, slapped a "FALL RISK" bracelet on him and warned him not to do it again. He then put an erect index finger next to the side of his head, and rotated it to demonstrate the words "I was out of my head then. You know, I kind of lost it".
With a sheepish look, I assumed he might be embarrassed by revealing this. "Are you feeling okay now?"
 He nodded his head. I asked him where he came from originally and he said "West Virginia".
He  had been a coal miner but the work dried up. I then told him that my Grandfather's side of the family had been Pennsylvania coal miners. He was shocked to hear my great grandfather lived to be over 90 years old with no evidence of black lung. It wasn't until much later in the day I realized the real reason Deano kept getting up and moving away was to clear his own lungs.

As we sat to talk some more, Deano told me after he left West Virginia, he moved to Kentucky. A warm grin graced his face and he smiled as he was transported to a happier time. His eyes softened, he tilted his face toward the sky, and he began to share his story about his beloved Ina.

Ina was 5 years older that Deano, but that didn't matter to him. He loved her tremendously, and had every intention of marrying her. He told me that they were close. "REALLY close" he emphasised several times. He was so happy when he was with her, they always had fun and could really rely on each other. After a few moments of reminiscing, he looked me in the eyes again and said "four days before my birthday, my birthday is in April, four days before, she got killed." Flat. Sad. Hopeless. End of story. Deano's head dropped and he he said "I really loved Ina". He again lifted his head and smiled but I knew he was transported to another time, another place, a juxtaposisiton of love and hurt.

The twinkle in his eyes drained and I saw a closing of himself. He looked down, excused himself and I watched him slowly and painfully walk over toward the pile of wood and grab his sign. He then crossed the road and began to panhandle.

Dieano talked to me again later in the day, but the twinkle in his eye was gone. What replaced it almost gave an inclination of vacancy. What is behind that vacancy, I can only speculate but I feel fortunate that he took the time to talk to me. It did not escape me that at one point during my conversation with Deano, a non-homeless man appeared and when he sat down, Lee, one of the homeless men Shane knows, came over and joined the group. He appeared a little gruff, perhaps irritated and I was unsure why.

Lee bears a strong resemblance to someone I lost recently, right down to the loud voice and twinkly blue eyes. Almost immediately, Lee made it apparent he did indeed possess a good deal of intelligence. Most definitely a strong personality, and this made me a little nervous.

At one point, someone in the group declared the need for a smoke and beer run. Shane offered a ride to the store, and when the three of us approached the car, Lee immediately went toward the back seat. I told him to take the front, noting his legs were much longer than mine. Only after Shane insisted did Lee take the front seat. Once again, the old fashioned manners and gentlemanly behavior piqued my interest with this group of displaced men.

Once we left the "camp" and started the drive to the store, Lee started to talk some more. When Shane asked about an abandoned truck not far from their tent, I asked Lee how he safe he felt living on the streets. He started to talk and in no time flat, I was reminded why you never show fear on the streets.

I plan on sharing my story about Lee in my next entry. Things that he told me, the five minutes in the convenience store, and his general attitude all surprised me. Funny how a few hours can have such a profound effect on a person.

The Pack Rat

My daughter and grandson moved out about a month ago. They didn't move very far away but I admittedly started feeling the depression of empty nest syndrome and a strong sense of both uselessness and a loss of what to do. I mean literally, I had no idea what to do with all of this new found time on my hands!

This past weekend I decided to get my house in order. Okay, more truthfully, my house is not in "do it in a weekend" condition. I'm a putter-offer of projects and a notorious saver of "stuff". Pictures, drawings, baby clothes and toys, books, cards and off the wall wacky things that I've been given over the years by friends and family.

For a very long time, I couldn't bring myself to toss something because the person who gave it to me had passed on or maybe because I don't get to see them that often and by having the item, it made me feel a connection or remember a happy time with them. There was also the excuse "I can't toss something this perfectly good, someone can use it!" 

Like many people, I'm taking the attitude of New Year, New Me. Out with the old, cluttered, messy lifestyle with stuff popping out of every closet, drawer and cupboard!

I sit back and envision neatness and calm. Things match and everything is in it's place. Dust bunnies are exterminated. Prayers are no longer mandatory when opening closets in the hopes of avoiding a avalanche. Ahhhh, sweet organization!

So far, I cleaned out and painted my daughter's old bathroom. I really was happy pulling down Hello Kitty and rolling beige paint over the bubble gum pink walls. Every once in a while I'd feel a twinge of sadness and regret and even contemplated saving a few Kitty memento's, but then I would look at all the make-up, barrettes and heaven knows what else shoved under the sink. I  pulled out globs of hair, a nail trimmer and even a hair clip from the drain. Yuck. Buh-bye Kitty!

The next attack was the front hall closet. I found out there is a floor in there under the pile of shoes, dog toys, dog clothes, kid's toys, outerwear, purses and the like. I found my kite I've had for at least 10 years still in the package. I love flying kites and now that I've found it and won't be spending as much time cleaning, I'll take my grandson to the park in the spring and let him try. Then we can go to Carraba's and use the $30 gift card I found in one of the old purses.

Right now I'm in the "bonus room" which became known as the local McVaugh dump station. You name it, it's in there. Rugs, a couch, dressers galore, books, books, and more books (which never get read because I'm always busy cleaning) toys, enough clothes to dress 200 people (half of them I don't even know where they came from!), snorkeling gear, all of my Disney guides along with all of my photo's and the list goes on.

With each room I feel a sense of accomplishment. All of the Christmas items are now neatly stored in a closet in one of the bedrooms. As I find other Christmas items in odd places, they are immediately taken up to be organized with the others.

The bonus room still looks like a hoarders dream but the piles are organized with intent. It's either a keeper and usable or it will be taken to Goodwill. Maybe I'll try my hand selling something on ebay. Either way, it's outta here!

As strange as this sounds, I'm a little nervous of what to expect when this project is finished. I mean really, what will I do with my extra time? It made me realize there is a reason I have always stayed so busy that I just set things to the side. New Year, New Me has now taken on a new meaning. Time to get back to cleaning and finish this project I started.