People have asked the same question, or some derivation of it, of me several times in the last 48 hours "do you get to bathe?" yada yada yada, hygiene...
Last night, there were storms that rocked the area. When I was a kid, I would watch the flashes and I was told that if you counted the seconds between the flash and sound of thunder, you could tell how far away the storm was, some convoluted childish logic about each second being a mile. Last night, there was no time to count and not only could I hear the thunder immediately, I feel my skin perk up and the rumble of the earth beneath my feet telling me that it was close. It was very close. Not miles away, but yards...feet.
I found cover beneath an awning and bundled up against the wind and rain. The last thing on my mind was body odor.
I woke this morning, hungry, not thinking about smell.
A lot of homelessness from my observation, is about dignity and little ways of maintaining it when you are out and about.
I circle back to a comment I got on Facebook the other night when I posted my story about the day. I had been in Starbucks staying out of the seemingly omnipresent rain and typing away. Someone mentioned that being able to sit in Starbucks is a sign of my privilege. The idea that I could sit and drink coffee all day...
First, after some recent events, Starbucks allows people in all day. I bought a cup of coffee ($2.11 with free refills if I used my app) and sat all day. You don't have to buy anything though. They are obliged to let you sit there all day. People in one corner having business meetings and talking about Suzie's divorce, and people in the other corner, surrounded by all of their belongings and trying to stay warm. Each demographic existing in relative harmony in the same environment.
Being human is hard. Feeling human is even harder. Think about the little personal moments you have in your life during the day. Those are lost. I just watched a man make a sandwich in public, by the way. He was taking a moment to feel his humanity, his being a part of society. It is something that seems odd to me. To sit in a public place and make a sandwich. When he is done, he cleans up the table and packs everything back into the Kroger bag.
Dignity is a word that has been coming up a lot lately. In the Decatur Public Library, there is a woman, well dressed with her hair done up. A gold cross dangles from her neck. Across the room is a seemingly unattended walker, the kind with wheels on the front. It is piled high with clothes and a sleeping bag. A gentleman comes in and starts telling her that the weather is going to get bad. It is supposed to freeze that night. She asks if the shelters will be open. He says he does not know and suggests they get going. She stands, groaning, strides slowly across the room and grabs the handles of the walker. I would not have assumed it was hers and maybe that was her goal.
The majority of the people I encounter at two, three in the morning who have no place to go, have new shoes, phones, and maintain fastidious attention to their appearance and surroundings. I have seen a lot of them with jobs. Many work day jobs in construction, save their money, and lope into the woods at night to sleep before going right back to the day labor place again the next day. They have to get up early, get in line early because jobs start early.
Some use the money to pay bills they have gotten way too far behind on. Some use the money for court cases (future blog), child support, whatever weighty thing holds them down. At the end, when the check is cashed, they have enough for a haircut, to pay a phone bill, and to buy a beer and/or a little bottle of something from the liquor store. Some splurge and get a hotel room on the weekends or save and spend a week in an extended stay because it feels good to be in a room, surrounded by walls and water that you control.
Dignity is a word that seems to be creeping into a lot of conversations but maybe it is a kind of baader-meinhof thing where the word has been there all along, and I just haven't heard it because I have not been listening.
It doesn't take me long to warm up and dry off in this morning; to get to work and forget for a while that I will be sleeping outside again tonight. "Will someone find my sleeping bag? " and thoughts of the like creep into my head at various moments between answering emails.
This is day eight with 22 more days to go. Coming up, dumpster diving, drinking, and drugs are just a few of the topics I am going to get deeper into as this goes on.
If you want to get involved or help out, please contact me at thelifecooperative@gmail.com
Last night, there were storms that rocked the area. When I was a kid, I would watch the flashes and I was told that if you counted the seconds between the flash and sound of thunder, you could tell how far away the storm was, some convoluted childish logic about each second being a mile. Last night, there was no time to count and not only could I hear the thunder immediately, I feel my skin perk up and the rumble of the earth beneath my feet telling me that it was close. It was very close. Not miles away, but yards...feet.
I found cover beneath an awning and bundled up against the wind and rain. The last thing on my mind was body odor.
I woke this morning, hungry, not thinking about smell.
A lot of homelessness from my observation, is about dignity and little ways of maintaining it when you are out and about.
I circle back to a comment I got on Facebook the other night when I posted my story about the day. I had been in Starbucks staying out of the seemingly omnipresent rain and typing away. Someone mentioned that being able to sit in Starbucks is a sign of my privilege. The idea that I could sit and drink coffee all day...
First, after some recent events, Starbucks allows people in all day. I bought a cup of coffee ($2.11 with free refills if I used my app) and sat all day. You don't have to buy anything though. They are obliged to let you sit there all day. People in one corner having business meetings and talking about Suzie's divorce, and people in the other corner, surrounded by all of their belongings and trying to stay warm. Each demographic existing in relative harmony in the same environment.
Being human is hard. Feeling human is even harder. Think about the little personal moments you have in your life during the day. Those are lost. I just watched a man make a sandwich in public, by the way. He was taking a moment to feel his humanity, his being a part of society. It is something that seems odd to me. To sit in a public place and make a sandwich. When he is done, he cleans up the table and packs everything back into the Kroger bag.
Dignity is a word that has been coming up a lot lately. In the Decatur Public Library, there is a woman, well dressed with her hair done up. A gold cross dangles from her neck. Across the room is a seemingly unattended walker, the kind with wheels on the front. It is piled high with clothes and a sleeping bag. A gentleman comes in and starts telling her that the weather is going to get bad. It is supposed to freeze that night. She asks if the shelters will be open. He says he does not know and suggests they get going. She stands, groaning, strides slowly across the room and grabs the handles of the walker. I would not have assumed it was hers and maybe that was her goal.
The majority of the people I encounter at two, three in the morning who have no place to go, have new shoes, phones, and maintain fastidious attention to their appearance and surroundings. I have seen a lot of them with jobs. Many work day jobs in construction, save their money, and lope into the woods at night to sleep before going right back to the day labor place again the next day. They have to get up early, get in line early because jobs start early.
Some use the money to pay bills they have gotten way too far behind on. Some use the money for court cases (future blog), child support, whatever weighty thing holds them down. At the end, when the check is cashed, they have enough for a haircut, to pay a phone bill, and to buy a beer and/or a little bottle of something from the liquor store. Some splurge and get a hotel room on the weekends or save and spend a week in an extended stay because it feels good to be in a room, surrounded by walls and water that you control.
Dignity is a word that seems to be creeping into a lot of conversations but maybe it is a kind of baader-meinhof thing where the word has been there all along, and I just haven't heard it because I have not been listening.
It doesn't take me long to warm up and dry off in this morning; to get to work and forget for a while that I will be sleeping outside again tonight. "Will someone find my sleeping bag? " and thoughts of the like creep into my head at various moments between answering emails.
This is day eight with 22 more days to go. Coming up, dumpster diving, drinking, and drugs are just a few of the topics I am going to get deeper into as this goes on.
If you want to get involved or help out, please contact me at thelifecooperative@gmail.com
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