Well, I returned home yesterday afternoon to start a fairly easygoing stretch. Two days home, then out on the road for some volunteer work, followed by at least one job, then heading out on vacation. I have two easy jobs scheduled on separate days during vacation, so there will still be some income coming in (I am still looking for more); it just won't be as much as when I'm going after it full time.
I went to sleep sometime between midnight and 1AM last night, and woke up at 9:30 (this aside from a short nap after returning home). Eight and a half hours' sleep; easily the most I've had at one stretch since heading out on the road. I imagine the sleeping will get easier once I've settled into a routine, but the uninterrupted sleep and hot showers are both welcome comforts of home.
We are still working towards the goal of finding an RV so that we can take the whole family along, but in the shorter term, I am going to begin decorating Townes for the road. I have some plans in store that I think folks will like! I thought about doing a decoupage over the entire van, but have concerns about long term durability. I think you'll like what I have in store.
In the meantime, I need to get tires before Okemah. And I basically have one day to do it (Next Thursday; I'm pulling off the road for the day to take care of that and some other errands). Our Fourth will be spent packing out and rolling to Okemah, one of our favorite places on the planet. I'll still post updates, but they'll probably be a bit more pedestrian!
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Friday, June 27, 2014
Fear and Privilege
It's been a long road trip. One of the things I am enjoying about it is that it is helping me to gain a clarity of purpose moving forward.
One of the things I had to address when I started this was fear. Fear of washing my hair in a public restroom. Fear of sleeping ion a public place. Fear of criticism, fear of judgment, and probably a whole list of other fears that I hadn't thought of.
It's amazing how quickly some of those fade in light of need. As the cold water splashed soothingly on my sun baked head last night, I reflected on this, and how some of my actions going forward would be directed specifically at my fear.
The driving force, however, is privilege. There's a lot of PC talk about "white privilege", "male privilege", etc, and while I still don't like the way the term is appropriated, I do understand it. But they only scratch the surface. Basically, if you're born in America, you likely own some sort of privilege. The Bill of Rights, for instance. Guantanamo Bay showed us that what we've long believed to be "rights" are actually a set of privileges, revocable to those we deem "the enemy". And if you're reading this from any place other than a public library computer, I guarantee you enjoy a high level of privilege (even access to the public library computers, largely unfiltered, could be construed a privilege).
As I have reflected on this, I have decided that the face of every homeless man, woman and child stands as an indictment against me, both on my faith and my privilege. The face of every refugee in every war torn country stands as silent witness against my silence, my complacency in the face of injustice. The hungry, the imprisoned, the widowless and orphans all forge the chains I wear like a modern Jacob Marley. And it is my job to be about the business of rectifying that, not about the business of building my perfect comfort and security.
This afternoon, I am going to go home. I'm going to rest. I'm going to spend some time with my family. But in the fog and confusion of waking up by the roadside for several days in a row, I have discovered something: I'm in the wrong business.
One of the things I had to address when I started this was fear. Fear of washing my hair in a public restroom. Fear of sleeping ion a public place. Fear of criticism, fear of judgment, and probably a whole list of other fears that I hadn't thought of.
It's amazing how quickly some of those fade in light of need. As the cold water splashed soothingly on my sun baked head last night, I reflected on this, and how some of my actions going forward would be directed specifically at my fear.
The driving force, however, is privilege. There's a lot of PC talk about "white privilege", "male privilege", etc, and while I still don't like the way the term is appropriated, I do understand it. But they only scratch the surface. Basically, if you're born in America, you likely own some sort of privilege. The Bill of Rights, for instance. Guantanamo Bay showed us that what we've long believed to be "rights" are actually a set of privileges, revocable to those we deem "the enemy". And if you're reading this from any place other than a public library computer, I guarantee you enjoy a high level of privilege (even access to the public library computers, largely unfiltered, could be construed a privilege).
As I have reflected on this, I have decided that the face of every homeless man, woman and child stands as an indictment against me, both on my faith and my privilege. The face of every refugee in every war torn country stands as silent witness against my silence, my complacency in the face of injustice. The hungry, the imprisoned, the widowless and orphans all forge the chains I wear like a modern Jacob Marley. And it is my job to be about the business of rectifying that, not about the business of building my perfect comfort and security.
This afternoon, I am going to go home. I'm going to rest. I'm going to spend some time with my family. But in the fog and confusion of waking up by the roadside for several days in a row, I have discovered something: I'm in the wrong business.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
The Road Trip Is Almost At an End
About two more working hours, plus some hard personal business. About 21 actual hours. By this time tomorrow, my head will probably be firmly planted on one end of the couch, and there will be reports of seismic activity in Northeast New Mexico due to my snoring.
This trip has had its ups and downs, but it has also been a near lethal dose in reality. I debate just how in depth to go, because there are lives involved here. Last night's encounter with the needy family at the rest stop left me with more questions than answers, and I hope and pray that wherever they are on the road today (likely somewhere in Central Arkansas if they didn't have any unplanned detours), that they are safe and well fed. And that the road they're heading down treats them kinder than the road they left behind.
This trip hasn't always been pleasant, but it has had a constant purpose. I am at a point where I can always fall back on the safe, well known path, but am finally finding the courage to reject that. And it is often not easy, and never convenient.
I'm sleep deprived and find myself making "stupid" typos. Constantly tired, never quite fully oriented. I am just getting my "road legs", though, and after a couple weeks' respite, will be back at it. Only as time goes by, I'm hoping to become more efficient.
I am getting ready to crawl off for agood whatever night's sleep I can muster. After a little downtime with the guitar.
This trip has had its ups and downs, but it has also been a near lethal dose in reality. I debate just how in depth to go, because there are lives involved here. Last night's encounter with the needy family at the rest stop left me with more questions than answers, and I hope and pray that wherever they are on the road today (likely somewhere in Central Arkansas if they didn't have any unplanned detours), that they are safe and well fed. And that the road they're heading down treats them kinder than the road they left behind.
This trip hasn't always been pleasant, but it has had a constant purpose. I am at a point where I can always fall back on the safe, well known path, but am finally finding the courage to reject that. And it is often not easy, and never convenient.
I'm sleep deprived and find myself making "stupid" typos. Constantly tired, never quite fully oriented. I am just getting my "road legs", though, and after a couple weeks' respite, will be back at it. Only as time goes by, I'm hoping to become more efficient.
I am getting ready to crawl off for a
The Hardest Part of Being on the Road
I had an excellent discussion last night with several very creative, engaged folks in the Amarillo area. I'll bring down a few snarky remarks, and, no doubt, crossed fingers when I reveal that these were Unitarians, but, frankly, I've never been judged by Unitarians for my Christian faith, although I've seen many Unitarians judged by Christians for theirs.
Within the course of our discussion, it was suggested that I could use my presence in these modern day Hoovervilles as a bit of a unifying, possibly galvanizing force. Not directly, buit in the standard course of discussion that often leads to these epiphanies.
So this leads me to the new task of needing to organize some literature to direct campers to various resources, and is a good springboard to the relaunch of Hobo's List. All of this, of course, I need to do on a shoestring, as funds for these endeavors are in remarkably short supply.
I will probably check out the Church Under the Bridge concept when I am in OKC. I've been well aware of the ministry since I first read Shane Claiborne's mention of it, but I have to wonder how it's implemented. If it's serious, soul searching faith, I'd be glad to help. If all it is is an attempt at an open air megachurch, well, I wish them well, but it's probably not for me.
But As I was pondering the concept, I went by a building with a large overhang and several garage doors to one side. In my mind's eye, I envisioned putting the clothing and food components of the ministry in the bays behind the garage doors...and then simply throwing them open for the service.
Now to the titular point: the hardest thing I'm finding about being on the road is the delicate way certain situations should be handled. I encountered a family last night travelling across the country to a new place out east, with no prospects, just a hope....cannot help but think of the Okies and Arkies who rolled west during the Dust Bowl. and their crew was just as disshevelled. I want to tell their story, but there's a serious fear I might compromise their safety and security in doing so...and so I sit wondering exactly what to do.
For my part, I can say with fair certainty that I helped them as I could, but will always question whether I could do more. And, just because of some questionable (although, I must add, NOT indicting) things that were said, I did check Amber Alerts to see if there was something I should be concerned about. But that's as far as I will take it; I want to be concerned about the children's safety, but there is no need to jump the gun and make premature conclusions.
The one WalMart parking lot is a tale of two security guards: one is pretty easygoing, the other guy seems a little more suspicious of campers, or at least, of me. I'm not sure if I should find different digs tonight, but certainly will if requested.
Within the course of our discussion, it was suggested that I could use my presence in these modern day Hoovervilles as a bit of a unifying, possibly galvanizing force. Not directly, buit in the standard course of discussion that often leads to these epiphanies.
So this leads me to the new task of needing to organize some literature to direct campers to various resources, and is a good springboard to the relaunch of Hobo's List. All of this, of course, I need to do on a shoestring, as funds for these endeavors are in remarkably short supply.
I will probably check out the Church Under the Bridge concept when I am in OKC. I've been well aware of the ministry since I first read Shane Claiborne's mention of it, but I have to wonder how it's implemented. If it's serious, soul searching faith, I'd be glad to help. If all it is is an attempt at an open air megachurch, well, I wish them well, but it's probably not for me.
But As I was pondering the concept, I went by a building with a large overhang and several garage doors to one side. In my mind's eye, I envisioned putting the clothing and food components of the ministry in the bays behind the garage doors...and then simply throwing them open for the service.
Now to the titular point: the hardest thing I'm finding about being on the road is the delicate way certain situations should be handled. I encountered a family last night travelling across the country to a new place out east, with no prospects, just a hope....cannot help but think of the Okies and Arkies who rolled west during the Dust Bowl. and their crew was just as disshevelled. I want to tell their story, but there's a serious fear I might compromise their safety and security in doing so...and so I sit wondering exactly what to do.
For my part, I can say with fair certainty that I helped them as I could, but will always question whether I could do more. And, just because of some questionable (although, I must add, NOT indicting) things that were said, I did check Amber Alerts to see if there was something I should be concerned about. But that's as far as I will take it; I want to be concerned about the children's safety, but there is no need to jump the gun and make premature conclusions.
The one WalMart parking lot is a tale of two security guards: one is pretty easygoing, the other guy seems a little more suspicious of campers, or at least, of me. I'm not sure if I should find different digs tonight, but certainly will if requested.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
I Love a Rainy Night
I rolled out of Brownfield as soon as I could yesterday and shot up to Amarillo. Nothing scheduled, but I did want to be centrally located. I held on to see if any tickets would come through, but it wasn't happening.
I heard some devastating news about a friend, and headed on to a coffeeshop to sit down and absorb it. Then, back to the familiarity of the WalMart parking lot (I am saving the tourist info center for tomorrow night). The lot was unusually busy; probably 20 overnighters or so, and I talked with a singer/songwriter out of Nashville. I clued him in to what I could about the area (campgrounds, possible venues, etc), and suggested he take his show down to WoodyFest and play the open mics. Not sure if he's game, but it would be cool to see him there.
To say the least, the day was uneventful. With work 40 miles from home tomorrow, I have to admit, I was tempted, but there are reasons I'm sticking to my guns. About 4 AM the sky burst open, and sleep was pretty impossible beyond that point. What had been a gentle, soaking rain became a (much needed) deluge, and the parking lot was running with water.
I heard some devastating news about a friend, and headed on to a coffeeshop to sit down and absorb it. Then, back to the familiarity of the WalMart parking lot (I am saving the tourist info center for tomorrow night). The lot was unusually busy; probably 20 overnighters or so, and I talked with a singer/songwriter out of Nashville. I clued him in to what I could about the area (campgrounds, possible venues, etc), and suggested he take his show down to WoodyFest and play the open mics. Not sure if he's game, but it would be cool to see him there.
To say the least, the day was uneventful. With work 40 miles from home tomorrow, I have to admit, I was tempted, but there are reasons I'm sticking to my guns. About 4 AM the sky burst open, and sleep was pretty impossible beyond that point. What had been a gentle, soaking rain became a (much needed) deluge, and the parking lot was running with water.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Brother, Can You Spare a...SHOWER?
So, yesterday was longer than I'd hoped. With funds dwindling down and automatic deposits not coming in until Tuesday morning, I didn't have much extra mobility. This meant I really couldn't check into jobs in Lubbock or other area communities, in the interests of preserving extra petrol.
I made a pit stop in Brownfield on the way down and printed the work order signoff sheet. I then rolled out to Seagraves to scope out the job site and see if the campsite there was a possibility (it wasn't; I would have to roll on down the road).
Afterwards, I looked for a place to cleanup and quickly change. The best I could find was a park, far enough off the road that I'd be OK. But before I could do anything, a couple drove up and occupied the parking lot for awhile. Well, at least I was right on the privacy part; someone else saw it, too!
So I headed over to Denver City, but found the area surprisingly bereft of shade. I pretty much baked most of the day, although I did manage to get changed before heading to the job site.
It was pretty straightforward; we were done shortly before midnight, and I rolled up to Brownfield. I checked the ATM, the deposit had not come in. This wound up being a good thing, as a job came across at 3AM, and, had I had the gas, I would have rolled on it. As it was, it was probably better that I get some rest. So as I walked back to Townes from the Allsups store, I spied a bathroom, with running water (some of the park bathrooms are glorified porta potties). I cannot even begin to describe the luxury of being able to thoroughly wash one's hair when you're living on the road like this, and at 3AM, I was unlikely to be interrupted. So I was able to get truly freshened up before heading back to sleep.
That's the one thing I am finding. Sleep comes in short spurts, and an 8 hour stretch is a luxury. And that is within the confines of my safe coccoon; I cannot even imagine having to scout out a safe spot on the streets.
I had debated getting a hotel for one night, but as the goal is to make money, any money I spend on the road is money I can't bring home, so I try to be careful with it. That, and I attempt to follow the cardinal rule of not invoking privilege. This is because I am trying to gain a truly comprehensive grasp of some of the difficulties of homelessness, or borderline homelessness, and, while I'm not quite there (I have a home, although it is, at times, distant, and I have a safe sleeping spot!), I think it's fair to say I'm beginning to understand. And I also know many homeless are further handicapped by the burdens of mental illness and/or drug abuse/addiction, and I can't even begin to imagine that horror compounding a state of homelessness.
I'm currently at Lubbock McD's, being my location of choice because of the availability of wireless in all of their stores. Heading on to Amarillo to see if I can scare up some work today; if not, will be in Boise City tomorrow morning.
I made a pit stop in Brownfield on the way down and printed the work order signoff sheet. I then rolled out to Seagraves to scope out the job site and see if the campsite there was a possibility (it wasn't; I would have to roll on down the road).
Afterwards, I looked for a place to cleanup and quickly change. The best I could find was a park, far enough off the road that I'd be OK. But before I could do anything, a couple drove up and occupied the parking lot for awhile. Well, at least I was right on the privacy part; someone else saw it, too!
So I headed over to Denver City, but found the area surprisingly bereft of shade. I pretty much baked most of the day, although I did manage to get changed before heading to the job site.
It was pretty straightforward; we were done shortly before midnight, and I rolled up to Brownfield. I checked the ATM, the deposit had not come in. This wound up being a good thing, as a job came across at 3AM, and, had I had the gas, I would have rolled on it. As it was, it was probably better that I get some rest. So as I walked back to Townes from the Allsups store, I spied a bathroom, with running water (some of the park bathrooms are glorified porta potties). I cannot even begin to describe the luxury of being able to thoroughly wash one's hair when you're living on the road like this, and at 3AM, I was unlikely to be interrupted. So I was able to get truly freshened up before heading back to sleep.
That's the one thing I am finding. Sleep comes in short spurts, and an 8 hour stretch is a luxury. And that is within the confines of my safe coccoon; I cannot even imagine having to scout out a safe spot on the streets.
I had debated getting a hotel for one night, but as the goal is to make money, any money I spend on the road is money I can't bring home, so I try to be careful with it. That, and I attempt to follow the cardinal rule of not invoking privilege. This is because I am trying to gain a truly comprehensive grasp of some of the difficulties of homelessness, or borderline homelessness, and, while I'm not quite there (I have a home, although it is, at times, distant, and I have a safe sleeping spot!), I think it's fair to say I'm beginning to understand. And I also know many homeless are further handicapped by the burdens of mental illness and/or drug abuse/addiction, and I can't even begin to imagine that horror compounding a state of homelessness.
I'm currently at Lubbock McD's, being my location of choice because of the availability of wireless in all of their stores. Heading on to Amarillo to see if I can scare up some work today; if not, will be in Boise City tomorrow morning.
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Littlefield, TX, I'm Gonna Miss Ya!
Unexpectedly great weekend in Littlefield, Texas. I was not looking forward to it, effectively a three day weekend, as the job on Monday doesn't begin until the night. I figured the Waylon Jennings stuff would only last so long (I was right on that score; like so many communities around here, the downtown, which is actually quite lovely, looked like a ghost town, and you could see the widespread poverty).
But I pulled in, and, as mentioned in my previous post, met the Hinkle Family, a group of missionaries who plays in nursing homes. They invited me to the small church where they were playing, and where there's good live music, I am there. So I went to the church, Littlefield Baptist Church, and enjoyed the music. The church was having a picnic the following day in Lubbock, and invited me along. So I spent Saturday playing volleyball in my own train wreck of a fashion, and returned for church on Sunday.
This was a truly spectacular group of people, and an answer to prayer to keep me from spending the weekend moping about how far from home I was. This is an amazing smaller church in a town that needs the ministry they provide, and I'll definitely keep them in my thoughts and prayers. I'm rolling on, but hoping it isn't very long before I can bring the family back down here. It was a great weekend.
So, tomorrow I'm going to have to stop in Levelland for the public library on my way to Seagraves to print out forms. I'm a little more energized now than I was coming into this, and ready for the week.
But I pulled in, and, as mentioned in my previous post, met the Hinkle Family, a group of missionaries who plays in nursing homes. They invited me to the small church where they were playing, and where there's good live music, I am there. So I went to the church, Littlefield Baptist Church, and enjoyed the music. The church was having a picnic the following day in Lubbock, and invited me along. So I spent Saturday playing volleyball in my own train wreck of a fashion, and returned for church on Sunday.
This was a truly spectacular group of people, and an answer to prayer to keep me from spending the weekend moping about how far from home I was. This is an amazing smaller church in a town that needs the ministry they provide, and I'll definitely keep them in my thoughts and prayers. I'm rolling on, but hoping it isn't very long before I can bring the family back down here. It was a great weekend.
So, tomorrow I'm going to have to stop in Levelland for the public library on my way to Seagraves to print out forms. I'm a little more energized now than I was coming into this, and ready for the week.
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