Such a Sad but Essential Reminder

I thought I noticed some extra sounds of avian joy being expressed when I pulled Tillie into my parking spot, the place I call home while in IL. Exuberant chirps and peeps—I thought to welcome me back after my 2 weeks in the south. But no, it was the announcement that our neighborhood had expanded. The nest perched under the eave of the house next to Tillie has a baby bird. But, although I noticed, I didn’t interpret the sounds of joy.

Robin-mom had selected a safe and secluded spot to build her nest, carefully selecting the right materials and arranging them just so. When I left her patiently nesting 2 weeks ago I thought about snapping a pix from the vantage point Tillie’s roof would have offered, just a few feet from the nursery but didn’t want to disturb her. And I confess to forgetting about her.

Alas, in the couple hours since I’ve been back, tragedy struck for this newly-expanded robin family. Allegedly, an owl swooped in, knocking the nest to the ledge below, and the untested wings of this little baby were useless. I heard the commotion, likely the mother fending off the much larger predator; feathered spectators sounded the alarm, but I was too late.(Click for more pix)

When I stepped out my door to investigate, I looked up. The owl stared down at me from the edge of the roof, surprised, probably disappointed, and swept away, without his meal. I stood there impotent.
One glance at the blood on the pavement confirmed the dire turn of events from seconds before. I helplessly watched this baby bird take its last breaths. Oh how sad. How powerless I felt. Frustrated chirps of bird-friends bemoaned the loss of this newcomer to our neighborhood, patiently nurtured from egg to hatchling and now life steadily and mercifully slipped away.

I sat and stared at this tiny creature for a while, surprised at how affected I was by this playing out of Mother Nature’s ways. It happens all the time, but not in my neighborhood. And I know nature will take its course. I’ll look up and the tiny bare little baby will be gone, feeding this hungry owl or any of the other nocturnal critters that about in this bucolic setting. The nest and the splotch of blood will remain until tonight’s wind and rain remove even those traces. The mother, I don’t know her, just an anonymous robin. I don’t know how birds mourn their losses, if she’ll have another. The owl, I can’t begrudge his action, though I don’t appreciate it happening on my watch.

And I could not help but make the leap from what I’ve witnessed to what I know happens every day, everywhere.

My world has lots of nests—and mothers I know nurture their young, with great hopes that young ones sprout wings. Predators a plenty, protections so few out here in the cruel world…. This scene plays out all the time, with greater consequences and probably more frequently than I would care to know.

May someone be there to help, to fend off attackers whenever possible, to comfort those left behind, or to bear witness, so the loss doesn’t go unnoticed. May we be touched by little losses, our hearts kept alive by our connection to all things living, no matter how small, how different.

I Don't Count

My nomadic way of life for the past 5 years has been quite worthwhile and interesting. But one casualty--me. I will likely not be counted in the 2010 Census. 

Since selling my home so I could buy "Tillie," this venerable, now road-weary motor home, I've relied on a series of old and new friends for a place to park. My home is literally this 27' Gulfstream Class C recreational vehicle. But my use is far from recreational.

Tillie is headquarters for my nonprofit organization, HEAR US Inc., a unique and highly mobile effort to give voice and visibility to homeless children, youth and families, especially those off the beaten track. I've found I don't need much--a computer, a data card, and a cell phone; video and still cameras to do my work. Paper--I try to do without. My board provides essential support services, faxing mail to me as needed, handling bank transactions, and keeping our efforts in front of the folks back home, or what used to be my home territory for over 40 years, the western suburbs outside Chicago.

Among the casualties of this roving is a sense of stability. I awake early morning struggling to answer the question, "Where am I?" Of course, sometimes I get to park in some pretty cool places (like this picture, from a PA state park). But more often I'm in a driveway, tethered to a friend's house by a heavy-duty extension cord. I will happily stay at shelters if feasible, feeling the psychic connection and often getting grateful hugs as a bonus. Or I "boondock" (RVer lingo for parking without any connections) in a WalMart parking lot.

My mode of travel has several perks: preparations are quite simple--make sure Tillie is in shape. My stuff is in my "house," so I don't have to pack! My food can be my choice instead of depending on road kill, er, fare. And I have that bathroom handy--clean if I cleaned it!--for those times when ya gotta go! 

Five years ago I was shaping this crazy plan. Five years, 48 states and 92,000 miles later, thanks to some incredible support, I'm still rolling. Homelessness, among families, teens and single adults, has skyrocketed. The economy has tanked. Gas prices have soared. Economic devastation, while some signs of recovery are being touted, continues to destroy the most vulnerable. 

I'm heading off next week for a fairly short trip--Macon, MS, Sheridan, AR, and Baton Rouge, LA. Not areas that make the must-see lists of travelers. But I consider each stop an opportunity to share the voices and faces of those who courageously shared their stories with me via film. The homeless children and their parents in "My Own Four Walls," and our new documentary, "on the edge," offer powerful insights into homelessness.

Seems to me that being semi-homeless is the best way for me to represent this disenfranchised population. It sure has made me think about not counting. I'm glad the Census Bureau doesn't jail scofflaws.

Faith in America? I'm Trying but I Need Help

I’m travel so much I often struggle to figure out where I am when I wake up. Fortunately I’m in my “house” better known as Tillie, a 27-foot RV that’s been my home/office and wheels for the past 5 years as I pursue HEAR US Inc., my dream of giving voice and visibility to homeless children, youth and families. It doesn’t matter where I am unless I’m scheduled to be somewhere. If I remember a place, it’s typically because of a human encounter.

My recent time in DC, especially during the final health care vote, is etched in my mind. It saddened me to be around so many people who seemed so filled with hatred for the multitude that struggles to afford health insurance. That’s what it boils down to in my mind—the haves and the have-nots. It’s not policy, because few could accurately cite policy. It’s money. With the growing number of people without money, you’d think we’d all be a bit more sympathetic, but we’re not there yet.

Fortunately, my experiences also include the other end of the spectrum, where people go far beyond what’s required to help those who need it. And I never know where I’ll find these jewels. Such is my luck here in the Dutch Country of Pennsylvania. Six years ago, Pat LaMarche ran for Vice President of this fine country on the beleaguered Green Party ticket. A chance contact with her gives me reason to believe that I’m not the only crazy person trying to preserve, protect and defend this nation’s virtuous heritage.

Pat now runs a homeless shelter in Carlisle, PA, down below Harrisburg. In the midst of what I know are long days and nights, she continues penning politically-related columns and is working on another book about homelessness. I’d recommend her first one: “Left Out in America: the State of Homelessness in the United States." When our paths crossed it was like we’ve known each other since the Revolutionary War. In fact, the first thing we did was take a walk to the furnace where George Washington’s people made cannons. PA has lots of historical places that I would never see if not for people like Pat.

Sitting at my keyboard, pondering what makes Pat special, I’d offer this: she’s one of countless people who believe in the goodness of those she encounters, at least those at the shelter. We shared stories of experiences with materially-endowed but unenlightened individuals. Nope, we both gravitate to the have-nots. They at least have heart.

The good news, if any can be shared, is that this land is filled with good people. They are just flying under the radar, unsung s-heroes and heroes who continue to patch this nation’s quilt as it is torn by those who fail to realize, or remember, what a gift it is to live in America. Just like faux-“Christians” have all-but destroyed religion for some, those proclaiming to be patriots shred more than the flag—they destroy the very fiber this nation was founded upon.

Seems to me that my photo of this man’s silent vigil on the steps of our Capitol speaks volumes. I don’t know his issue, his position, or anything about him. His dramatic solitude, his simple pose, his courageous presence spoke to me of the kind of reminder we need, which also needs to be issued to our lawmakers. The fragile fabric of our country was woven by persons who believed that this should be a land of plenty, a land of opportunity, a land of peace. I’d love to awaken and feel that we are that nation again. This nightmare needs to end.

Amazing Civilization!

Having spent this past Sunday seeing the dregs of society on the south lawn of the Capitol, I was ready for an alternative experience. Little did I think I'd get it on Amtrak. 

I decided to ride the rails to Chicago, having not taken the train for longer than the Joliet to Springfield stint years ago. Something about spending $500 on a r/t air ticket between DC and Chicago that rubbed me wrong, especially when it is for a George Winston benefit concert for HEAR US, my organization.

Union Station was a-buzz with junior hi kids being herded by chaperones and "suits" hopping between the Hill and Wall Street, or so I imagine. With time to spare I meandered and observed, though not able to get to my camera deeply embedded in one of my 2 carry-ons. 

The Amtrak area was packed, and with very little direction--a scarcity of A personnel--civilization worked. The cattle-gates helped, but no one seemed annoyed or irritated as they lined up for what is a full train. The A-folks seemed to drop the ball when it came to organizing the early boarding, but even that went better than I expected.

If you look at any public scene--from crowded intersections ruled only by traffic lights, or busy urban sidewalks--you might be amazed to see what can normally be pleasant encounters. It can happen. We humans are still capable of it, despite being egged on by media and pundits.

I'm happy so far to be bouncing along on our nation's railway, enjoying the last moments of daylight over the West VA and MD countryside. It's reassuring that we can still be trusted to be with each other and even extend a bit of concern and help when the opportunity arises.

Seems to me the true test will be in the morning as we all awaken and grope for coffee or whatever else gets our engine rolling. I'll wear a warning label!

Tillie Perks Make My Witness Possible

Sometimes Tillie is a blessing, sometimes a curse. Today I'd say blessing if I can extract the moment where, after missing a turn, I had to back down a narrow residential road that dead-ended on me. 

I'm in the DC area for a few days and, because I could, I spent several hours witnessing democracy at its worst and best today. I took the Metro into the Capitol area, and saw the health care issue splayed out on the Capitol lawn. Testing the capacity of the Capitol police, but much more orderly, immigration supporters amassed on the trampled grass mid-Mall by the, um, merry-go-round. Seriously! 

People who know me know where I stand on both of the issues. So I'll share my photos and a few thoughts I think are worth sharing.

First, isn't it amazing that despite the apparent "crazies" and the amount of ignorant nay-saying that naturally arises about any issue, that people can walk about our nation's capital and express themselves? When I saw guns strapped to the hips of some seemingly strange people I did hesitate being happy about this unfettered democracy, but still...it's why our country was formed.

Of the issue-ites, I bow to immigration reform supporters. Most people of color and some  pale-faces (though I'm tanned after today's weather) did more to get to this spot of being able to wave flags and signs in support of a controversial issue than any of the rest of us, myself included. For example...

...for most, their trip to the good ol' US of A wasn't first class. The accounts I've heard and read about were harrowing to say the least. Read Enrique's Journey for starters. I've driven close enough to Ciudad Juarez, across the river from El Paso, TX, and felt like I could hear the cries for help. Violence, the complicated kind that thwarts the officials' attempt to halt it, has wreaked unimaginable horrors on residents and visitors alike. 


I've heard firsthand of labor abuses common to those whose documentation may be questionable. It's hard to call the cops for crimes when the cops will want to arrest the complainants before the abuser. I could go on and on. I only hope that the stand taken today, at greater risk than most of us would be willing to take, will bring about some massive improvements in how we treat P-E-O-P-L-E.

HC conversations either spilled out as heated "discussions" between people with little in common, or as small groups of righteous-sounding people vehemently upholding their opposition, with tones acceptable for Super Bowl games and the insights to match. I resisted chiming in from the other side about people I know, from family to homeless adults and children, who suffered mightily because of this greatly-tilted unhealthy playing field. 

This isn't the Super Bowl, but you couldn't tell that standing outside our nation's place of deliberation. I won't excuse the bipartisan buying and selling votes that runs rampant, but we have a process, and need to stick with it to make it work.  Let's take the energy expended on confrontations and use it to examine the actions of our political and governmental leaders.

I'm back in Tillie now, comfortable for the most part, waiting for the official outcome of the HC vote, much like I did when I sat in a state park in north Louisiana awaiting the final score of the Super Bowl game. 

Seems to me that when we have so much at stake we might want to try committing ourselves to civility as step one (such as the silent vigil this man made). It makes the next steps so much easier. But what would people do for entertainment? 




 

Ugly All Around Makes Beauty Glow

Was it just that it's Friday, the last day of the shortest month, and the news media are winding down, or is today just a sewer-story day?

It started with me getting my shorts in a knot reading a story about Angel Food Ministries, an Atlanta area (supposed) nonprofit where the CEO is getting something in the neighborhood of $1MLN for a salary, plus perks including a corporate jet. Others are apparently upset, so I'll let this be someone else's problem.... but I can assure you my salary/perks for HEAR US don't quite hit this benchmark.


Then the shit-splattering story of NY gov David Paterson's demise. His wanton disregard of any good sense, much less legal behavior, re: his aide's alleged domestic violence incidents make me, a non-New Yorker, want to scream for his head on a platter. The competition between NY and IL on bad governors has heated up considerably.

Perhaps I'm suffering from a serious Health Care Summit hangover. I sort of watched yesterday as I slogged through other tasks. Considering this was a last-ditch opportunity to cement some decent deal for the American people, I'd say it was a little too polite and a little light on impassioned focus. Imagine standing on the shore, watching a bunch of people drowning, with a lifeboat nearby, and pointing to the poor suckers going down for the last time, "gee, looks like they might be having hard times..."

All that ugly makes Beauty glow. Last Friday morning I met with Starkville, MS Mayor Parker Wiseman, a new, young mayor in one of the poorest areas in Mississippi. He and Alderwoman Sandra Sistrunk sat and had a sincerely compassionate discussion with me about how the tragic fire that killed 3 women and 6 little children at the end of December has spurred their concern that others might, without intervention, suffer the same fate. They promised to convene local agencies and leaders to examine the current safety net and repair if necessary. Here's a quick little petition to thank them for caring. 

And, I took the above photo while in Las Cruces, NM last month. I had met with the mayor there, screened our new documentary, now called "On the Edge" (working title), and connected with some like-minded people there. Mayor Ken has called to let me know he's still working on some short and long-term solutions.

Much to my delight, I learned about another woman traveling the country to raise awareness of homeless children. Agnes Stevens, 75, who started and ran the nonprofit "School on Wheels"  that tutors and provides school supplies for homeless kids, is now traveling the country exploring and encouraging efforts to help this mostly invisible population. Check her blog for a delightful change from all the ugliness.

Seems to me it's getting way too easy to get caught in the mud-slinging, greedy grabbing, business as way-too-usual of power-mongers. That's why the people I meet along the road, and new-roadies like Agnes brighten my day. They're real, they're trying to do good despite the sewer-swirl around them, and they remind me that, as a button from folk singer Anne Feeney reminds me every day, "There's a whole lot more of us then there are of you!"   

Sorting Wants and Needs

I can still recall the Friday I picked up Tillie, my RV, and maneuvered it back from Bartlett to Naperville. Aside from being freaked out by my 20-year mortgage commitment and the 27' body extended behind my driver's seat, I had to figure out what I needed to take with me, where to put what I thought I needed, and I needed to do it fast because I was scheduled to shove off the following Monday.

The picture of me with bins and boxes stacked in this cramped space was plain ugly. I'm setting out on a journey to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what and I'm sitting in a friend's apartment complex parking lot sorting and storing shit. I had no clue what I needed. 

Fast forward, 87,000 miles and 4 years and 4 months later. I'm parked for the night in a southern Louisiana WalMart parking lot, knowing storms are destined to dump rain soon. I look around at the inside of Tillie and I smile. Most of what I thought I needed--bins, file folders, office supplies, etc.--I didn't need. I still could pare back considerably, but the folks here at WM wouldn't appreciate me having a yard sale.

One of the most surprising lessons I've learned (and I'm still in kindergarten) is how little I really need. I'm not austere--at least not by my thinking. I eat well, albeit a limited (by choice and practicalities) menu. I am comfortable, though I've become a cold weather wimp. And I work hard, though I've learned to set limits, like no computer in bed. 

What I've become aware of is the difference between need and want. And I question my want category much more vigorously. I'm not the one stimulating the economy by amassing goods. 

But I have what I need. And I'm painfully aware that many people don't begin to have what they need. And I need to check myself when getting angry about all those who have way more than I think they could need. 

I'm grateful for incredible support that empowered me to pull out of the parking lot and point Tillie's nose out of Illinois. I've met some amazing people--homeless families, people who work with homeless children and youth, and those who truly care about what happens to people in poverty. I've seen some amazing sights, backroad fan that I am. And the dream of creating a documentary to give homeless kids voice and visibility has been realized, and then some! If you haven't seen the HEAR US website, I invite you to do so. 

Seems to me that the leap of faith back in '05 was a good one for me.  And I believe that our nation is at that "leap of faith" point now, staring at the biggest challenge our country has ever faced--how to overcome hatred that spews from every possible source, further impairing our democracy that was far down the road to dysfunction. My fantasy--to have a committee to sort national needs and wants. It'll be an ugly process, but now's the time.