When You're Hot, You're Hot

 I'm hotter than the "hotties."

I'm certifiably hot. By choice (a combination of practicality and preference) I’ve cast my lot with the air conditioning “have-nots,” swimming in sweat during this sultry summer as I sleep in my toaster oven motorhome. My lifestyle inspires perplexed looks from friends and acquaintances who generously offer a guest bedroom which I graciously refuse. “Tillie,” my RV, is my humble home. When I can reduce my carbon footprint I do. And I don't appreciate the AC's sound of a helicopter landing on my rooftop while my propane tank gets empty. So I sweat in solidarity with the homeless families I advocate for.

The puzzlement of friends is one thing. The cluelessness of those who obliviously surround themselves with climate control comfort is another. Their world is far from mind in so many ways. And that’s OK, though I can vacillate between resentment and jealousy depending on my discomfort. My tactile experience helps me understand why folks are hot and bothered about the debt debacle. But I am far from the only one sweating.

A senior citizen, Arlene, a nurse by profession, bought a modest townhouse many years ago. A spiraling turn of events leaves her now painfully infirm, and the AC unit in her home broken for 3 years. She's so broke she can't fix it, nor can she take her ailing dog to the vet. Arlene, by my way of thinking, is one of the millions of folks who don't factor into the Beltway decisions on how money is spent. She and her sick dog sweat and no one seems able to do anything. It costs money. We don't have any.

Intra and inter party frustration abounds, spreading like Super Bowl fever to the “fans” of Beck, Bernie, Biden, Barack and company. Save, spend, tax, trickle-up, trickle-down, stimulate, slash, all represent positions that adherents will righteously fight for, despite the consequences. Convinced of their “solution,” their opponents become the enemy. No ground for understanding or compromise. And no regard for those like Arlene who suffer day in and day out.

Riling up the “troops,” hateful half-truths spew over airwaves and internet, firing up supporters and foes or repelling the silent, frustrated electorate. Differences become magnified, intensified like the brutal heat of an unreasonably scorching summer day. It’s these differences that hold a key to understanding.

Many people who live in climate-controlled comfort don’t understand, or perhaps appreciate, those who cannot or will not choose that lifestyle. The groups become, by virtue of weather protection, isolated. Resentment builds. Entitlement surges. Righteousness spews. And differences are exaggerated. 

Runners who sweat smugly think they understand, and a bootstraps mentality usually results. See, I do something, I sweat, I shower and go to work in my nice air conditioned office. You too should do this. 

Those who live in perma-chilled areas (where are they so I can go there?!) don't get it, this talk of sweat-induced stickiness. Those who live in jungle-like climates and have adapted nicely to their underwear being wet all the time think we're wusses.

The haves, those with access to ample AC, can lose connections with those who toss and turn on humid nights. Stink and sweat separates. Disdain grows. 

Now I don't begin to believe that our economic malaise is simply a difference between those who stay cool and those who don't. But the key to compromise is understanding. And until you walk the mile, or sweat the bucket-load, you don't understand the other person's perspective. If you don't understand a group of people, um, like those in poverty, you're not gonna give a rat's ass about their well-being.

One of the many humbling lessons I've learned as I lean into my 7th year of Tillie-living is that I need to sharpen my understanding of those who are different than me--the pristine, sweat-free policy makers who have deemed the impoverished masses in this country to be doomed to misery.

Heat Changes Things on the Road

Unbelievable! I've finished my 6th year of traveling under the HEAR US banner. I start noticing patterns (that I forget as the year goes on). Winter is tough in an RV (and even tougher when you have less going than I do), but summer...well, it's another animal. Toasty Tillie (L) becomes the mobile version of a toaster oven.

When I walk out of an air conditioned building I cringe as the blast of heat and its brow-drenching humidity hits me. I long for winter. Did I just write that??! I'm the one who dislikes bone-chilling blustery winter weather. Happy medium, anyone?

Somehow I missed the in-between this year. I traveled from the verdant Pacific Northwest to good ol' Illinois just as IL soared into a mid-90s heat wave. Fortunately, I have options of cooler/warmer places to be. I have money that buys meals so I can linger in the few food establishments I'm known to frequent.


So, what about those who lack options to escape heat, cold and other weather realities? My experiences only make me more aware of kids and adults without a place to be day or night. I meet them everywhere. Ironically, I continually find more pleasant "have-nots" than "have-lots."

Nationwide, a shattering budget-crunch saga is closing one of the vital resources for homeless and impoverished people--libraries. Across our land, the one place that lets unconnected adults and kids log on to the Internet, ask for help finding information, hold a book in their hands, escape inclement weather while catching up on news, study with friends, attend enriching events for free...libraries... are slashing hours and closing. Even I've been kicked out of libraries because of reduced hours.

The heat goes on...and people do their best to survive despite massive efforts to oppress and impoverish them. When I sweat or shiver, it brings me in touch with those who can't escape the ravages of weather or the injustices of the economy. Losing touch would make me part of the problem.

The insane heat of budget deliberations in DC and state capitals reminds me that none of us will escape the blistering heat of injustice. So I guess I better spruce up Tillie the best I can and get ready for another year on the road. Makes me appreciate the generous supporters of this unconventional nonprofit organization. We're going to need all the help we can get.

I try not to bug you, but let me mention: If you can give, we're happy for either monthly donors--and it doesn't need to be a lot, or folks who buy our useful "stuff." Thanks!

Clueless? Confused? Cruel?

I walked around a swanky Portland, OR mall, seething. The irony of me parking Tillie in swanky mall parking lots, my grungy, road-weary motorhome/office bearing signage referring to homelessness, usually makes me chuckle. Not tonight.

Earlier I had a conversation with a long-time friend who is, um, worlds apart from me in some ways. She's a financial planner. I'm a former shelter director turned national activist-filmmaker for homeless families and youth. Our paths crossed at the shelter I ran. "Jackie" led her church's group of volunteers who served on a monthly basis.

The conversation that has me (still) seething was irrelevant, except when Jackie sorta snapped at me as I expressed hesitation to raise postage on our HEAR US stuff because, well, I don't want to gouge our customers. "The economy isn't doing as bad as people say," snarled my Republican friend, who went on to say if people would be hurt by tossing another buck for postage, well...and I'm not sure what she may have said after that. My ears shut down.

Perhaps I hang with the "wrong" folks, skewing my perspective about how well the economy is doing. After all, here in OR where I spent several days last week rubbing shoulders with people who work for the schools or run homeless shelters, I can't tell you the number of conversations I had with people who themselves or someone close to them was losing their job, having hours cut or some version of financial suffering.

Walking to Borders (one of the chain's still-open stores) to grab 2 paperbacks I was looking for, I searched for the economic lens to change my vision. This outdoor mall was not brimming with consumers. The conversation between 2 Borders' employees was about schedule cuts. I stood in line with families that seemed to be doing OK. At least the mall wasn't filled with stores that have gone out of business.

I saw a security guard, one of those underpaid deceptive bastions of safety, and resisted the urge to ask him if all was well with his financial status.

My morning news read included a story about quality teachers and their paltry pay scale. One respected teacher goes from school to a part-time job which gets him home after 11 at night. It's the only way he can make ends meet for his family, a sacrifice to say the least, for him, his family, and I suspect his students.

The workers in this tony mall probably would argue the "good economy" theory. I often wonder what the Whole Foods' associates think as they package meat costing more than their paycheck and handing it to a clueless customer. Sure, they're happy for their jobs, but the gap between what they earn and what they need to survive, much less get ahead grows, along with it disenchantment.

My perspective of the economy may be colored by a few numeric indicators:

• The number of children in this country living in poverty is at a record high, 25%. I see kids living in poverty and what it does to them. Not pretty.
• The number of foreclosures and related evictions continues to skyrocket, with millions losing their homes--their American Dreams--each year. The emotional (and other) damage that occurs when a household is sinking into foreclosure is, well, ugly.
• The number of kids in school who have no homes is well over a million, with school districts nationwide reporting numbers doubling. This number has shot up during our economic (boom, bust, you pick).
• The number of homeless infants and toddlers spending their formative years without a home is at least hundreds of thousands, probably over a million (the subject of our new documentary, "Littlest Nomads," that I'm filming this month).
• The number of people on waiting lists for subsidized housing is off the charts--waits up to 10 years, meaning housing insecurity and increased risk of homelessness.
• The number of people turned away from shelters, or not finding shelters at all, is not accurately documented by government entities, but anecdotal accounts from a variety of sources confirm homelessness is on the significant, tragic rise.
• The number of shuttered businesses and "For Sale by Owner" signs I've seen as I've traversed this nation's backroads is incalculable.Trust me. It's huge, and under-reported.

I could continue. but that list was therapeutic...for me.

Being right, as I sure I am, is no prize. It causes me to wonder about my friend Jackie and countless other clueless, confused, and sometimes cruel people. Is it Darwinian denial? Or is it a concerted effort to wish away poverty and homelessness just by saying it ain't so?

Seems to me we should get a good public relations firm to convince people that poverty and homelessness are alive and well. The message--in the many forms we've tried to present it--doesn't seem to be working. 

In a World of Hurt-Opportunity and Solidarity

No one likes to suffer. And some of us don't like to see others suffer. That's why I do what I do (activist for homeless families and youth). I'd have to say my friend Christi Parsons nailed it right when she said I'm someone who likes "to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable," (19^th century Chicago humorist Finley Peter Dunne). So my abhorrence to suffering does have some caveats.

I don't know if it's just the hyper quantity (and hyping) of news we get nowadays, or if it's my hyper sensitivity to it. But it seems that globally we have an overabundance of stupidity and greed, to pick 2 most obvious characteristics. Having brushed up against those 2 un-virtues in Calhoun, GA last week, I'm still seething. 


This link will fill you in on what you need to know about the 2 legislators who allegedly caused the Oglethorpe Inn, a rundown "motel" to go belly-up pushing 80 people to the streets. Fortunately, 3 women spearheaded incredible efforts to find at least temporary housing for the displaced--families with kids and single men and women. Most people rely on government disability payments for their income, not enough to afford a regular place to live, security deposits, etc., one reason why they're in this dire situation.


The people hurt by this upheaval, in many cases, were the most vulnerable folks in Calhoun. They've been chewed up and spat out by society. Some are so broken--physically and mentally--that it hurt me to see them hurting so bad. Even their pets were hurting. It was profoundly sad to witness. Even sadder to experience firsthand.


What seems to be a positive turn, with all the protests going on in this land and across the seas, the powerless are starting to find their voices, and their shoes, and their protest signs. I hope it's not too late. Some of us have been begging people to take a stand against injustice and greed for years. We're all slow to jump on something that seems remote to us, like homelessness.

But with homelessness spreading like kudzu in urban and non-urban areas alike; with greedy bankers and mortgage lenders creating housing havoc and global economic mayhem; with employment shriveling like a baby too long in bathwater; and with union wages and benefits, health care and mental health services being slashed so budgets can be "bogus-balanced"...homelessness is getting an unwanted second look by many.


I'm not saying this is a good thing--that homelessness is now more real to more people than ever--but it does make it easier to inspire action. That's what I'm hoping, that you're willing to act. Here are 3 simple petitions (don't even need to get up!) that will collectively nudge some positive action:

• Help bring some "hurt" to those who allegedly caused the motel to shut down. LINK
• Get President Obama to invite me to the White House to screen our powerful new documentary, "on the edge," 7 women's stories about their homelessness. LINK 2
• Urge Jon Stewart (The Daily Show) to focus his humorous wrath on the city leaders of Gainesville, FL so they'll lift the inane feeding limit on their soup kitchen. LINK 3 

 If this isn't enough--get out and act. Here are some suggestions:

• Volunteer and/or support your local shelter or program that helps vulnerable families, youth and adults.
• Collect needed items (new socks and undies are always needed) on a regular basis (don't wait for holidays, or make up your own holiday!).
• Follow the HEAR US Compassion Epidemic page and share the call to action. 
• Get copies of on the edge and My Own Four Walls. Watch them. Get groups to see them. 
• Sign up for the free, no-hassle HEAR US e-newsletter, and share it with friends.

Seems to me we need to get off our collective duffs before they get kicked 6 ways to Sunday. Probably good to remember that unless you're one of the few uber-rich, a category that I'm not in, you're in danger of the things you most fear. There. Feel better now? I just shared the affliction!

'All Things Being Equal' -- Huh?

All things being equal. What a bogus concept that is!

Case in point: Calhoun, GA, a small town (15,000) in the northwest part of this diverse state. Someone figured, all things being equal, that mismanaging a motel that housed about 80 men, women and children who previously lost their housing wouldn't matter. So very wrong...!

I got a desperate SOS from my McKinney-Vento friends in this community. They knew I had been hanging out in Georgia. They just found out that the Oglethorpe Inn, a nondescript motel on the edge of an Interstate ramp, had the power shut off and people needed to find alternative housing ASAP. HELP! I was in Illinois at the time, planning to fly back to Tillie in GA and then head south. Change of plans.

I seethed as I flew. I seethed as my sister drove me to pick up Tillie. I seethed as I scooted across the state, heading to Calhoun. Arriving too late to do anything Saturday night, I prepped and hit the ground running on Sunday. Met with Roberta and Stacey, confirming my worst fears, but being totally impressed with their stalwart efforts (along with their teammate, Vicky). These three super-heroines were making sure everyone had a place to stay, at least temporarily, while better arrangements could be made. Despite their best efforts, all things are not equal....like credit histories, felony records, pets, stuff, lack of transportation, and other seemingly insurmountable barriers to rehousing dozens of income-challenged, fragile, frazzled folks.

Tillie and I headed over to the Oglethorpe. I knew a couple people there from our previous visit under the Southern (Dis)Comfort banner. It took only moments for these beleaguered folks to respond kindly to my camera-bearing presence. Yup. The same people being displaced by the dastardly deeds of a deacon of a church (also a state senator) and his business partner, a member of Congress. All things being equal...I'll take the "least functional" homeless folks on my team any day! Their stories need to be told, and justice needs to be done.

The convoluted story (still evolving, I hope) boils down to these assumedly responsible (the bank gave them a $2.2 mil loan) elected officials dumping the motel and its responsibilities on a hapless guy who may have stumbled in his efforts...resulting in the motel being shut down. All things being equal, it should have been fine...but it's not.

As a result of all things not being equal, 80 folks were forced to pack up their meager possessions and relocate to a variety of other places. No shelter in town for homeless families, and a limited one for men, so it's not like they had options. The 3 angels set about raising money to pop folks in motels or to pay for (very affordable, if you get the drift) apartments. By Monday, the deadline, all had been placed.

My take on the deal has the 2 legislators responsible for the bulk of the consequences that displaced the most vulnerable people in their community. And as a believer in "personal responsibility," I'm calling on those responsible to make things right. Here's my petition you can sign to add muscle to my challenge to them to do right, our meager effort to make all things equal....

It's my hope that those who should know better will discover that all things aren't equal for people who've experienced more than their share of lumps. That's why our government needs to be there to help...not hurt...because all things are not equal.

It seems to me that those of us who have any wherewithal to level the playing field, aka make all things equal, will have our work cut out for us, now more than ever. Fighting bogus bullies could be a full-time job!

Waiting for the Great Light

I confess to recently thinking about hunkering down and waiting for that eternal force to come bolting through the sky to make all things right. Me, the stout-of-heart, confessing to wanting a bolt of lightning...that's how crazy things have gotten....

In my 60 years, with the last 25 in service to my "homies," more respectfully referred to as homeless sisters and brothers, I'd never thought I'd long for what we considered, at the time, to be varying forms of Armageddon--the days of Ronald Reagan, George I, Bill Clinton, and, gasp, even Little George, the shrub.

With the speed of light, vengeance, hatred and doom seem to be hitting the weakest among us. Emboldened lawmakers, many proclaiming Christianity, are figuring out how to make the rich richer and the desperately poor more miserable. I'm afraid we ain't seen nothing yet.
But my faint hope lies in the fact that December 21st is right around the corner. The longest night of the year, my favorite holiday. It means things will start getting brighter. The days will inch their way into brightness, indiscernible at first.

My threads of belief center on the innate goodness of humankind, despite some peoples' efforts to convey other traits. Everywhere I go I see good, although sometimes not in quantities I deem sufficient to overcome the evil. But I always set my expectations high. Congress managed to pass a resolution commemorating this 10th anniversary of NHPMD. Woo hoo! At least it's something.

Knowing as I do that the bright light from the sky theory is probably not going to happen, I'm asking all like-minded people to join me in sprinkling the stardust of light that comes from lots of little goodnesses shared. If we all make a conscious effort, or increase our current effort (if we think we've been doing it before) to touch our sisters and brothers around us with kindness, maybe we'll overpower the rampant greed and meanness that we see.

December 21st is National Homeless Persons' Memorial Day. I find myself doing a mental roll call of folks I've know--adults and children--who have died, homeless or with homelessness behind them. Whatever foibles they had (and don't we all?), their lives were gifts to those of us who knew them. Some died alone except for their shelter "family." Some had reconnected with their families. The sincere reflections from fellow homies at these memorials would surprise many unfamiliar with life on the streets. (If you're interested in this, or other homelessness issues, check out my book, "Crossing the Line: Taking Steps to End Homelessness.")

Seems to me our best bet is to count on our homies--living and dead--to generate the flow of good energy that will swirl around the earth, generating the unmistakable power of goodness. We need it now more than ever. Amen!

Drip, Drip, Drip

40 gallons. That's how much water I can carry in my home/office motor home I call "Tillie." It's not one of those luxury RVs but it's more than adequate for me. And it gives me a "closer to the ground" nomadic way of life, appropriate for my work under the auspices of HEAR US Inc., my nonprofit.--chronicling lives of homeless families and teens.
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I'm like most--taking water for granted--until I started my roaming. I faced a steep learning curve: how much water do I use? How often can I get to some place to re-fill? How do I economize, without stinking and piling up dirty dishes? Do I have enough for a shower? Is it going to dip below freezing? If I'm careful, that 40 gallons can last the week.

I became a bit squeamish. Dumping my waste tanks then filling up with the hose right next to the sewer--um, am I confident of the integrity of this arrangement? No. I decided my drinking water would best come from the filtered water dispensers that cost me between 20-49 cents a gallon, adding a gallon a day to my consumption.

Choices. Despite my unconventional lifestyle, with relatively modest financial resources, I am able to acquire the water I need to not only survive, but thrive. With a little planning and a lot of luck, I can get water.

Without resources, that privilege doesn't exist.

Substandard trailers I've visited are hooked to who-knows-what for water sources. Trailer park owners may or may not care. Stories of tainted water supplies and poisoned aquifers dribble through news cycles unnoticed. Some places I've seen people have to haul all their water. Some families living in vans need to scavenge water and find places to clean up as a regular part of their routine, along with getting the "bum's rush" by restaurant owners not fond of sharing H2O. And most impoverished families end up drinking high fructose laden soft drinks, lured to their "value" by compelling advertising, forsaking water, which likely contains toxins.

My Navy-short hot shower, with the slow-flowing stream, makes me smile, usually. I try to think about water-challenged people, how they'd be happy for a trickle for a shower, especially if it was hot. My patience can sometimes be tested by the slow-to-fill water tank, but I put on my head-brake, remembering that I have access to water. My slug of filtered water from my hopefully safe stainless steel bottle can often give me pause--gratitude for the gift of refreshing water.

Water experts will figure out the wisest way to ensure the world's water use is adequate for now and the future. We need to do our part--and for me, I'm learning to be patient with, and aware of, each drop that comes my way.

Seems to me that it's time to protect our precious resources. The first step for all of us is to realize that we share this finite resource with our sisters and brothers across the land.

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