The Secret To Survival

Winter offers challenges for my nomadic lifestyle in my little van that make me question my sanity. By no means am I comparing my situation—one of choice, with resources and options—to my homeless sisters and brothers. I share these observations for my therapy, and because some of you might be curious.

A brief recap: for the past 10+ years I’ve lived in a relatively small motorhome, for 9 years in Tillie 1, a 27’ Gulfstream Class C, one of those unwieldy rigs with everything contained on a 6-wheel chassis. After over 200,000 miles I downsized to Tillie2, a 24’ Mercedes Benz Sprinter van, a sleek and efficient house on wheels. (FYI personal purchases.)

When I started my nonprofit HEAR US Inc., a unique effort to chronicle the plight and promise of homeless families and youth, I was a newbie at both filmmaking and RVing. That was then. I’m still at it, with much knowledge based on experience. I still am learning, often the hard way.

I was sensible back in the early days. I tried to stay warm during winter by hanging in parts of the country that typically could be counted on for above-freezing temps. I was filming and  giving talks in places like Florida, Louisiana, New Mexico, Arizona and California. My Own Four Walls, my first documentary, was a product of that first trip.

Now I sit in frickin’ freezin’ Pennsylvania. I’m plugged into the outlet of a kind (and anonymous) soul, as I’m sure living in a van is probably frowned upon in this and most communities. It’s the anti-homelessness thing for the most part. I try to maintain a low profile for all sorts of reasons, this being one of them.

I’ve been way out of my van’s suggested geographic range for many years now, asking for trouble, I guess.

My spartan lifestyle, while I have the basics for a reasonably comfortable existence, has a few vulnerable essentials. Water, for example. Already this month I’ve had my water supply freeze twice. Think of what you need water for…flushing, washing, dishes. Yeah. 

I work in my van, mostly on a computer. Sometimes I look like a pathetic Arctic traveler, wrapped in blankets and shrouded with a hood to hold body heat in. Hard to type, and think, when I get too cold. Yeah. 

I’ve also had a really gross issue. I won't go into details, but let me just say septic-related. Yeah. 

I don’t always have a place to plug in. The longer I sit, the quicker the above afflictions can take hold. So I’ve been honing techniques to avoid getting into trouble, which I can assure you is life disrupting. 

And, life lessons are screaming at me in these learning opportunities, if I pay attention. 

• Don’t let it get too bad before taking steps to avoid problems. 

Prevention won’t always work, but ignoring problems doesn’t make them go away, and can often make them worse. Facing my challenges is usually the only way to deal with them. Not always easy. 

• Know how to fix what will ail you if you’re going to persist at tempting fate. 

I learned electrical stuff decades ago and it has come in really handy. And I’m constantly learning about the workings of my rig. Learning, having tools, and being able to troubleshoot are vital.

• Do what you gotta do, but don’t do stupid, aka life-threatening, things. 

Risks are good to a certain level, and those levels are never clearly marked. Listen to one’s gut. 

• Ask for help, in whatever form is necessary.

Swallowing pride is not easy for me. And asking for help is something I’ve never done well. But sometimes ya need to. And sometimes people say no. Ouch!

• Be well-equipped given the limited space, having at least the basics. 

This requires thoughtfulness. What’s really important? Space is limited. 

• Be grateful for what you have. 

Taking things for granted is easy. Being grateful, mindful, not so much. But it helps reduce the angst for not having stuff.

• Share.

Not hanging onto things is a hard habit to overcome. But letting go makes room. And giving to someone who needs something makes the world a better place.

Would I trade what I do for anything? Well, truth be told, I’d love to be in warmer climes at times, but I would miss the opportunities that come my way to do my dream job, giving voice and visibility to homeless children and youth. 

Don’t feel sorry for me. I have the best of all worlds, and I get the deepest appreciation from those whose lives are impacted by having nowhere to call home. When I wimp out, as I do too often, I think of those who endure way worse. They give me courage and warm my heart. That makes it possible to survive. The least I can do is endure a modicum of discomfort. 

Dumb Move! Winter Ravages RVs, Even Tillie!

When I accepted the invitation to give a talk in Mokena, IL on Feb. 28, I naively hoped that winter would be in decline, so I said I'd drive up (from Kansas where I'm filming Worn Out Welcome Mat - KS) in Tillie2, my (sorta) roadworthy van/home.

I could have guessed that this weekend would mark the end of one of Chicagoland's coldest Februarys on record, and that Friday night's temps would bottom out at -9.

Even before that, the below-freezing Kansas temps where I had been parked managed to turn the contents of my gray and black tanks into nasty icebergs. I thought I sort of got them dumped during a mini-thaw, making a snoodge of room, but found out otherwise. OK, so fortunately for me, the places I've been parked have bathroom facilities accessible to me, so it's just discomfort.

All I can say is that I'm longing for Spring more than I ever remember. When I return to Kansas from Chilly-Illy next week, I've been promised spectacular temps, above freezing night and day for more than a day or two.

The good news in this winter learning experience: I've figured out the combo of how my two portable heaters can work in sync, without tripping breakers, giving me maximum warmth, as long as I have electricity. Now "maximum warmth" may be a relative term. When temps outside drop below zero, if it's above 50 inside I think it's warm!

One bleak reality I encountered at a dump site I frequent when I'm in the Chicago suburbs was the snow-covered hole, protected by a lock. The nice guy who came out to unlock it said, "We don't have many people using this during the cold winter months." Yeah, I can figure out why.

I've been on the road for a decade. I know what freezing temps do to liquids and solids. I should have known better, plying my tanks with the nontoxic RV antifreeze BEFORE February. But life interfered, now I'm paying the price.

If nothing else, it makes me better understand how people who end up homeless end up making "dumb" mistakes and dearly paying for them. And it gives me that humble reminder of my humanity (like I need it!).

It also is a painful reminder to me of how many millions of households, and house-less people, struggle with weather related challenges. Multiply my discomfort and annoyances--incalculable--for those struggling with basic human needs. Guess I quit whining now....

Loss, Presence and Presents

While I’m not a packrat in general, you could probably accuse me of being a wall-pack rat. 

I can remember my bedroom when I was 12 or so, every possible inch covered with posters of Dr. Kildare/Richard Chamberlin and Peanuts characters. My decorative trait stuck with me.

So it’s no surprise that Tillie, my motorhome for the past 9 years, has been decorated inside and out to make a statement. Outside, my HEAR US presence—the blatant reminder that over 1.7 million kids are homeless in the US. Inside, well, a more personal statement to/about me, the (mostly) lone occupant. 

I'm in the process of further downsizing, with Tillie2 being readied for my next round of travel. And I'm selling Tillie, hopefully soon, to be ready for my new, more concise, fuel-efficient wheels due to arrive by the end of August. So strip the walls I must...but not without plenty of reflection. 

Perhaps the image I turned to most was this—a photo I had taken of a hot air balloon with a quote that has continued to remind me that what I’m doing makes sense despite moments of despair. 

It is simple. We are where we should be, doing what we should be doing, otherwise we’d be somewhere else doing something else…. (anonymous) 

Yup, I needed reminders like that. I’ve spent these last years doing what even I thought was crazy—chronicling the dreadful (and growing) reality of family and youth homelessness in America, the country that used to inspire nations to want to be like the U.S.

But I digress…this is a personal blog, not one for my societal rants. 

Here's a clip (CLICK here 3-min video) of my inside mementos that kept me company because some of you might be curious (and because I won't be able to display them in Tillie2). But let me comment on just a few of the images and items....

In my first not-knowing-what-the-hell-I-was-doing year, 2005-06, I interviewed 75 kids from across the country. I asked them to share what it was like to not have a home, and what school meant to them.  

A 7-year-old girl named Lacey had plenty to say. Trouble was, fledgling filmmaker that I was, I didn't have the wherewithal to keep the camera pointed in the right direction and rolling. I did get lucky, and for anyone who’s seen My Own Four Walls, my documentary, you can recall her saying “I have to make new friends,” and her unmistakably sad sigh. 

Lacey gave me her heart, well, just half of it. It’s a rubbery thing probably out of a vending machine. It says “Best” and the other half, which she kept, says “Friend.” She's 16 now. Wonder what her life has been like?

The other part of this task that got to me was pulling down the photos in my bedroom. Head shots of special people were clothes pinned to a draped string on 3 sides of the room. Family. Friends. Personal. 

As I unclipped and dusted each one, I held that person in my heart. Some—my Mom, Dad, and sis Patty, along with Aunt Catherine and cousin Christi—have died. Some are struggling with heavy stuff. Some are doing OK. I felt connected with spirits of all, dead and alive.

My life has been pretty soft compared to many people I know. My heart has been dinged by loss enough so I can at least, I hope, relate to—or at least bear witness to—the vast sadnesses of my houseless, disenfranchised sisters and brothers along my path. 

I’m gearing up for Tillie2 and my next unknown route. I’ve learned lots more than I can express in these past years of incredible experiences and travel. I’ve been loved much more than I (sometimes) think I deserve. I’ve grown from a nomad to a pilgrim. 

To journey without being changed, is to be a nomad. To change without journeying is to be a chameleon. To journey and to be transformed by the journeying is to be a pilgrim.  Mark Nepo 

One thing I’ve figured out—I don’t know what’s ahead. But I do know it will be interesting, and worthwhile. So, please travel along with me…if you can stand doing Facebook you’ll get the daily update (and more, which you can pass over or not). 

Your presence is important…to me and to those whose hope is desperately attached to the possibility that our nation, our communities, ourselves, will move toward the ideal that everyone needs a place to call home. 

Tillie: Tithe Your Way to Good Karma--Buy Me!

You may know me as Tillie TheTurtle, Diane’s alter ego on Facebook. 

I’m here to let you know what’s behind my being “retired” and what you might consider doing to help this happen so my transition is good for all involved.  

No, I’m not sick/dying. I’ve got lots of life left in me, as Mike, my “doctor”/mechanic will attest. True, I’ve aged in the past 183,000 miles, but nothing major…a few scrapes and blemishes, idiosyncrasies that come with aging, but I can still roll with the best of ‘em! 

Take a look at these photos to see what I mean. 

And no, Diane isn’t giving up her life on the road, her incredible, unique and effective HEAR US Inc. mission to give voice and visibility to homeless children and youth. She’s found a younger, more svelte companion for her journey. I can’t blame her. She’s got places to go and things to do, and my, um, “holiness” has been slightly problematic, as has my voracious appetite.  

She likes going where it’s cold,
and I don’t keep her warm.

I have to admit that I didn’t keep her warm in those brutal winter days because of my porous nature. And she’s figured out, thanks to my tutelage, that “less is more” when it comes to stuff. She’ll be OK, and will be able to continue traveling cross-country to create awareness of and compassion toward homeless kids.

“Tillie2” will be slimmer, smaller and won’t eat as much. Yeah, I know she’ll miss me and my abundant storage, my creature comforts, and my (now stripped) visual presence.

So, now that they’ve removed the blatant reminders that kids are homeless, signs that grabbed the attention of passing travelers, my boss needs to sell me. But she’s figured out a way to do this that will help homeless families. 

And we both know that I’m a Karma Queen—every moment of my existence has been to do good. We figure that counts for a bunch. 

To make this purchase even more enticing, Diane will tithe 10% of my purchase price to either your/her favorite homeless family shelter. Here’s the link to the basic info you’ll need to know. 

Yup. The buyer and Diane will agree on a purchase price. The buyer writes a check for 10% of the agreed-upon price and donates it to a program sheltering homeless families (she knows some excellent ones if the buyer doesn’t), and Diane will deduct that donation from the final purchase price. Tithing and good karma plus you get me, a 27’ motorhome that will give you lots of great camping experiences!

My replacement, Tillie2, is getting readied and will be available at the end of August, in time to get prepped and ready for September travel. The way time flies we don’t have much time. Diane has a place to temporarily stay once she lets me go, so my new owner can acquire me any time before that.

Check out my photos on the HEAR US website. (Check out the fine work we’ve been doing, too!) You can contact Diane for more information. If you’re in the northern Illinois area, you can arrange a visit. 

Tillie Retiring (4 Sale); Tillie2 Stepping In

We all need to kick back and take it easy after giving it all we've got. So too with motorhomes.

As you may know, my home/office/vehicle for the past 9 years has been Tillie the Turtle, a 27' Gulfstream motorhome. (I refuse to call it a recreational vehicle, or "RV" because recreation has been sorely lacking.) I've lived in it, mostly solo, the whole time except for a handful of days when I was out of the country or had to fly to a city when Tillie-travel was impossible.

In the soon to be 10 years of HEAR US Inc., I've traversed this country's backroads (whenever possible avoiding interstates) to chronicle the plight and promise of homeless families and youth. That will continue.

I'm not going to use this post to rattle off all that has been accomplished since I first climbed behind the wheel in November 2005. Take a look at the HEAR US website for more on that.

My RV-ing experience prior to Day 1 was ZERO. This was a HUGE leap of faith for me. But it's been a grand ride...one that is going to continue in an exciting way. But now I'm selling Tillie. Here's a link to a PDF flyer with the details.

To be clear, I purchased and maintained Tillie with my own funds. HEAR US paid for my gas for work-related travel, almost 100% of the 183,000+ miles. My mechanic can vouch for the condition of this vehicle. I'm happy to talk to people seriously interested in buying it, and appreciate if you spread the word. I can sell Tillie out from under me because I have a place to stay and keep my stuff temporarily.

So, now what?

My traveling days for HEAR US will continue as long as it makes sense to do what I do, give voice and visibility to homeless children and youth. I've gotten plenty of feedback that the unique mission I've pursued over the past 10 years is extremely important. My passion burns, even deeper.

But I'm downsizing. Yup, my living/working space will be reduced by about 30%. In return for the "lean, mean" look, I'll be doubling gas mileage, in a vehicle created to be as environmentally friendly as possible while still providing the motorhome for me to live/work out of, albeit with considerably less space.

It's a Sprinter van, used by police departments, FedEx, and countless companies as a delivery or service van. It's shorter, thinner, and uses diesel fuel. It also will be better constructed, including the insulation to protect me from extreme temperatures. And I'll have solar panels to bolster my electricity supply.

I'm in the process of prioritizing my belongings, weeding out the excess, and figuring out how to live more efficiently, a challenge I'm ready for (much more so than when I went from my 1,100 sq. ft. townhouse to Tillie, with roughly 150 sq. ft. of living space). And I'm paying for this vehicle, too.

Since the name Tillie has gained some notoriety, I'm just calling the new vehicle Tillie2. I'm beginning the transition process, awaiting delivery of the customized vehicle. I was able to eliminate the features I don't use (knowing what I'm doing after almost 10 years of full-timing), like the furnace, coach AC, propane tank, and awning. I'm getting tinted windows, a better insulated floor, and, well, less living space.

I'll take pics and share them. Just wanted my friends to know what's up and to maybe connect me with a buyer. I'm busy sorting through stuff, giving much away, shuffling through papers to go paperless, and then I'll travel down to Austin, TX to take possession of this new dream mobile sometime mid-August.

Now I know how Dale Evans felt about her horse, Buttermilk. Putting Tillie out to pasture...it's time, old friend....