In the Shelter of Each Other the People Live…

As a nomad for the past 10 years, I’ve been more than aware of how my HEAR US mission —giving voice and visibility to homeless families and youth—is dependent on so many others. The Irish proverb, “In the shelter of each other the people live” encapsulates my reliance on so many people for my work to serve homeless families/youth.

Sunday, at the Church of the Bretheran in Topeka, I spoke about how we are all responsible for the wellbeing of our brothers and sisters. In light of mean-spirited policies and practices aimed at making lives of poor people even more miserable, we now, more than ever, need to care for those struggling against the tsunami of poverty and homelessness.

I don’t mean to imply caring for poor and homeless persons should solely be on people of faith. Nope! It’s a 3-legged stool. Government, local communities, and religious organizations combined are needed to reconstruct the shredded safety net essential for record numbers of families and youth without homes.

It’s humbling to realize how much people have done for HEAR US/me over the years. I started out 10 years ago—driving out of Naperville, IL late afternoon behind the wheel of my new (huge, albeit 27’ long) motorhome— as the roads clogged with commuters returning home. Tillie the Turtle, as I dubbed my rig, served as my dwelling, vehicle and office until last September when I downsized to Tillie2, a more svelte and fuel-efficient vehicle (both privately donated, not HEAR US funds).

Since Nov. 2005, I’ve parked in driveways of friends, faith communities, shelters, convents; in parking lots of the noisy, ubiquitous Walmarts and truck stops; and campgrounds of all sorts. I’ve mooched electricity that powered my revered space heater. I’ve filled my water tank for washing body and dishes. I’ve glommed onto wifi connections of friends and businesses. I’ve begged for donations and solicited paying speaking engagements. I’ve been welcomed into schools and shelters across the land, connected with the experts for their stories of homelessness and survival. I’ve been taught the basics of how to film and edit documentaries. I’ve been bolstered in ways too many to mention from my HEAR US board members. I’ve been showered with generous support from countless friends and strangers. But most of all…
…I’ve been gifted by the trust and friendship of children, youth and parents experiencing homelessness. 

My talk today centered around the heroes and sheroes of my travels. The veteran-dad who persisted at a grueling work schedule to eventually be able to move out of the dilapidated tiny camper he and his 3 teen boys and dog called “home” for too long; the military mom who, with her 4 children escaped domestic violence, doubling up with friends/acquaintances until they landed on their feet; and the mom and her 7-year-old daughter who have bounced around from bad situations to worse, not giving up hope.

Being able to film and share painful stories of homelessness among families and youth has been my mission for the past 10 years. No one else does it. I know our nation suffers from a dreadful lack of knowledge of the extent of family/youth homelessness. I’m honored to be the instrument.

I don’t often sit and reflect, much less write, on how grateful I am. If you’re one of the countless individuals who has helped HEAR US in any way, I can’t thank you enough. 

And if you’re someone who appreciates the unique, essential work of HEAR US, and you have the financial means to do so, I’m asking for your help. We’ve got a 10 Years, 10 Friends campaign going. We want as many people as possible to commit to a small ($10+) monthly, tax-deductible donation, and if possible, getting 10 friends to do the same. This gives HEAR US a solid monthly income stream so I can continue my efforts, needed more now than ever.

As I strive to maintain my compassionate perspective and the hutzpah needed to pursue our Quixotic mission to get our nation to change the way we look at homelessness, I am painfully aware of how I need you to shelter me. 

Check Engine Light: Stupid As Spam

For those of you following my travels on Facebook or through this blog, you might have picked up on some "issues" with my new Tillie2 that I acquired at the end of September 2014. Here's the latest...

Ironically, my previous vehicle, the venerable Tillie the Turtle, a 27' Gulfstream Class C motorhome,  my home/office/vehicle for 9 years (183,000 miles on it), despite the (ahem) sorta chintzy construction, was a pretty reliable vehicle, but gas mileage sucked wind (10 mpg).

Thanks to a small inheritance from my Mom's estate, I was able to (I thought) downsize/upgrade to the Sprinter van. At 24' it is smaller, especially narrower, lacking the abundant storage Tillie had. Diesel mileage exceeds 20 mpg on occasion! It drives like a dream. I've gotten used to the smaller footprint, inside and out. I've got to say my Mercedes-loving Mother is smiling upon me.

Sportsmobile in Austin, TX outfitted the Sprinter, and basically did a fine job, with a few unmentionable caveats that I think are fixed. The insides are cozy but efficient and solidly constructed. I was able to customize, based this time on experience, as opposed to Tillie's purchase when I was totally clueless.

The front end of the vehicle--the engine and dashboard--those are under the Mercedes-Benz warranty. And that's where I've been vexed.

The first sign of issues was back in October when Pat LaMarche and I were on our Babes of Wrath tour to Montana and surrounding states. I had just had T2 for weeks, and had read the manual but had not grasped the finer points. So when the dashboard lights lit up like a Christmas tree, with ominous warnings "Visit Workshop," and symbols that looked like nuclear weapon warnings flashing, well, I was dismayed.

The first time the light show occurred was in the middle of a reservation in South Dakota, far from a MB workshop or any vehicle service station. I kept driving as Pat scanned the owner's manual for clues. Since the vehicle seemed to be operating properly, I tried to not worry. Eventually, the lights went away. I don't know how. But I was happy they were gone.

I visited my first MB dealership for the 10k mile oil change/service thing. They were a tad not helpful, and other than doing the basic service, I didn't get any info about the problems I had encountered. But no lights were on, so I was happy.

But then, like Spam, lights returned. Intermittent. Ominous.  I visited another dealership. Sensor problems. Fixed them. The Check Engine (CE) light again blinked at me. Another dealer. Same routine.

By this time I'm annoyed. In one month I've spent more time in MB waiting rooms than I've spent in doctors offices for the past 40 years. I fired off a civil, but stern letter to the MB CEO. For credibility, I enclosed the mighty fine article the Naperville Magazine ran about me/HEAR US.

Within days I heard from Susan in the Customer Care department, addressing my concerns.  I will say I think she's sincere, and she offered ongoing assistance that makes me feel like I'm not the 2nd class citizen that some of the dealers seemed to convey (or at least I think they did). She volunteered to make a pre-visit call for my next service stop. I agreed. The dealership treated me royally. They addressed the issue properly.

But then (are you picking up on the theme?), the CE light reappeared. I'm en route to KS, so my possibilities were limited as was my time. Susan to the rescue. The dealership got me in and on the way within a reasonable amount of time.

Now I'm CE-light shy. I glance down, almost expecting my favorite little light to shine. I'd like to hide it under a bushel basket, but I worry that it won't be a benign sensor, so I pay begrudgingly attention like I do with my Spam folder, never knowing when the essential message might be lurking among the slime.

I think of Tillie, my gas-guzzling faithful "steed" of so many years. Nah, I'm not going to snatch her back, but it makes me appreciate the relatively trouble-free existence I took for granted (Thanks to Mike's Auto and Truck in DeKalb, IL for years of stellar, fairly-priced and hospitable service!)

Happy (Changed) Camper!

CHANGE

Change tends to be difficult, and my changing from "spacious" Tillie the Turtle, my motorhome (and only home) for the past 9 years was no exception. I made the switch to TillieToo, or T2, at the end of September, and it has been a, well, difficult transition.

Change (almost, if ever) never happens the way you intend. I'm almost to the point of thinking "why plan?" since my best laid plans hit the shredder on a fairly regular basis. Despite my best efforts, downsizing, and planning for a smooth move, didn't make a difference. Friends had needs and unanticipated interruptions kept me from focusing on the task at hand.

But would I have focused had I not been otherwise distracted? I don't know. I suspect not.

I have the wherewithal--mental capacity, financial means, support network--to handle change, and yet I struggle with it. I can only wonder what happens when others, less endowed with ability and resources, get the "opportunity" to change tossed at them.

My inability to smoothly cope with change might serve as a clue to remind me that everyone struggles. I might need a bit more practice to grasp this concept. Maybe (!) I'm a slow learner.

After 3 months of struggling with a few major glitches in T2's inner operations (you don't want to know, trust me!), I did what I could do to get it fixed. It meant a trip to Austin, TX where the vehicle was outfitted. Luckily, they worked with me and addressed the problem.

Bunches of lessons to be learned from this time of change. The most basic that needs my entire attention is GRATITUDE. It flips the bad to not-so-bad, or even better. And sometimes that's all you can do with a bad set of circumstances.

So this happy camper will continue to pursue her mission of providing opportunities for families and youth experiencing homelessness to share their stories (www.hearus.us). I'll try to keep in mind my recent episodes with change and use that perspective when I might be tempted to be judgmental, a shortcoming that I continue to struggle with despite my best efforts.

And I'll be grateful for the little things in my life that work, or that push me to look at what needs to change. Yeah.

Butt Kicked. Slimmed Down. Ready to Roll.

The past 6 weeks of life in a slimmed-down motorhome have, in some ways, kicked my butt. In other ways, I’m delighted. I’ve learned a lot…

Space matters. Less space means less stuff and wiser decisions about what goes and what must be given away or gotten rid of, tougher decisions than I thought. I’ve also needed to spend time figuring out the jigsaw puzzle of space in a cabinet—how to not waste an inch. Phew.

Being slimmer makes travel nicer—no more worries about squeezing through construction barriers or navigating thick traffic, well, at least not the oversized concerns I had. Weird to be able to park without going through angst about where I might fit. 

Tillie the Turtle,
my original--larger--motorhome

Now that I’ve gotten sort of organized—to the point of even getting my simple decor stuck on my limited wall space—I’ve got to say I’m happy that I’ve downsized. It goes beyond my ability to bypass gas stations and my marvel at filling up for $60-70.

TillieToo has pushed from my comfort level into a different space, with my awareness of how much I have (beyond what I need to survive). It’s a perfect opportunity for me to ramp up my gratitude.

We’re heading towards our national obsession with distorting holidays originally designed as times to to be kind and grateful—Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

No matter our religious persuasion (or lack thereof), we can take a few moments to absorb the reality that lots of people in our country and beyond are doing without even the basics. 

No matter our financial standing (or lack thereof), we can do something, at least consider with compassion the plight of millions in our country and the world who lack a safe place to sleep, food to eat, or access to medical care. If we’re able to do more than be aware and kind, even better!

I’m looking forward to the unknown challenges ahead. My nomadic lifestyle gives me opportunities for “afflicting the comfortable and comforting the afflicted” that I take as a personal challenge, even when my comfort is a tad less than I’d like it to be.

Thanks to my Mom, Ellie, whose passing in May 2013 made this phase of my journey possible. You’re laughing, me driving a Mercedes. Well, I’m laughing, too. I get to zoom past gas stations!

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....

Ready to Go! Learning Curve Express

What, am I crazy? Perhaps.

In 2005, when first I set out in this bulky, spartan RV on a naive mission to capture faces and voices of kids who knew homelessness from experience, I had no idea what was down the road, literally or figuratively. What resulted was an amazingly inspiring documentary, My Own Four Walls, that lets kids unload on the realities of homelessness, including their hopes and dreams.

I would have never predicted I'd be still living in this tin can, preparing to head out on a 5th cross-country tour, still seeking to give voice and visibility to homeless kids. But I am....

Crazy? Well, my friends would be able to shed light on this topic. But, with homelessness among families and teens surging, I feel a sense of, if not insanity, a befuddlement and frustration that comes with seeing things get worse instead of better. Out of that feeling LEARNING CURVE EXPRESS was born.

LCE will take me to families and teens who desperately turn to an unpredictable rotation of friends, family and motels that may provide a nightly place to sleep. For some reason, Congress and HUD decided to exclude these folks from the homeless count, relying instead on an oft-criticized "Point In Time" street count that bamboozles Congress into thinking we don't have much of a homelessness problem, especially when it comes to families and teens.

HEAR US Inc., my nonprofit organization, is committed to giving voice and visibility to homeless children and youth. We're honing in on the issue of these uncounted children, teens and parents who really do count. I will film short interviews as they describe perils of not having a fixed, adequate and regular (part of the definition of homelessness) place of abode.

Using technology, skilled techie students in Northern Illinois University's film program, and chutzpah, I will contact the local office where our LCE participants live, ask them to watch the 3-minute video of their constituent, and invite them to get informed and involved in this issue.

Part of the success of this ambitious effort (2-min. video clip) will rely on how well my RV, dubbed "Tillie the Turtle," gets me from place to place. Most of the success will depend on getting voters in these congressional districts to weigh in with their legislator that HOMELESS KIDS COUNT! A campaign to do so is in the works.

At least I'm starting with a clean RV, with the year-old dirt blasted off by my friends at Mike's Auto and Truck Repair in DeKalb, IL. I know I'll gather more dirt, dents, and experiences along the way. I'd like to have virtual company, so travel with me and, if you have a few bucks to toss our way for this crazy trip, we'd be most happy for the support.