I haven't seriously spoken or written about my time on the "outside" in a while. The "Outside' being Homeless. I lost my house about a decade ago, and was outside for a little over a year. Staying with friends at first then at the radio station I worked at. However ultimately on the actual street.
There I am above six months in. Blank dead eyes, and all.
I found that even among the homeless there was a pecking order. At the bottom those with no options. These slowly fell to pieces mentally, and physically. I was in what could be called the upper middle class of that demographic. In that I was still employed had insurance friends,...options.
I kept a photo/written journal though my family didn't know then.
I told only two close friends from my broadcast life. In fact I came out as homeless on one of my radio programs. Only in America. Anyway I didn't at first know how to be a houseless person. I tried the subway for 'one' night.
Eventually I figured out what most employed homeless do. The Railroad. The commuter lines. One buys a weekly ticket, and there you are. A place to sleep, and pass the time. In the beginning I used Amtrak.
The Grand Central to Washington D.C. round trip. It takes a day, and keeps you off the streets,...but eventually was just too much hassle, and too expensive.
So the L.I.R.R. Midtown to the tip of Long Island,...Montauk.
If one behaved, and appeared like a regular commuter fine. However I noted some who were at it for a while we're losing it. One does go mad out there. They stopped caring for their appearance or began bothering other passengers.
Ticket or not they were ejected at the next stop.
Of course the conductors knew who we were,...they saw us everyday. However if we were cool so were they...live, and let live within the rules. So after my radio engineering shift to Grand Central, and sleep. I'd get to Montauk in time for lunch, and time at the library. Then back sleep, and get to town in time for my next shift.
That was it except for a few months in the parks streets or sleeping in the store room at the radio station.
On the streets I remember being always wet, and cold. Always moving. You can't stop. A great danger if you do. If you try to sleep really deep sleep you'll be found by cops or crazies. Even worse by those wanting to "help" you. They were paid by the head. For everyone they "helped" toss into the system they got a bounty. Nice huh?
My ankles, and feet became swollen because I was on the move for so long....you don't dare lay down. One finds a niche, and crouches. You cat-nap for ten fifteen minutes at a time. This is why we all seem so bleary eyed to you. Tranced as if in a sleep walk.
This because we are.
One's hearing also becomes acute. This because you are surrounded by constant danger. My brother said it was the same for him in the war,...the Vietnam war. He also said I was finally a veteran since I like him had spent a year in constant danger.
All this for just over a year. However I lived. I survived.
Yes it's left it's mark.
Like being in a war it never leaves you. You have vivid flash backs,...I still do. I'm writing again because they're back. Just as war came back to my brother. So the streets have once more come back to me. They will they always will to my last day return, and return.
When my sister found out, and helped me find a new home, and I began to heal. I sought help. Although I found there were many agencies, and programs for those near being homeless or already so. However none,...as in NONE for those that were recovering from it.
Finally I saw the truth of it.
So 'few' return from that state there's no incentive or funds to help us. Homelessness is a plague with a 98% fatality rate. The surviving 2% are on their own.
So here I am treating my wounds by posting this.
Enjoy the eclipse.
Mind has gone on for near 10 years.
