Homelessness, an extra extra credit
paper
(with a digression to the injustice of the Justice System)
William Carl McLean
Psychology 101
Summer Session 2, 2001
The year 2001
(America is consuming a disproportionate amount of the world's resources; one of the "Big 7"; "Gluttony". The Bureau of Land Management controls 250 million acres. See current National Geographic, 9-01. Every child born should have "birth rights". A system of disproportional wealth and privilege should be thoughtfully looked at and perhaps reevaluated).
SO YOU WANT TO HELP THE HOMELESS?..BUT THEY'RE NEVER HOME ("home is where you lay your head"- David Thoreau)
Lynn and I urban camped in Austin, Texas.
We had met "on the streets" in Houston. My friends and I had the bridge at Alabama and Main Street there. There was society and sub-culture with-in this setting. Most people had alcohol or drug usage, some didn't, and there were various degrees. Lonnie, who was a Montrose local legend/relic from the '60's, sold news papers at the corner of Westiemer and Montrose Blvd. He has shaggy white hair and a beard to match. After being on the corner in the morning, you could find him at "CAMP" (a term that you will hear frequently hear from the urban "homeless"); an overgrown vacant lot not far from "the work corner". There was Lonnie sitting on one of the two old couches salvaged ("keepers"/"scores") from a nearby apartment dumpster along with whoever else was "visiting", stopping in to drink a beer, smoke some herb, socialize or listen to Lonnie play his old beat up guitar. His on again/off again girlfriend/"sister" would sometimes be there harmonizing. Other people would bring an instrument or use a 5-gal. bucket (a must for the urban camper; suitcase, chair, dish/clothes wash tub, ice-chest, card table if sitting Indian-style on the ground, and musical instrument) as a drum or two sticks hit together (playing the bones). One of these people who was there usually was Danny, a Vietnam Vet, until one night, drunk, he walked in front of a car on Westiemer and was killed. Lonnie had been doing this since the '60's when Montrose was reputed as Bohemian/artsy/hippies. Pacifica radio station was on Lovett Blvd. and you would go to the Montrose to score some weed or see a concert or midnight movie. The head shops, antique and art stores were there.
(back to 1992) Just north on Montrose Blvd. from Lonnie's paper corner was another "homeless" person of a different nature. For years he stayed in the median of the road, hair in dreds, wearing old clothes. People would bring him food. (Lonnie was welcome at the back door of a number of restaurants as was I and there were other ways of getting food)) During the day he would sit cross-legged as if in meditation or pace in a 14-foot wide median. I guess he might still be there. He would more likely be labeled mentally ill. People on the streets slept at camps in vacant or pubic lands, vacant buildings, under bridges or other structures or where ever they ended up that night. Some worked at "day labor", some begged, some had small public assistance, some live just off of the fat/or garbage of the city, some survived solely through charity feeding programs, some "hustled" or thieved. There were also the prostitutes, "crack heads" and street kids.
As well as some of the above methods of survival, I knew people who worked at businesses or lived in the neighborhood. Papa Jim (died 3 yrs ago-heart attack) worked at the Chevron on Alabama and Montrose. Papa Jim lived rent-free in an old 2-story house on Marshall street. The house was gutted and had no electricity. He had arrangements with the owner. He lived simply ("LIVE SIMPLY THAT OTHERS MAY SIMPLY LIVE") and gave away any extra money after minimal living costs to one of his adopted kids. This was his choice between him and "God". I spent many a night visiting with Jim as he cut up vegetables by the light of a kerosene oil lamp or candle. He had at one time a problem with alcohol but had not drank in years. He would feed whoever showed up. He always told me "Have some more, Son". I loved him for his integrity. (I tried often to bring him something he could use or needed) He was a friend, as was Lonnie and Danny (and many others). Garland was another friend in the neighborhood. He lived in an old 2 story as a long time bachelor/widower. In his house it was filled with boxes of things and memories of years past. He was a retired city councilman who had few friends besides the birds and the squirrels he would feed everyday. He would pay me $20 to do a little yard work (his yard was very overgrown and unkempt but homey) but mostly we would share company (he had lots of stories and memories) when I would stop by on my walks abouts. He was the only one who gave Lynn and I a card (a little cash inside) when we were married (1993, I think we still have it amazingly, it says "God cares for even the sparrows")
Our bridge could be quite the place of activity. It actually is the overpass for the entrance to downtown from highway 59. At one time we had 10 to 20 people, depending on the night. (with tents, mattresses and an American Flag) Other times it was me alone or just me and Bobby Clark who ended up there after his wife died. "Duke" Davis (also dead-hit by a speeding teenager while he was riding a bike to a store) was another friend/brother of the streets. He was the one that first introduced Lynn and I. He was like a kid that never grew up (last year when he was killed he was listening to "Kid Rock" and still living to "party"). He came from a rich family (Memorial) and made lots of money in the seventies selling computers. He had wrecked 7 corvettes by age 25. Whenever he had money he would impulsively spend it. His drink of choice was Thunderbird wine. After we were married (at Lakewood Church, got there by city bus and slept in a large vacant grass field under the stars our wedding night, free Doobie Brother's concert July 4th, Allen's Landing) we chose to move to Austin. Lynn's ex-boyfriend, "crying Brian" said he put a $1000 bounty on me. He was broke and "homeless" but there was still a possibility of conflict. Also my x, "bicycle Laura" (an old heroin user turned cocaine/speed user who used to deliver on a bicycle in the Montrose-also one of the most intellectually and musically gifted people that I've ever met) told Lynn she was going to kill her (she had killed before)(she was an "outlaw chick"), but it was though Plexiglas at the county jail, a drug charge. So for a new start we moved to Austin.
We got off the Greyhound in north Austin at the Highland Mall and that is the area (north Guadeloupe) in which we remained in the 3 years we lived there (before coming to Nacogdoches). Getting off the bus, I went and found a shopping cart. We had wheels. Our first "camp" there was in bushes and trees by some railroad tracks behind a convenience store with a outside water spigot. There was a phone, coffee, tobacco and beer available. We would wake up in the morning with birds and squirrels above us and around us. We were there about a month before we were asked to move by the police. We had found out that there is a large population of urban campers in Austin. Moving Day! (again!) Our next campsite was further down the railroad tracks. There was about 5 acres that belong(ed?) to the family of someone we had met and he gave us "permission". We set up a tent, a fire pit, clothes line and found a couch, some carpet and chairs.
There were some other "homeless" people camped there. There was a 24-hour poolroom nearby, the "Q Club". They live in "the tree house", a room made of pallets and plastic tarps with carpet, couches and mattresses. Their deal was cocaine and that costs money. They would bring in money, sometimes a lot but they would very quickly be broke without even a cigarette. They had scams such as shoplifting and returning merchandise or else working day labor all day just to briefly get high on coke(illegal=high cost). Christmas Day we got flour tortillas, chicken leg quarters and pork "country style" ribs and cooked for everyone (we had "company" visiting). The day after Christmas one of the "homeless" broke, mad at himself and the world, coming down off cocaine attacked us in our camp. This was a continuance from a incident earlier when he had asked us for money and when we refused he pulled a knife. Later that night he started to yell that he was going to burn us as we slept. He ran into our camp and I hit him right between the eyes and he got dizzy and went down. To keep him down, and in fear of personal injury, I did a Mexican hat dance on his face with my tennis shoes. He had swollen bruised eyes, swollen cut lip and a cut ear. He looked bad. An ambulance was called out and he went to the hospital where he had 3 stitches on his ear and was released. The police were also called out and I was arrested and taken to jail.
I thought for disturbing the peace or fighting in public, but I was very wrong. One of the other people "living in the woods", made a statement to the police that "It sounded like he hit him with a steel pipe". In spite of no other evidence in the physical injuries or any other and on the word "one of the vagrants", I was indited by a grand jury for felony aggravated assault. The indictment read that "I formed and fashion the said steel pipe with intent for serious bodily harm and or death and I did so used such weapon to inflict serious bodily harm on said victim, Kenneth?..". The victim "Ken" turned out to be wanted and left town two weeks later after an incident where he and his buddy got in a fight with someone at a nearby apartment and their neck was broke. He was arrested in Arizona for other crimes. I was stuck in jail facing time accused of something I did not do. It would be 4 months before I got out. Lynn was out in the woods in a city she didn't know and no family of her own to turn to and with my parents, not knowing them well yet, she didn't get help either (they would have done what ever they could but there was communication problems).
There are some big flaws in our justice system. Recent overturning of convictions by DNA evidence shows this. Prosecutors are rewarded and the "legal system" makes money whether there is a conviction or not, whether valid or false. Somebody makes money! Once the "ball is rolling" there is little incentive to say "Ops, we were wrong". Recent cases have proven false even with "signed confessions" show this. As in class, we learned that people will do what they think they would never do under certain circumstances (such as hours of "interrogation" and shady ways, i.e., taking polygraph and passing but being told that "you failed". Police do not have to play fair)(a easy partial solution: require video taping) I was caught in this system. I was assigned a "Public Defender" who recommended I get money from my parents to bail me out (10K bail). I refused this and made a complaint to the state bar, which they said was valid (soliciting moneys from my parents). I wrote letters to Government elected officials (up the line) asking that my case be investigated. After 4 months, they were all of a sudden in a hurry to "reduce charges" (they still didn't want to admit mistake) and immediately released me. This was because the right people made inquiry. (it could have gone different if I hadn't taken action)(Scary!!!)
This put Lynn in danger and our relatively new relationship in danger or at least serious strain. We had moved to Austin with hope of new start. Lynn was vulnerable to crime (things happened) while in the woods and I was mostly restricted and powerless to help in jail. A Church of Christ couple we had met tried to help by delivering mail and messages and brought Lynn to see me a few times in the county jail outside of the city. Also, J.T. ("the Gentle Giant"), a 6-foot plus black, country (caring and laid back) Vietnam Vet. helped out Lynn by letting her stay on the couch at his modest apartment the last month I was in jail (caged like an animal). Our first embrace when I got out was beyond words and will never be forgotten.
We found 17 acres of vacant land right at the interchange of 290 and I-35. There were a number of temporary agencies in the area and we got some work. I got a job transferring info. from topographical to computer mapping programs. We got a car from a used car lot and started making payments. It got hit by a college student, and replaced with a Murcur X4TI, a German/Ford Sports Coupe. There was a creek running though the property and our "camp" was under the large trees by the creek. I found a truck tarp that was 30 x 40 feet, which we hung from the tree branches. Under that we had individual dome tents. I could park the car under it. We had a large fire pit built with Austin limestone where we cooked. We had restaurants that would feed us regularly. One sandwich shop always left us bread to feed the family of raccoons that came daily to our camp. A nearby hotel got new pool furniture and we got the old stuff ("score");~10+ chairs and loungers. We had lots of company and friends that would come visit. A friend Cruz gave us a wolf that he couldn't keep at his house or farm (it killed his farm animals). We kept it on a 20 foot chained and warned people not to pet him. A few people didn't listen and got bit. Our camp was generally open to new people and what we had was shared. We especially tried to be hospitable to "travelers" (homeless on the road). We were there almost two years. Also staying out there was "Railroad". His birth given name was Luis Gardner. He was a Eastern Orthodox Monk. When living away from the monastery (located in the remote Hill country), which he called sabbatical, he lived in the woods where he could play guitar and sing old country music and drink beer. We took him back to the monastery to stay (at least for some time) and spent a weekend with the monks eating their homegrown vegetarian diet and being included in some of their prayer and study time.
Before, i met Lynn i had been married for 10 years. I was a Medic, Nurse and then Nuclear Medicine Technologist in the U.S. Army from 1981 to 1985. After getting out the Army, my "X" and i returned to Houston where i worked at M.D. Anderson Cancer Hospital. I worked the second shift and my "x" went the University of Houston. She joined the University Karate club, which met in the evenings when i was still working. Her instructor became more than that and she became pregnant by him and filed for divorce from me. That same year, i was hit in the head with a pistol while being robbed near the Houston Medical Center. My left eye was hanging by the optic nerve and i spent 3 weeks in Ben Taub Hospital for the Head Injury and having facial reconstruction and my eye being repaired. I lost my job at the Cancer Hospital and had concentration and memory problems that are often associated with Head Injuries. She (my "X") went on to have 3 children and married the person who she was pregnant by. They now are running a Karate School and she also got her Master's and taught for a while at U of H and now works for Baylor College of Medicine. I wish her and her family all the best and all of God's Blessings. Sometimes Life involves "hard chapters" which this was one for me.
Lynn also was divorced not of her choosing, after 15 years of marriage, raising two beautiful boys and being the primary income source working in the grocery business. He declared bankruptcy and their house was foreclosed and she was left wondering what happened.
There is a painting of two children holding hands crossing a dangerous bridge over rocks and swiftly running water. They seem unaware of their danger or of the safety of the Angel watching over them or the watchful eye (grace) of God (whoever/whatever that may be) on them. On a good day that is how I feel.
Homelessness is caused by people unable to, or refusing to run the rat race. There is a large variation in the details of these two cases. Drugs and alcohol may be a part of this, or hard circumstances, or illness, physical or mental, or in some cases a choice to be that way (the Buddha, Jesus, John the Baptist and many, many others) or just "giving up". The people living through and in these conditions have different perspectives and schemas than those of them that have not this experience. Sometimes, when you are homeless the world and God's Universe can become your home.
WELCOME HOME!!!
Reference: School of Hard Knocks
"keep on trudging"
(with a digression to the injustice of the Justice System)
William Carl McLean
Psychology 101
Summer Session 2, 2001
The year 2001
(America is consuming a disproportionate amount of the world's resources; one of the "Big 7"; "Gluttony". The Bureau of Land Management controls 250 million acres. See current National Geographic, 9-01. Every child born should have "birth rights". A system of disproportional wealth and privilege should be thoughtfully looked at and perhaps reevaluated).
SO YOU WANT TO HELP THE HOMELESS?..BUT THEY'RE NEVER HOME ("home is where you lay your head"- David Thoreau)
Lynn and I urban camped in Austin, Texas.
We had met "on the streets" in Houston. My friends and I had the bridge at Alabama and Main Street there. There was society and sub-culture with-in this setting. Most people had alcohol or drug usage, some didn't, and there were various degrees. Lonnie, who was a Montrose local legend/relic from the '60's, sold news papers at the corner of Westiemer and Montrose Blvd. He has shaggy white hair and a beard to match. After being on the corner in the morning, you could find him at "CAMP" (a term that you will hear frequently hear from the urban "homeless"); an overgrown vacant lot not far from "the work corner". There was Lonnie sitting on one of the two old couches salvaged ("keepers"/"scores") from a nearby apartment dumpster along with whoever else was "visiting", stopping in to drink a beer, smoke some herb, socialize or listen to Lonnie play his old beat up guitar. His on again/off again girlfriend/"sister" would sometimes be there harmonizing. Other people would bring an instrument or use a 5-gal. bucket (a must for the urban camper; suitcase, chair, dish/clothes wash tub, ice-chest, card table if sitting Indian-style on the ground, and musical instrument) as a drum or two sticks hit together (playing the bones). One of these people who was there usually was Danny, a Vietnam Vet, until one night, drunk, he walked in front of a car on Westiemer and was killed. Lonnie had been doing this since the '60's when Montrose was reputed as Bohemian/artsy/hippies. Pacifica radio station was on Lovett Blvd. and you would go to the Montrose to score some weed or see a concert or midnight movie. The head shops, antique and art stores were there.
(back to 1992) Just north on Montrose Blvd. from Lonnie's paper corner was another "homeless" person of a different nature. For years he stayed in the median of the road, hair in dreds, wearing old clothes. People would bring him food. (Lonnie was welcome at the back door of a number of restaurants as was I and there were other ways of getting food)) During the day he would sit cross-legged as if in meditation or pace in a 14-foot wide median. I guess he might still be there. He would more likely be labeled mentally ill. People on the streets slept at camps in vacant or pubic lands, vacant buildings, under bridges or other structures or where ever they ended up that night. Some worked at "day labor", some begged, some had small public assistance, some live just off of the fat/or garbage of the city, some survived solely through charity feeding programs, some "hustled" or thieved. There were also the prostitutes, "crack heads" and street kids.
As well as some of the above methods of survival, I knew people who worked at businesses or lived in the neighborhood. Papa Jim (died 3 yrs ago-heart attack) worked at the Chevron on Alabama and Montrose. Papa Jim lived rent-free in an old 2-story house on Marshall street. The house was gutted and had no electricity. He had arrangements with the owner. He lived simply ("LIVE SIMPLY THAT OTHERS MAY SIMPLY LIVE") and gave away any extra money after minimal living costs to one of his adopted kids. This was his choice between him and "God". I spent many a night visiting with Jim as he cut up vegetables by the light of a kerosene oil lamp or candle. He had at one time a problem with alcohol but had not drank in years. He would feed whoever showed up. He always told me "Have some more, Son". I loved him for his integrity. (I tried often to bring him something he could use or needed) He was a friend, as was Lonnie and Danny (and many others). Garland was another friend in the neighborhood. He lived in an old 2 story as a long time bachelor/widower. In his house it was filled with boxes of things and memories of years past. He was a retired city councilman who had few friends besides the birds and the squirrels he would feed everyday. He would pay me $20 to do a little yard work (his yard was very overgrown and unkempt but homey) but mostly we would share company (he had lots of stories and memories) when I would stop by on my walks abouts. He was the only one who gave Lynn and I a card (a little cash inside) when we were married (1993, I think we still have it amazingly, it says "God cares for even the sparrows")
Our bridge could be quite the place of activity. It actually is the overpass for the entrance to downtown from highway 59. At one time we had 10 to 20 people, depending on the night. (with tents, mattresses and an American Flag) Other times it was me alone or just me and Bobby Clark who ended up there after his wife died. "Duke" Davis (also dead-hit by a speeding teenager while he was riding a bike to a store) was another friend/brother of the streets. He was the one that first introduced Lynn and I. He was like a kid that never grew up (last year when he was killed he was listening to "Kid Rock" and still living to "party"). He came from a rich family (Memorial) and made lots of money in the seventies selling computers. He had wrecked 7 corvettes by age 25. Whenever he had money he would impulsively spend it. His drink of choice was Thunderbird wine. After we were married (at Lakewood Church, got there by city bus and slept in a large vacant grass field under the stars our wedding night, free Doobie Brother's concert July 4th, Allen's Landing) we chose to move to Austin. Lynn's ex-boyfriend, "crying Brian" said he put a $1000 bounty on me. He was broke and "homeless" but there was still a possibility of conflict. Also my x, "bicycle Laura" (an old heroin user turned cocaine/speed user who used to deliver on a bicycle in the Montrose-also one of the most intellectually and musically gifted people that I've ever met) told Lynn she was going to kill her (she had killed before)(she was an "outlaw chick"), but it was though Plexiglas at the county jail, a drug charge. So for a new start we moved to Austin.
We got off the Greyhound in north Austin at the Highland Mall and that is the area (north Guadeloupe) in which we remained in the 3 years we lived there (before coming to Nacogdoches). Getting off the bus, I went and found a shopping cart. We had wheels. Our first "camp" there was in bushes and trees by some railroad tracks behind a convenience store with a outside water spigot. There was a phone, coffee, tobacco and beer available. We would wake up in the morning with birds and squirrels above us and around us. We were there about a month before we were asked to move by the police. We had found out that there is a large population of urban campers in Austin. Moving Day! (again!) Our next campsite was further down the railroad tracks. There was about 5 acres that belong(ed?) to the family of someone we had met and he gave us "permission". We set up a tent, a fire pit, clothes line and found a couch, some carpet and chairs.
There were some other "homeless" people camped there. There was a 24-hour poolroom nearby, the "Q Club". They live in "the tree house", a room made of pallets and plastic tarps with carpet, couches and mattresses. Their deal was cocaine and that costs money. They would bring in money, sometimes a lot but they would very quickly be broke without even a cigarette. They had scams such as shoplifting and returning merchandise or else working day labor all day just to briefly get high on coke(illegal=high cost). Christmas Day we got flour tortillas, chicken leg quarters and pork "country style" ribs and cooked for everyone (we had "company" visiting). The day after Christmas one of the "homeless" broke, mad at himself and the world, coming down off cocaine attacked us in our camp. This was a continuance from a incident earlier when he had asked us for money and when we refused he pulled a knife. Later that night he started to yell that he was going to burn us as we slept. He ran into our camp and I hit him right between the eyes and he got dizzy and went down. To keep him down, and in fear of personal injury, I did a Mexican hat dance on his face with my tennis shoes. He had swollen bruised eyes, swollen cut lip and a cut ear. He looked bad. An ambulance was called out and he went to the hospital where he had 3 stitches on his ear and was released. The police were also called out and I was arrested and taken to jail.
I thought for disturbing the peace or fighting in public, but I was very wrong. One of the other people "living in the woods", made a statement to the police that "It sounded like he hit him with a steel pipe". In spite of no other evidence in the physical injuries or any other and on the word "one of the vagrants", I was indited by a grand jury for felony aggravated assault. The indictment read that "I formed and fashion the said steel pipe with intent for serious bodily harm and or death and I did so used such weapon to inflict serious bodily harm on said victim, Kenneth?..". The victim "Ken" turned out to be wanted and left town two weeks later after an incident where he and his buddy got in a fight with someone at a nearby apartment and their neck was broke. He was arrested in Arizona for other crimes. I was stuck in jail facing time accused of something I did not do. It would be 4 months before I got out. Lynn was out in the woods in a city she didn't know and no family of her own to turn to and with my parents, not knowing them well yet, she didn't get help either (they would have done what ever they could but there was communication problems).
There are some big flaws in our justice system. Recent overturning of convictions by DNA evidence shows this. Prosecutors are rewarded and the "legal system" makes money whether there is a conviction or not, whether valid or false. Somebody makes money! Once the "ball is rolling" there is little incentive to say "Ops, we were wrong". Recent cases have proven false even with "signed confessions" show this. As in class, we learned that people will do what they think they would never do under certain circumstances (such as hours of "interrogation" and shady ways, i.e., taking polygraph and passing but being told that "you failed". Police do not have to play fair)(a easy partial solution: require video taping) I was caught in this system. I was assigned a "Public Defender" who recommended I get money from my parents to bail me out (10K bail). I refused this and made a complaint to the state bar, which they said was valid (soliciting moneys from my parents). I wrote letters to Government elected officials (up the line) asking that my case be investigated. After 4 months, they were all of a sudden in a hurry to "reduce charges" (they still didn't want to admit mistake) and immediately released me. This was because the right people made inquiry. (it could have gone different if I hadn't taken action)(Scary!!!)
This put Lynn in danger and our relatively new relationship in danger or at least serious strain. We had moved to Austin with hope of new start. Lynn was vulnerable to crime (things happened) while in the woods and I was mostly restricted and powerless to help in jail. A Church of Christ couple we had met tried to help by delivering mail and messages and brought Lynn to see me a few times in the county jail outside of the city. Also, J.T. ("the Gentle Giant"), a 6-foot plus black, country (caring and laid back) Vietnam Vet. helped out Lynn by letting her stay on the couch at his modest apartment the last month I was in jail (caged like an animal). Our first embrace when I got out was beyond words and will never be forgotten.
We found 17 acres of vacant land right at the interchange of 290 and I-35. There were a number of temporary agencies in the area and we got some work. I got a job transferring info. from topographical to computer mapping programs. We got a car from a used car lot and started making payments. It got hit by a college student, and replaced with a Murcur X4TI, a German/Ford Sports Coupe. There was a creek running though the property and our "camp" was under the large trees by the creek. I found a truck tarp that was 30 x 40 feet, which we hung from the tree branches. Under that we had individual dome tents. I could park the car under it. We had a large fire pit built with Austin limestone where we cooked. We had restaurants that would feed us regularly. One sandwich shop always left us bread to feed the family of raccoons that came daily to our camp. A nearby hotel got new pool furniture and we got the old stuff ("score");~10+ chairs and loungers. We had lots of company and friends that would come visit. A friend Cruz gave us a wolf that he couldn't keep at his house or farm (it killed his farm animals). We kept it on a 20 foot chained and warned people not to pet him. A few people didn't listen and got bit. Our camp was generally open to new people and what we had was shared. We especially tried to be hospitable to "travelers" (homeless on the road). We were there almost two years. Also staying out there was "Railroad". His birth given name was Luis Gardner. He was a Eastern Orthodox Monk. When living away from the monastery (located in the remote Hill country), which he called sabbatical, he lived in the woods where he could play guitar and sing old country music and drink beer. We took him back to the monastery to stay (at least for some time) and spent a weekend with the monks eating their homegrown vegetarian diet and being included in some of their prayer and study time.
Before, i met Lynn i had been married for 10 years. I was a Medic, Nurse and then Nuclear Medicine Technologist in the U.S. Army from 1981 to 1985. After getting out the Army, my "X" and i returned to Houston where i worked at M.D. Anderson Cancer Hospital. I worked the second shift and my "x" went the University of Houston. She joined the University Karate club, which met in the evenings when i was still working. Her instructor became more than that and she became pregnant by him and filed for divorce from me. That same year, i was hit in the head with a pistol while being robbed near the Houston Medical Center. My left eye was hanging by the optic nerve and i spent 3 weeks in Ben Taub Hospital for the Head Injury and having facial reconstruction and my eye being repaired. I lost my job at the Cancer Hospital and had concentration and memory problems that are often associated with Head Injuries. She (my "X") went on to have 3 children and married the person who she was pregnant by. They now are running a Karate School and she also got her Master's and taught for a while at U of H and now works for Baylor College of Medicine. I wish her and her family all the best and all of God's Blessings. Sometimes Life involves "hard chapters" which this was one for me.
Lynn also was divorced not of her choosing, after 15 years of marriage, raising two beautiful boys and being the primary income source working in the grocery business. He declared bankruptcy and their house was foreclosed and she was left wondering what happened.
There is a painting of two children holding hands crossing a dangerous bridge over rocks and swiftly running water. They seem unaware of their danger or of the safety of the Angel watching over them or the watchful eye (grace) of God (whoever/whatever that may be) on them. On a good day that is how I feel.
Homelessness is caused by people unable to, or refusing to run the rat race. There is a large variation in the details of these two cases. Drugs and alcohol may be a part of this, or hard circumstances, or illness, physical or mental, or in some cases a choice to be that way (the Buddha, Jesus, John the Baptist and many, many others) or just "giving up". The people living through and in these conditions have different perspectives and schemas than those of them that have not this experience. Sometimes, when you are homeless the world and God's Universe can become your home.
WELCOME HOME!!!
Founded by William & Lynn McLean
William McLean, President
Mid-Pinellas Homeless Outreach
2002-2005
Reference: School of Hard Knocks
"keep on trudging"
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