Who Am I?

Do you ever have those moments where your words or reactions do not match the person you believe yourself to be?

I had one yesterday.

Driving along, heavy afternoon traffic, on our way to someplace that doesn’t matter at all. We are chatting or listening to music or a pod cast, when we something catches both of our eyes. Suddenly we are aware that we are captive, the light saying “stay” even though we want nothing more than to move from this spot. We look, look away, and look again.

The Boy Scout says something funny and we both laugh nervously. The sight before us is a bit shocking. She’s on the sidewalk dancing….sort of. Is it a she, he asks me. Well, I see nothing there that would tell me different. 

There is a trash can box. You know, the kind of metal box that has a locked panel that is opened when the trash person comes to empty the bin inside the metal enclosure. It could almost be mistaken for a street Mail Drop box but a little bigger. Half of her, the top half, is inside the box. The bottom half, the dancing half, is out, in all its glory, bobbing up and down. So basically, all we see is two butt cheeks and upper thighs (the lower parts of her legs still have pants on them) and her…….hair. With a mixture of emotions, I do what I do when I’m uncomfortable and get verbal diarrhea, “I wonder if the drapes match the carpet”. We both giggle but I know I’m not proud of it, using someone’s gutter moment to joke. She’s someone’s sister, daughter or mother. She’s a human and it goes against my heart to use her circumstance as a chance to joke.  Ugh!

Who Is He

He’s walking slowly. His hair, his clothing, both neat and clean. He is very young, maybe 25 but net yet 30.

His burden is heavy. Four large shopping bags overstuffed with goodness knows what. I don’t know for sure his agenda. He may be going to visit grandma or going to a donation center. I don’t think so though. 

Is he newly homeless? Did something happen just recently to change his status? Does he still have a job where his fellow employees don’t know? Is he struggling with mental illness? In a city, country where it is so easy to live on the edge, I think his edge came. He’s in the right place, where so many of his compatriots hang out. 82nd street in Portland is not a happy place, and he is here, with all his belongings, the ones he thought were important enough to pack in sturdy grocery bags. He’ll find a cart soon, it’s too heavy to carry far. 

I wish the Boy Scout was with me this morning. I am not lion hearted like my daughter. I want to be but I am not. I would love to say a good portion of that is because of my hearing and how hard communication can be but that would be a lie. I am afraid of unpredictable men. I earned my stripes for that fear. I don’t judge myself, just wish it were different  

Next Time.

The other day, while standing near the door inside the super market, a gent came out of the bathroom, headed to his personal cart and started heading out of the market. He made a quick stop by the ready made display of sandwiches and salads, glanced for a bit, and then continued on his way.

My heart told me to stop him. My concience said feed the man but my fears kept me from chasing after him. I’ve always been afraid of the homeless, especially the mentally ill. It frightens me that they may react poorly to my efforts, they are unpredictable and, therefore, a threat.

Lucky for me I had an answer. My Boy Scout has no such qualms and when I made my request, he beamed from ear to ear. He grabbed the sandwich, chips and potatoe salad, ran through the register and chased after our guy. He came back 5 minutes later with a defeated look and said the guy gave him the slip.

I wondered if our gent had peeked into the pharmacy or the goodwill store and, undaunted, the man ran back out. Now, when I say ran, you must understand that my man doesn’t run easy. He’s a big guy, with two fairly new knees and the effect of decades of living in tremendous pain from being hit by a drunk driver at the age of 24. He was lucky to survive. Despite that, he tracked our guy down, gave him lunch and wished him a good day. Our gent asked him if he had bought this for himself and the Boy Scout shook his head and said, “No, we got it for you”.

I wish I had that confidence. Maybe I’ll start small and build the resilience to follow my heart, become more brave over time. Meanwhile, I’ve got a good partner in crime. 

Get A Job?

My sleeping patterns are changing and I've been going to the office a little later on many days. Lately, when I turn the corner off the main drag, the cold shelter is just closing up for the day even though the sun has not risen. It's patrons, which seem to consist of our more stable homeless population, are bundled up and heading out for who knows where. Most of this group look a lot like you and me. I can tell some are heading to work as I noticed a couple of uniforms and a few that are fairly well dressed and sitting at the bus stop. 

I can't help but wonder.....wonder who they are and how they got to where they are. And how, without out the safety net of family, I know a number of people that could have ended up in the same place (that includes my mother after my father abandoned her). There are so many people living right on the edge. I am aware that there are some that take advantage of the system but I would hazard to guess that the vast majority of them would just like a job that affords them the basics like a roof and food. 

I also think about the Secret Keeper and how it would be so easy for him to fall through the cracks. We've got our severely mentally ill (for whom I believe history will look back on us poorly) and then there are those who are just not quite "normal". Just enough that people shy away from hiring them or allowing them to rent a room. Or who, for the most part are quite with it, but go through occasional bad spells. I think it's always good to remember that it could easily be any of us or some one we love.

Either way, I am grateful that the Army National Guard Armory uses space to allow people to clean up, eat and stay warm because even in a place where the weather is pretty steady year round, the nights can get cold and goodness knows they can get long. 

I've always loved this song. It seemed appropriate today.  

The City I Love

Good and bad, I love my city. It is where my heart is.

Ventura is a very laid back, relaxed town. Culturally diverse, fun and funky...

There's about 106,000 people here....76% white, 31% Hispanic, etc.  At the last count, of those 106K people, 306 were homeless. That number seems a little low to me but I'll take it. With all its beauty and great location, it is not cheap to live in Ventura. A young family of 4 needs to have an income of $82,000.00 to live modestly. Childcare and housing being the largest expenses in a budget, averaging around $1150.00 for childcare and $1500.00 for housing, minimum wage jobs just don't cut it.

That being said, if you are one of the lucky ones who can afford housing, food and other basics, there are many things to enjoy about our town;

30 Things to Love About Ventura 

According to a Washington Post article in 2015, Ventura County is the most desirable place to live in America for climate. I can't argue with it. Our warm months are from June to October where we see an average high of 73°F (22°C). We will see a spike of a few weeks in the summer where we all suffer through it and go to a lot of movies because very few people in Ventura have A/C. The cool months are November to April with an average high temp below 67°F (19°C) and rarely going below the 50°'s. We get a May-June gloom that I am not overly fond of but some people enjoy. 

All in all, we have the beach, mountains, good food, great weather, decent schools and loads of brewerys for you beer lovers. I love it mostly because it is where my people are and where my person is.

Welcome!

Mission San BuenaVentura - founded in 1782
(That's REALLY old for us Californians)

View from City Hall

Famous Two Trees♥

One of the lucky ones that can afford to buy a home.