Tales from along the Homeless Trail

Love Envelope

2013-09-12T19:48:00.000-07:00

Love Envelope

In today’s world

of e-mails, texts, and instant messaging, the art of writing letters is nearly extinct, which is only one reason why the love envelope I received today is unique. No, that is not a typo; I wrote love envelope, not love letter, because that is exactly what I received this morning from one of the older gentleman who frequents the day shelter for homeless men where I work.

Most envelopes are torn open and discarded to reveal the contents inside, but this envelope was like no other envelope I have ever received. It was more suitable for framing than for recycling....

Every morning, I am greeted by this gentleman whom I affectionately refer to as “My Stan Man”. He always offers me a genuine smile and holds my hand in his, as he updates me about current events, fills me in on how he is doing, and asks me about my day. From time to time, he slips me carefully folded notes with simple requests for basic necessities, so, this morning, when he beckoned me to the table where he was seated at and handed me another note, I assumed that he was in need of something else. I was wrong.

I took the note from his weathered hand and headed to my office to read it. As I carefully unfolded it, I realized that today’s note was different, as it was written on an envelope, not a scrap piece of paper as usual, but it is what was written on the outside of the envelope that set it apart from any of the other notes My Stan Man has slipped me over the years. On the front of the envelope, in My Stan Man’s distinct handwriting, I read the following words:

“Kristi, thanks for everything you have done for me. Love you always. Stan”

I was grateful to be in the privacy of my office, because I barely got past the words “thank you” when tears began to silently roll down my cheeks and onto the envelope.

His heartfelt gratitude touched my heart, as what I have done for him definitely is not what inspires most people to take pen, or in this case, pencil to paper to write a love note, or rather a love envelope. I have given him socks, underwear, and t-shirts when asked, and we share daily chats. These are things that I barely give a second thought to, as they seem like such meager things, and I always feel like I get more from our interactions than he does.

Once again, I was wrong.

It never ceases to amaze me to see how little things mean the most to people who have next to nothing, and to have My Stan Man thank me for these small gestures, when he has much greater needs that I have failed to meet, like safe, affordable housing, humbles me greatly. Once I composed myself, I headed back out to the table where My Stan Man sat, and I held his hand and said quietly to him,

“Thank you for your lovely note and for making my day”.

His face lit up, and he said, “You’re welcome. You know I love you”, to which I responded like I do whenever any of our guys say that they love, me. I smiled and replied, ”I love you right back.” This may be the first love envelope I have been given, but I doubt that any other love envelope or love letter could ever top it.

Stan, thanks for everything you have done for me. Love you always.

Kristi

That’s another story . . .

Vagabond 9-1-1 Remembrance

2013-09-11T07:49:00.003-07:00

Hay Ya'awl,

I don't normally re-quiescence or pontificate on others' day of requiencences, but today deserves a special exceptional exemption. You see, back then fer this Vagabond, 9-1-1 was most likely ta also be his last September last.

Knot that I was in direct harm's way of wayward terrorists, hardly. I was in the well disclosed but difficult ta find basement office location of another Specialist battling a completely different foreign intruder of unimaginable shock, no awe carnage and devastation, my uninvited HIV guests.

Not to sound pompous or anything, but I was shore relieved when I left that Specialist's underground bunker, hearing the news of what was going on in New York at the time, and getting the call from those Perfectly Proper Piper People of ImPeccably Perennially Poor Principles, that the office was closing that day for precaution. Seems when they took out one of our most active trading partners in the World Trade Center, even Perennially Poor Principled folks found something perplexing ta ponder...

I was fortunate on 9/1/11. The new specialist, along with an amazing trailblazing HIV doc, helped me navigate the Med mine field that had my compatriots taking 5 pills, three times a day just so they make it from bed to bath on their own. My expert guidance and bomb clearing squad kept me off those meds that were indeed getting folks back up out of bed, but also leading them into battlefield complications no-one could foresee, even if he had the vision , insight and legendary compassion and toughness of Donny Rumplefelt's skin.

So today as I reflect on where I was that fateful day, as I prepare to again visit a specialist for an appointment to see how once again to successfully navigate that med minefield, I trully am thankful.

Not for the meds, or specialists, but for the kids like my nephew Stephen, and +Rob Marshall who answered the most pressing of life's challenges, took up arms and fought the wars that ensued from that fateful day. Those are my heroes who I owe more to than I'll ever be able to repay.

I'm helping +Rob Marshall+ here, a two time active duty Iraq infantry sergeant start up a 100% made in the U.S.A manufacturing business, who's targeting 30% of pretax profits to aid returning Vets like he deal with the transitional challenges and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder complications, return to a productive, and proud Civilian life. Rob's vision has become my personal mission,

making sure this young hero is at Oprah's dinner table for Christmas breakfast.

It's the least "I kin dew".

Vagabond Ted

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Zeus and Xenon

2013-09-09T09:36:00.000-07:00

It's OK to come out.
They're gonna love Ya!

Hay Ya'awl,

Cain't balieve the entire summer is dun gone and I haven't been writing at'tall. Only excuse really is I jist took a break from the online world fer a spell and attempted fitting into the real world once again. Wa'ell, as usual fer yours truthfully, those are shore some stories, but knot fer sharing here fer right now. This hare story is about transitions, clearing new trails, and forging ahead with the gusto of, and quest of every burning man, making shore we never elect another burning Bush!

Most of ewes revisiting this website again, and again, and again are already familiar with my little ordeal up thare in Forest Park last year or so ago, when self righteous zombies, with the express conspiratorial consent of that evil landlord attempted to kidnap Blue. His death at the hands of would be dognappers kinda pulled the life out from under my rug, as it would anyone when one discovers that is was family and friends behind the conspiracy that ended up getting one of your children killed. It isn't something that one easily heals from or soon gets over, but the place one is left at after such a horrific ordeal, is a place from which, one MUST, move on.

Now I kicked around what to kick around and where I should kick it for a might longer than one would suspect, cuz I was given that once in a million opportunity most ordinary folk would never dream would be suddenly thrust upon, and startlingly made available to them. Starting over at around life's 50 mile marker completely severed from any ties and connections to every one of those family members and 'friends' from along all the miles over all the trails leading up to that magically misty eyed, trailmarker # 50. Why, it was enough to make even this solitudinously affectionado of solitude, stop and take pause...

What does one do when their world no longer exists, and the world you find yourself by yourself in, doesn't even know that world you loved and belonged to, ever existed? Do I leave the country to seek out the wisdom of my Sage Vagabond Mary and travel the rest of my life away? Do I stare optimistically over that blank slate once again and kid myself as confidently as possible, I can achieve anything I want again, even past milemarker 50? Do I go back? To whom or to what?? It took a long time, even for this old Vagabond, to devise some semblance of a rational answer.

Everyone is familiar with the story of the Phoenix, but not everyone finds himself living it along his life trail. I also taint nowhare's near a religious person, but havin studied all the derivations of many of the One True Words, and bein my Grandparent's kid, am very spiritually aware of the Universal Energy that guides each of our journeys and try to blaze my trail in accordance with the signs it provides me. Especially at times like this, where I find myself needing to rise from the careless ashes created by those who cain't see their own signs so they trample all over everybody elses trail. This person attempting to rise from those ashes, was about to discover another Phoenix!

Phoenix

Thank you, Phoenix
(photo courtesy of GPRS)

After my most solitudinously long pause, I decided to rebuild my family in the fashion that has always brought me love and happiness, and put down new roots instead of seeking out Vagabond Mary. I thought I was going to get two new Chows to honor and continue the legacy of Blue and Little One, when the Universe threw down one of it's powerful signs and I stumbled over Phoenix's story;

Great Pyrenees Rescue Society website

Zeus and Xenon: Warrior Prince and Princess

Saving the Universe everyday is dawg tiring!

Why, I couldn't balieve the ongoing crisis they're havin with these dawgs in Texas soes I called 'em up and aisked if'n thare weren't sumpthin I could dew ta help. Wa'ell that old Universe was once again spot on with the signs and guideposts it provides me cause these folks became my new friends right quick and I was blessed enuf and honored to be able to adopt Zeus and Xenon (stage names ta protect their privacy) here to once again bring the unconditional love and happiness back into my family that only four-leggeds can bring. I can't thank enuf, Sherri, Christy, Sara, Jeff and all the other down home fouwk I didn't getta meet that help that overground GPRS Rescue Railroad save so many dawgs by bringin 'em otta Texas.

Now as if two Phoenixes and lightning bolt signs from the Universe twern't enuf, that old Universe sent me another one that jist completely knocked these old trailbustin feet right off the ground. See, it wasn't long bafore adopting these two champions of everything good and right in the world, when a young feller took the time ta read and comment on one of my stories, so I thought I'd give him a shout back and,,,

Warrior Collars for a Warrior Cause

(to be continued...)

Vagabond Ted

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I’ve Got Your Back

2013-05-13T02:34:00.000-07:00

I've got your Back

Originally published on:

That's Another Story

by +Kristi Jedlicki

How many times have you said to someone or had someone say to you,

"I've got your back."

It is a popular phrase that is easy to say, but actually following through with this declaration can be anything but easy. Having someone's back sometimes is inconvenient, stressful, perilous, and a host of other adjectives that we didn't bargain for when uttering those words. Yesterday, some very special people reminded me that they had my back, and in return, they have my heartfelt gratitude.

This week has been busy at the day shelter for homeless men where I work, and we have had a lot of new faces joining our "family". We really are like a family in so many ways, and that sense of family was on display in a number of ways this week. One of the most touching displays was when one of the gentlemen with a history of heart problems began to feel ill and requested that an ambulance be called for him. As he waited for the ambulance to arrive, another guest helped the staff to keep him calm and comfortable, and when the gentleman was being loaded onto the stretcher, the other man continued to offer him words of support, while gathering up his belongings and coat and making sure that they accompanied him to the hospital. One of the EMTs took note of his kindness and thanked him for his help, and later when I also praised him, he humbly replied, "I would want someone to do the same for me, and that's what we do here. We look out for one another." He had that gentleman's back, because that is what we do here indeed.

Yesterday, a new guest arrived at the day shelter. This gentleman brought more with him than his backpack of belongings. Like everyone else who walks through our doors, he brought with him a great deal of pain and unresolved issues. He came to us seeking help for an addiction, and because of that addiction, he became very agitated and upset when another staff member had to explain that he would need to stay in a local overnight shelter until a bed at a treatment center became available the next day. He was hurt, and hurt people hurt people. When he did not get the help he desired, he began yelling at the staff member and me and became very agitated in front of the rest of the men in the shelter.

We attempted to de-escalate the situation by speaking to him calmly and firmly and reassuring him that he would receive the help he sought, but he was not quick to respond to our reassurances. He continued to yell and curse, and he moved closer to me, until he was in my face. It was only the second time since I began working there that I felt threatened, and since I did not know this gentleman, I was not sure what he was capable of doing or the best way to help calm him down. At one point, he yelled, "You don't care about me. You're just doing this for a fucking paycheck." The words barely left his mouth, when behind my back, I heard the sound of chairs being pushed away from the tables. I knew without turning around that my guys most definitely had my back, and with that, I felt my fear disappear. With the help of another staff member, this man was escorted out of the shelter, and when I went back to my office, one of the guys stopped me to make sure I was okay and said, "Your crew had your back, and we were ready to come in after you." I thanked him and left work shortly after that, and I thought that this incident was over. While the threat had passed, the effects lingered today for some of the men.

As I prepared to go to a meeting this morning, one of the guys stopped me and said, "I thought you were going to get hit yesterday, and I was up out of my chair, and so was everyone else", and he then added, "Last night, I said a prayer for God to keep you safe and for Him to send someone to protect you when we aren't around." The look of concern on his face and sincerity in his voice truly touched my heart, and I could not find the adequate words to thank him. Later in the afternoon, the man who told me that my "crew" had been ready to intervene, if needed, approached me again and said, "I am sorry that you got hurt yesterday." I reassured him that I had not been hurt and was fine, and he explained, "When he said that you were doing this for a paycheck, I could tell by the look on your face that he hurt your heart. The guys and I were talking about it at dinner, and no-one here believes that, because you love us right back, like you always say." In that moment, I came to understand the true meaning of what it means to have someone's back, and I also understood how truly fortunate I am to be a member of this particular family. Whether I am at "home" or not, I know that they have my back, and you better believe that I have their backs. That's what we do, because that's what a family does.

That's another story . . .

I read this first thing when I woke up this mornin and it moved me ta tears. Kin I aisk Ya'awl a favor? Since it's Mothers Day can ya give Ms. Kristi here a "Thank Ya Kindly" comment and share it on yer page with yer friends? Thank Ya Kindly, VT.

Daniel

2013-05-08T23:22:00.001-07:00

Daniel

is traveling right now on the train

He's been off the streets for a month

and if he makes his curfew by 10:00

he won't get kicked out again.

Oh, oh, Oh

I see the anxiousness in his eyes

as I drive him to the station

and wave goodbye.

His twin sons at Harvard Law

and his girls 5 and 10,

can't rely on Daddy anymore

cause his unemployment ran out again.

Oh, oh, Oh

Daniel my brother,

you are younger than me

and I feel the real pain,

of the scars society won't see.

like

When they gauge the

color of your skin,

to predetermine you'll never

kick their crack assumption again

oh, Oh, oh

so shelter now until till

set-up to fail at 10:00

keep the doors revolving

like native American history,

to keep the pale employed

as the only ones

allowed truly free.

Daniel my brother,

you are younger than me

and I feel the real pain,

of the scars society won't see...

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Welcome Home

2013-05-05T21:15:00.000-07:00

One day last year

When I arrived at work, which happens to be at a day shelter for homeless men, I met an older, unassuming gentleman who has become someone I look up to for his endless supply of hope and determination. When we first met, we shed tears of sorrow together, and earlier this week, we again shared tears with one another, only this time, they were tears of pure joy. It has been my true honor and pleasure to be a small part of his life, and I am humbled to share part of his story here.

When we first met, he asked me for the one resource that matters the most-safe, affordable housing. As I have to do on almost a daily basis when asked this plaintive question by one of the guests at the day shelter, I had to explain to him that we did not have any openings in any of our permanent supportive housing programs. As I answered his question, I saw his shoulders sag and his eyes well with tears, as he nodded slowly and said, “I’m too old to be out on the streets any more, and I just want a place to live.” After nearly three years of working with these special men, it never gets any easier to be the bearer of bad news, so, I strive to help the recipients bear the bad news.

Since this initial conversation, this gentleman and I have gotten to know one another during conversations shared on the steps outside of the shelter’s front doors as I come to and go from work and in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the day shelter itself. Over time, he has come to trust me enough to share that he struggles with depression and has contemplated suicide on more than one occasion, and I have watched his big smile and twinkling eyes give way to a pained expression and tears when the pain has overwhelmed him. Even during his darkest moments, I have had the privilege of witnessing his belief that things would improve, even if he did not know how or when they would. He simply had faith in himself and in others and kept his hope alive.

On Monday afternoon, he appeared in the doorway as I folded a load of towels and wash cloths. He had a huge smile on his face and announced that his case manager informed him that she had the key to his new apartment and would be able to help him move in later this week. I thought my heart would burst with joy, and we hugged one another and cried happy tears together. We both recalled the painful tears we shed together when we first met, and I told him that even though his case manager had helped him secure housing that it was his faith, hope, and determination that finally led him back home. I then thanked him for allowing me to share such a special moment with him, and I kidded him about him not being there to greet me every morning and to hold the front door open for me any more, as he does on most days. He said, “There are plenty of guys here who would love to hold open the door for you, and you’ll find someone to replace me.” I agreed that there were other men who may offer to hold the door for me, but that he is one of a kind and could never be replaced. With that, he smiled through tears and said that he would stop by to visit the day shelter and would be there to open the door for me whenever he was in the neighborhood.

He left his “home” at the day shelter and moved into his apartment yesterday, but he always will have a special place in my heart and a home away from home with us. When I pulled up in front of work this morning, I saw many familiar faces, but one in particular caught my eye and warmed my heart. Any guesses who made my day by stopping by and holding the door open for me?

That’s another story . . .

Ms. Kristi of Kentucky

Sunday Family Sunday Specially

2013-05-05T21:12:00.000-07:00

Thru these doors to
The Wonderful World of
Sunday Family

Hay Ya'awl,

Back in my day,,,

huh I never thought I'd get to hare and bea old enuf ta say that, but that's the second time now I'm starting my story with it. Anyway Sunday nights were special with Mom not slaving away in the kitchen preparing a fresh feast from garden and farm for the 7 of us to eat, just her cast iron kettles of popcorn brought into the living room where the other 6 were already spread out on the floors, stairway and furniture watching the Magnovox, change the channel whoever's closest, stereo consol TV...

All of us were played out, and always there ready for Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, followed directly by Walt, personally pitching his Wonderful World of Disney. Sunday nights were special, at least at the time, for our family.

So today when I saw Richard Branson's posting of the 4 women in his life, and it prompted the question for me, I answered his challenge and quickly posted these pics and short introductory.

Wa'ell one memory ledta another and scanning that incredible pic, started me contemplating the universe and family, and how much the simple things in life, like having a home and stove to pop popcorn on, with doors that lead to the memories of that Sunday Specially Familyroom, can mean and bring to a caring human being.

So I couldn't think of a better way nor a better story about the incredible women in my life to use this as an introductory.

Popcorn from
Mom's Kettle
is still the best!

I'd like ya'awl ta welcome Kristi Jo Jedlicki to my online family as the new co-author/owner/producer of this website, Tales from along the Homeless Trail, for as long as she enjoys to be.

Her "fellows or guys" at the Homeless shelter she's the Program Director at call her "Ms. Kristi", I describe her as the Mother Teresa of Kentucky, I'm not sure what her two beautiful daughters call her intimately, but to combine it all now officially, again please welcome Ms. Kristi (Mother Teresa) of Kentucky.

I stumbled upon her writing exploring WordPress as a host for this website, and couldn't believe the warmhearted, compassionate stories Kristi was publishing almost daily. How she lives, what she does, and what she receives from the gifts she presents into the Universal energy, is an inspiration to me that I hope the world soon also sees. I'm honored that our trails crossed, and that for the time being we're going to hike along together here and share our stories.

Ms. Kristi can take it from here as this is one of the latest stories from That's another Story that captured my heart and interest. I hope you enjoy her recent "Welcome Home" awaiting you on the other side of those Doors to the Family Specially room, as much as I, "jist dun did."

Thanks and welcome again, Ms. Kristi :-)

Vagabond Ted

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Write Me In!

2013-05-04T22:52:00.002-07:00

Write me in and I'll come back!

The Monopoly

Hay Ya'awl,

If ewe is anything like me ya jist couldn't wait ta open yer Saturday junk mail taday and I'm shore glad I did! In the middle uv that now rubber banded stack was this year's ballot fer the Pouwk County Co-oped Electrical monopoly, strangley named, "Polk-Burnett".

If yer also liek me and have owned a house in that thare strangley named area, ya haven't seen an ownership rebate in the past 20 years or so from that co-oped monopoly in the form of a check.

The X box

Wa'ell low and bahold thare's a spot up fer election on that Monopoly's board of dye-rectors and with jist the one unresponsive comatosed Incombpetent re-runnin fer re-election unapposed!

Soes, I'ma excited ta announce my write in candidacy fer this hare open bored seat! Jist like Mayor Bloomberg, I'm forebearing any outside intrists dirdee money, and am financing my entire campaign, including payin up the nose fer my crack volunteer electoral staff, from what's left uv my minuative fortune from my recent attempt ta flee Wall Street.

The whole Shebang

Unlike the mayor, I ain't gonna attempt to nor portend it's my duty to change the electoral laws ta retain my position till I'm ready ta launch the next step ta expand my national kingdom. I'm jist gonna go down ta bookkeeping and aisk what's the holdup on gittin signatures and mailing all those
customer rebate checks?

English: New York City Mayor Mike Bloomberg with Spider-Man at Midtown Comics Downtown. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Soes when ya see this in yer Junk mail, open it up, douwn't jist throw it out. Put yer X in the box instead, fill in my name, thats spelled V. A.G. A. B O. N. D. T. E. D, sign it and send it right back on out.

I'll sit in that bored chair, I'll git some action otta thare committee, they'll start gittin those checks out, then I'll go fishin! You have my word as a new politrician on that!

Vagabond Ted

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A message from the Man Himself

2013-05-01T11:18:00.001-07:00

Mark Hovarth @hardlynormal at SOBCon 2011 (Photo credit: ShashiBellamkonda)

Hay Ya'awl,

Today's story is a plea from me, to help someone else realize, and acknowledge his dream. This story is also as real and true as they get. In fact, it's so real and true, you don't evun hafta take my word fer it, Ewe kin instead catch it fer yerself on Invisible People TV.

THE Storee:

+Mark Horvath has lived the American dream forwards, backwards, and inbetween and is now blazing forward, full speed ahead once again. His story is astonishing and his work is legendary to anyone who doesn't happen ta be a no-glance passerby. In 3 years he's had more impact raising the awareness of the Homeless crisis, then the impact of all the baby kissing from these past election cycles than the new Pope, old Pope, Mitt, and Bacharach combined!

The Message: (his personal plea)

More of the Storee:

Maria's former Ahhnold

He has also personally lifted as many of his and my friends from those dark forgotten alleys and from under the overpasses as anyone ever could, except maybe if Maria had caught Arnold 20 years ago and thus put her Conan to some useful, good Catholic penance work.

The video below that Mark is recommending is the best shot of really shining a spotlight on this Vagabond (Homeless) calamity, getting it in front of a national mainstream audience, on the 6 o'clock news, and may even be noteworthy enough to force a mention on unfairly imbalanced, Fox too.

The Video Campaign


Don't ya jist love print media and not havin ta listen ta this??

I've donated what I can to support this effort because I know first hand the misconception and blinded convenience conditioned into our 20 year upwardly mobile technological revolution and Clinton economic miracle society prior to the Bush frat party debacle and hangover sequel that even gave Bill O'Reilly a perennial migrane. So here is my personal plea to add to the chorus and a challenge to all readers, family, former friend or foe, to please read below and RESPOND to this!

The Vagabond Ted Manure Gloves Off Challenge:

If'n I kin git the sum total from all my loyal readers, as well as those secretionally reedin this posting from my group uv Anonymous better than art thous still hiding bahind that narcissistic scum sucking leech's butt, ta contribute a mere $1 in total ta each of my last dimes ($25), I'll take the summer crash coarse frum that thare writtin correspond-dence school Ima tryin ta git back into and quit a'writtin liek this!

Periodista Anderson Cooper rescate nino haitiano (Photo credit: Remolacha.net pics)

HELL, I'll even volunteer ta designate my Anderson Cooper Priced Watersports House of Accountancy firm ta tally the pitchin in, in confidentiul reality. After they're dun toilin in complete obscurity, I'll evun record the video uv them prancin right in front uv the camera cross the stage ta expect an award and report ta ya'awl the total received, along with the proper four hundred and twenty, 401(c) forms ya'awl will bea needing to avoid a friendly IRS raid! (I already know this ain't gonna make that thare awards show and the only way I could git the Anderson Cooper Priced Watersports bois ta dew the countin was ta promise I'd record their prance).

Now, how's that fer the deal from my lifetime disgraced, as yer favorite disguarded face, from the one and only insanely original,

Vagabond Ted?

The Art of Survival vs.Dee Agony of Dee Deal

2013-04-23T15:46:00.000-07:00

Homeless Near the Lilies of Balboa Park (Photo credit: peasap)

Hay Ya'awl,


Sun of my Dreams R Philip Duke *

Isn't it great that in these inside out times whare most peoples eyes are glued ta their fantasies of islands whare studio-screened screaming contestants vying ta pretend ta be barely surviving by ignoring the trays of subways, snacks, and bottled water jist off camera, all the while looking directly at ya thru the lens, after jist gittin their hair and makeup dun did ta make it look like they're societee outcasts actin surprised they're cast wayout on some fantasy island and all, that we still have real stories of professional real survivors occuring Every Day and ya don't even hafta pay those unreal cable bills ta watch? On top of that, it's available completely free 24*7 in realtime in Every Major Down-Town City, U.S. uv A.!

In that real world of Real Survivors:

From a very different perspective I use these terms lightly, "oasis es" and "paradises" in describing places like this one, Sisters of the Road that have arisen in the outskirts next to the silver spooned ass(shh!) of the rubble noted below, for those we've still left out there, surviving as society castaways (not bottle watered crewmembers), and have been for 30 years.


Jeannie Lawer Sisters of the Road Curator (photo courtesy AP)

They are there everyday toiling and patiently waiting to inspire the minds back from comatosed, so they can return and instill the hearts back into the many, by freely sharing their lifework, passion and commitment as they continue to tend these discarded souls.

Here's just one of their many services recently noted, that if you let it will truly inspire, and help to once again free and lift your soul: The Art of a Survivor

Meanwhile back at the forced injection of unreality, mainlined via "Reality" TV:

The apprentice anti-hero of a celebrity real estate magnet, born from and into a silver spoon designed to feed fish shit named Caviar, hereditarily stuck perennially unwashed into his mouth, builds upon society's misfortune of that inherited fortune by using that spoonful of fish shit to grease city council members in THE fictional Metropolis cement city, into giving him the exclusive redevelopment rights for thee most opportunistically affordable areas. Those same opportunistic areas just happened to be where the heroes of our story, professional real world long time survivors, once were able to eek out a living and thus live. Unfortunately since all those areas have been systemically turned into high rise condos and office buildings that only those with said silver spoons hereditarily inserted can afford, that's also where the realtime 24*7 harsh cold reality and survival drama origins unfolded to begin.

Meanwhile Back in the Real World Reality of real Survivors:

Fast forward now and those long term reality, not drama TV one episode survivors, some now displaced going on 20 to 30 years, have adapted by hiding or sleeping during the daytime, and scrounging for inedible nutrients in the trashtime called nighttime where the reality TV junkies still comatosed into automatically watching as this self described, made-knot man, "celebrity" (quite mildly used) apprentice, continues his charade deemed to be reality and Ca,Ching! continually cashes in. His now double spooned silver offspring at his side, manicured and harmoneously crowing the praise of their daddy in his very own scripted words and language, just so that self description can continue to constantly spew forth about THE ALL in his mind, that he is! The eyes of the massses stay glued and the saga of cycles of also-es repeat and continue........ Can you believe we continue to just be comato-selly expected in reality to REALLY, just believe ALL THIS??????

* Moral of Today's Story

From first hand experience and highly recommended, it really is quite easy and enjoyable to help out. Take a stroll to any downtown where the ash did, but rubble didn't go, and drop by any of the many, Sisters of the Road. Enjoy one of their fabulous and packed lunches or breakfast, mingle and get to know any of theirs and mine, many friends. Maybe you'll meet one of the priceless and proud Artists who's work they would love to display, like I just happened, ta dun did. The pic of the painting above, signed and titled by R. Philip Duke, was sold to me at deal of a lifetime price of $10 so at the time of descending cold dusk in Seattle, he could afford to get a bite to eat. As I walked away he also told me that underneath was a second painting he even more cherished, as my gift. I have yet to disassemble to view the surprise beneath as I'm still humbled by my first of his priceless originals, adorned prominently in the taken for granted dining room of any Homed, that for me now once again, newly exists.

Vagabond Ted

Epilog:

I wunder how long the massively voted upon American Idol Apprentice Biggest Loser from Fantasy Island Survivor could actually survive against a 30 year veteran real world survivalist on the streets left by society to them to figure out how they'll exist? Anyone know a blowhard ass(shh)ened Hollywood producer type sporting a really bad haircut, who'd have the balls to step forward and actually produce a reality show based in real world reality set in the actual environment where real caring human beings are just left for 30 years to survive like this?

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Tales from along the Homeless Trail

Love Envelope

In today’s world

“Kristi, thanks for everything you have done for me. Love you always. Stan”

“Thank you for your lovely note and for making my day”.

Stan, thanks for everything you have done for me. Love you always.

Vagabond 9-1-1 Remembrance

Hay Ya'awl,

making sure this young hero is at Oprah's dinner table for Christmas breakfast.

Zeus and Xenon

Hay Ya'awl,

Phoenix

Zeus and Xenon: Warrior Prince and Princess

Warrior Collars for a Warrior Cause

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I’ve Got Your Back

That's Another Story

"I've got your back."

Daniel

is traveling right now on the train

Welcome Home

One day last year

Sunday Family Sunday Specially

Hay Ya'awl,

Back in my day,,,

Write Me In!

Write me in and I'll come back!

Hay Ya'awl,

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A message from the Man Himself

THE Storee:

More of the Storee:

The Video Campaign

The Vagabond Ted Manure Gloves Off Challenge:

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The Art of Survival vs.Dee Agony of Dee Deal

Hay Ya'awl,

In that real world of Real Survivors:

Meanwhile back at the forced injection of unreality, mainlined via "Reality" TV:

Meanwhile Back in the Real World Reality of real Survivors:

* Moral of Today's Story

Epilog:

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