Tag Archives: Dispossessed

The Road to 65, Mile 87: Choices

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

February 23, 2015, Prescott- When I was deep in mourning, and on the road, one of my closest friends reminded me that everything one does, regardless of circumstances, is the consequence of choice. I got a call, this morning, at 5:47, from one of the districts for which I work.  I was not quite able to wrap my head around getting it together, and opted for a bit more sleep.  On days like this, I am well aware of the consequence, both immediate and down the road.  So have I learned to not blame others for much of anything.

Ann Landers once said, “No one can take advantage of you, without your permission”.  How true, and how often disconcerting. One must have clear boundaries.  The people we let into our lives are going to have expectations and are going to pursue agendas, which may or may not be in keeping with our own goals and plans.  It is up to each of us, whether to play a particular game, or opt out.

Without making conscious choices, a life gets bogged down and the person living it, dependent, bitter and often self-harming.  I have known many, besides myself, who defer decisions, based on excuses and the notion that “Conditions aren’t quite right”. Conditions will never be just so!

The other “tool” that the takers of this world employ, all too well, is guilt.  I have learned to sleep very well at night, doing what I can for the dispossessed and others in need, without going so far as to put myself among their number, through reckless spending at the loud insistence of guilt-mongers.

There is simply no substitute for taking responsibility for one’s own actions and beliefs.

The Road to 65, Mile 83: Purging

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Posted by on in Social

February 19, 2015, Prescott- 

The calls resumed even before I reached the El Paso city limits.  Neediness knows few boundaries, in its self-perceived desperation.  I bought some assurance of being left alone, so as to continue my drive in concentration and in peace.

I realize that I do not want a constant presence in my life that sucks that life out of me.  I do not want someone in my business, constantly.  I do not want to be tethered, or bled financially, drop by drop.  My involvement in dealing with the dispossessed can’t be of such a form as to make me one of them.  We all have a part to play in ending homelessness, but the solution can’t be piecemeal and it can’t be of such pressure tactics on individuals like me, as to breed resentment.

I feel tense, and a bit angry, at having to fend off constant requests for money- which I have to make last, a long time, ( thus my propensity for eating sparingly,for keeping my energy costs low, and, when traveling, for staying in cheap motels in winter, and campgrounds in warmer weather).  Housing people in my apartment is forbidden by my landlord, and I am obedient to the terms of my lease.

On the other hand, when those who claim to be serving veterans and other homeless people adopt a piecemeal, almost capricious approach to service, enticing groups of men to their shelter and then staying closed in cold weather, they leave the people with no choice but to find abandoned homes, sleep in the forest, or in storage units, of all things.  Utah offers small houses to their homeless, taking people off the streets and storefronts.

Thankfully, the local Interfaith Council has a meeting on this subject next month.  I will encourage as many of the people who approach me for what I don’t have to give, to show up, presentably, at this meeting and at Prescott City Council meetings, and speak respectfully and as eloquently as possible, on what the current non-system of dealing with this issue is doing to the entire community.

We cannot continue,as a society, to think that putting people on buses out of town or merely thinking they will dry up and float away, will purge the issue from our midst.  Quite the contrary, the numbers of dispossessed will only grow, as long as the issue is ignored.  I know this, because I housed as many as ten people, over a three year period, when we lived in Phoenix.