DREAMS AND DUSTBINS

Dreams and vanities come to dust in Homeless Nation. Gone in a puff of primordial vapor.
Something bad happened. Whether it was a long, slow, steady descent, or a swift series of unforeseen and chaotic events, your world rocked, you forgot to duck, and you ended up here on the other side of the tracks.

It could have been a restive marriage ending in a colorful divorce which left you with nothing but a six pack to drown your sorrows. A taste for luxuries which you could not afford, a grinding dead end job which, finally just didn't bring in enough money to support you and your family. The economy went south, you got a DUI which meant you couldn't drive the 18-wheeler anymore, some lousy banker talked you into buying a house you couldn't afford....he knew that, and if there is any justice, he'll probably end up here, too....and you lost the house, everything in it ended up on the street and got wet in the hurricane that came along just then. You gambled away your rent payments and the kid's college funds and your wife threw you out; You were downsized, outsourced, laid off, or just plain fired . You drank too much, you used drugs and got arrested....a few times.

You got sick and lost your job at the same time, so you lost your insurance and now have a mountain of hospital bills and no money, and no prospects for a job for a very long time... you were snookered into thinking you had a rightful piece of the action sitting there in your back pocket, and then that rich guy company executive plundered your pension fund and ran off to some fancy tropical island with his girlfriend.

It doesn't really matter how it happened. You're here in Homeless Nation. You're here, and all of your dreams, are sitting in that dustbin over there. No steady job; no retirement to look forward to, no college educations for the kids, no house, no car, not too much food around, and some days not enough pocket change to buy a cup of coffee or a pack of cigarettes. You can't afford to get sick, you don't have insurance anymore. You haven't washed for three days, your clothes look like crap and your shoes don't fit right. And, oh yeah, there goes the political career.

Is it the end of human knowledge as you know it? Nope. That's the Mayan calendar thing. Which means you still have a couple of years to get it together before the pole shift, or the comet or the solar flare or that kookie North Korean with the Nucs gets us all.
Start easy. Sit down. Take a deep breath. Now, repeat after me:
"I MAY BE HOMELESS......BUT I AM ...SOMEBODY."

And don't forget that. Ever. And stick with the Streetpuppies, we'll show ya the way.