BROKEN WINDOWS

Streetpuppies roll in from so many strata of society -social, economic, ethnic, cultural, - it's hard to track the actual path into and out of their place in Homeless Nation.

There are no geneological or biological or DNA or genome hints as to the heriditary nature of the state of homelessness.

However, we have thought of one marker which can tell the whole story with one look.

Broken windows.

Every Streetpuppy has broken windows. 

Broken windows through what slipped that part of their life which led them onto the path right to the front door of Homeless Nation.

Whether the windows were broken by economic, social, cultural, financial, or mental troubles or disparities, they shattered and let  the  unfiltered, harsh light  of the reality of hard times into a life.

One of the problems with broken windows, is that they attract more broken windows, since, people will tend to break a window which already has one shattered pane....what's the harm of breaking the pane next to it? 

Especially people who are being paid to fix the broken windows, the thinking being, 'if this window gets fixed, I don't get paid to fix anymore windows.' 

Or, even better -or worse -spread some litter on the ground around  the broken windows so as to make a complete picture of utter carelessness and destruction which has led to the breakdown of an entire structure...or person. The thinking being, 'may as well, spread the responsibility, and the bucks paid for fixing this person, and it may take a long time to do it.'

Now, you can't really 'fix' a broken window.  Unless it's in a car, and that's a whole different story.

You can replace a broken window, but you cannot fix a broken window.

And you need to replace a broken window as soon as possible, in order to prevent the harsh light of those realities of hard times into a  life.

And to prevent the accumulation of litter and more broken windows which always follow the breaking of just one window.

And that means, that the work must start very early in life. 

All this to say, the majority of Streetpuppies are probably way past the age of being 'fixed.'

All of the social agencies, agencies, officials and politicians and do-gooders need to shift their efforts
to preventing broken windows, not fixing them.

And that's not going to happen.

Thus, every Streetpuppy has to look at his/her own broken windows, which have probably accumalated a lot of accompanying litter -such as broken bottles, smashed beer cans, crack pipes, and pill bottles -and replace those windows.

Replace those windows which resulted in a damaged soul reeling from the on set of all of the harsh realities of hard times, with faith and courage and hard work. 

What a task, you say.

And it certainly is.  And the sooner you get started, the better.

Start with all of the accompanying litter of the broken bottles, smashed beer cans, crack pipes and pill bottles.

It could be the beginning of the path out of Homeless Nation.

FOOD GROUPS FOR STREETPUPPIES

The USDA does not have diplomatic relations with Homeless Nation.

We mean to take that up with our own diplomatic relations office.  As soon as they get out of jail for trespassing on your porch.

In the meantime,  seeing as how we cannot communicate with the USDA, and bowing to increasing pressure from hospital ER's, free clinics, the local 7-11  owner who has far too much merchandise swiped from his counters by Streetpuppies, and people just tired of looking at their local panhandler who is usually emaciated, we have put our heads together to come up with dietary guidelines for Streetpuppies so that we can all eat better, feel better, look better, and stop swiping food from the local 7-11.

Now, at the top of the food group list, we are going to include all of the things one finds on the USDA pyramid (see above) and lump it into one group.

DUMPSTER DIVING.    Yes, you can find all of those pyramid foods in any dumpster. Especially behind restaurants, and in the alleys behind the houses of the middle and upper middle class.  However, you need to check the expiration dates.  If there is no such date on the food you find in that ratty old dumpster, just smell it.  If the aroma doesn't knock you on your butt, it's ok.  Also, watch out for anything that is green, and make sure that it is naturally green and not covered with mold. Mold is not a food group except for other molds.  Ditto for gray.

NASTY BOLOGNA SANDWICHES.  They are plentiful and easily recognizable as they all come in little brown paper bags given out at every feed and sometimes just randomly on the street from some well meaning citizen who is feeling guilty about something and goes into his kitchen to make something nice for the little homeless people.  Usually  they have little pieces of mystery cheese sticking out the sides.  Now, take that sandwich, stick it in your backpack, let it simmer a few days until the bologna curls up outside the bread. Yum.

TOBASCO SAUCE.  Take it along with you to every feed.  And slather it onto every dish you eat there.  It will enable you to swallow the stinkiest and runniest casserole there, and it is a natural germ killer so it is a great help in keeping you out of the ER with a savage case of food poisoning.  Also put it on the bologna sandwich...for the same reason.

POTATO  CHIPS AND FRITOS.  We lumped these two into one group because when your swiping them from the 7-11, you're usually moving so fast it is hard to distinguish between the two gaily colored packages.  Chips will hold you over until the next nasty bologna sandwich.  In fact, save some of them until you eat that next  nasty sandwich, and put them on top of the bologna and cheese and and tobasco. 

BEER.  Oh, come on now. Surely you have heard all of the rumors of people panhandling for beer.  They're true, and for good reason.  First, the beer takes the pressure of feeling lost and alone and hungry right away, and replaces those feelings with a warm buzz which spreads all through your body and makes you think you are king of the world, and what the hell about your phone being turned off, and losing your shoes last night, and having a a savage case of savage food poisoning,and all that, who cares...you have...BEER!

ASPIRIN.  You're gong to need it to take care of that headache you got from all that beer last night.

However, given your current diet, you will probably have developed an ulcer, and aspirin is a no no for an ulcer, so you're out of luck, unless you don't mind if your stomach is being eaten away.

On second thought, maybe that's a good idea.  No stomach.  No food groups required.  No problem.

Bon Appetit!

BLENDING IN

You wanted to stand out at your college graduation.  You wanted to be a visual marvel at your wedding.  Or mirage, whatever the case may be with your current marital situation after that marvelous appearance. 

And you needed to stand out when you were scurrying your way up the ladder of promotions at whatever job you got kicked out of before you landed here in Homeless Nation.

Two places you don't want to stand out in.  A police line-up and Homeless Nation.

 In a police line-up, you want to disappear, but  In Homeless Nation, you  not only do not want to stand out,  You want to blend in.

You'll blend well  enough in the Nation because while you are around a few hundred other people who are in the same neighborhood where it would be difficult to distinguish from sight, smell or feel one street puppy from the other. 

That is, unless, you have a street puppy who is actually lying down on the street, which is a common sight in many street puppy neighborhoods, commonly known as puppy hoods...or poopie hoods if there is a nearby bar or convenience which sells beers by the can.

Now, Street Puppy is going to help you to fix yourself up so that, in the event you want to venture out of the hood for a quick two-dollar cup of coffee, or a real hot dog, or an actual drink in a bar which serves booze by the glass, or just to see what it feels like to be out in the real world where people do not case every house they walk by to figure out if there is sleeping room in the back garden or under the porch.

First of all.  Lose the ski cap. 

It's a dead give-away especially if it is the middle of June and everybody around you is sweltering, and the minute a civilian sees a ski cap, they think...burglar, car-jacker, homeless creep who will pick my pocket.

Second.  Ditto the hoody.  Maybe we should have put that first because Street Puppy has actually seen grown women...and men...yelp and run the other way when they see anybody approaching them who is wearing a hoody. 

The bearer of the hoody could be two years old and in a stroller, or eighty and on a walker, doesn't matter, the public has been conditioned to equate a hoody with bad people, bad karma, bad mojo and usually a knock on the head to get your attention long enough to know the wearer of the hoody is serious about giving up that wallet of yours.

Third.  The back pack.  If you haven't learned by now that back packs scream for attention on the back of anybody other than a college student or an eagle scout, then you have no understanding at all of the wardrobe protocol as it relates to how much you can tote on your body without falling on your face.

And damm near every Street Puppy wears one of those things and they are usually dirty and stinky and falling apart.  Find a nice bush to stow it in and fill up your pockets with only the essentials for a few hours while you make your trek out of the Nation.

Make sure that you wear pants that actually fit, same with shoes, and even if you have to wash it in the sink at Walgreens make sure the shirt is clean.

Wash your hair and fingernails, and your face.  Vigorously.  A good scrub gives a rosy glow which will last long enough that people may think you have spent the afternoon sunning yourself at the top floor pool in your condo building.

Throw a sweater around a neck and let the arms dangle a bit, preferably a cashmere number from the heap at the church give away. 

That alone will give you enough of a preppy appearance, maybe even Euro-trash look so that you can safely meander around any neighborhood or even a mall where the price of a shirt in any store starts at 200 bucks.

The only accessory you should wear or carry is a belt.  Preferably to wear not to carry. 

What we are trying to say here is don't even think about toting a cane you use to help you along with that limp you developed after the third fall down running from the po po, or that fight at the feed.

Something about a cane makes people nervous, and maybe nervous enough for them to take a second look, just long enough to discern that you are indeed an interloper, and Gawd forbid...maybe one of those homeless freaks.

Last, but not least.  Trim the nose hairs.  People who live in homes have appliances to take care of those things.  You don't, and we don't want you to blow the whole picture here by continually reaching up your nostril to pick out one of those things.

These are simple things, but easy to do, and if you master the art of blending in well enough, who knows, one day you may even fool yourself so much into thinking that you are blending in to the real world that you will just walk right out and keep on going.

Leave the ski cap and the hoody behind.

ENTITLEMENTS R US

One thing good about being a Street Puppy is that, yes, at last, you are entitled.

And that means you are eligible to receive gifts, stipends, loans, free stuff, government money and all things which will come your way because you have no place to live, or shower, or watch TV.

In fact, you may say, from the time you hit the street with your backpack, "What's mine is mine,  and what's yours is mine."

Be careful about this gimme, buy me, take me stuff, you may end up, like so many Street Puppies do, getting so used to being on the receiving line of a lot of entitlements that you grow to be very comfortable with just sitting around and letting the world decide your fate for the price of a two-dollar used shirt, and some funky food and a whole lot of small bottles filled with shampoo or body lotion.

Or the pitiful sum that you would receive by selling your food stamps (which is actually a card) for half of the value in order to buy beer, potato chips, a pint of vodka, and/or one of those illegal substances from a Mr. Jit, which will keep you so stoned, that all you can do until you receive the next food stamp deposit is lurch from one free 'feed' to another, and visit all of those free giveaway clothing and hygiene items to replenish your own supply each time you fall asleep on a corner you are so polluted and somebody takes all of your 'stuff.'

It happens.  Frequently.

Then there's the big Kahuna of entitlement, the disability check.  The once a month bonus for whatever it is that ails you to the point that you cannot work.

Streetpuppy has seen many another Streetpuppy lie and con and cheat their way into subsidy heaven, and all for the huge profit of $700 or so bucks a month, give or take a quarter.

Now, that may seem like a lot of money, and to a frugal and fiscally conservative person it would be.  That amount, along with the food stamp money would be enough to enable you to live, if not comfortably, at least not hungry and/or cold and with proper protection against the outdoor weather even if you cannot afford a home.

Alas.  Many Streetpuppys who get that combo of disability check and food stamp money...and darn...don't you know it would all come on the same day in most cases, run off to the nearest motel for the instant gratification of spending one whole week in a crappy room crawling with bed bugs, and run the TV day and night, not hearing it all because they are so whacked out on the 18 packs of Nasty Ice beer and pints of vodka they drag into the room day after day from the convenience store next door which is the only store they can stagger to when the supply of booze runs out.

Usually a quantity of drugs is involved in this hiatus from the street, too so by the time a week has passed, you are not only exhausted from all that walking to the store for the 18 pack, you're still stoned and hung over. 

And broke.

So, it's back to the 'feeds.'  The free clothing giveaways.  The mooching cigarettes and quarters from everybody you know, and a whole lot of strangers who are so put off by your appearance ---you probably forgot to shave that whole week in the motel -- they only give you the quarter so you will take your smelly self away from them.

And back to, maybe stealing a few things along the way to keep that beer and vodka and cigarette and drug money rolling in until the next check and food stamps.

Things like other people's money and belongings.

One of the more frustrating things about Homeless Nation is the utter lack of respect many Streetpuppies show to their fellow puppies.

These particular Streetpuppies will smile into your face then rip off everything you have...usually when you are sleeping. 

Basically, they would give you the shirt off your own back.  And do, regularly.

You're not a mongrel.  You're a Streetpuppy.  Act like one. 

Take that next check and food stamp card and actually use it to buy decent clothing, save to rent a modest room somewhere, and buy something good to eat, like fresh fruit and vegetables.

Do this because you are not entitled to lie and cheat and steal in order to survive.

You are entitled to use the system in order to help you, not hold on to you forever.

Learn to be on the street, but not of the street.

NIGHT

You dread it.  You long for it. 

When it arrives, whether it falls softly, drifting along soon after the golden hour, or swiftly, wrapped in a sudden burst of wind and rain, you welcome it and give yourself up to it for the few short hours you can embrace the cover and the silence of the night.

With the night, comes sleep, however fitful.  And for any street puppy, the sleep is the healer, the balm, the respite from the day's cares and worries and wounds and aches both physical and psychic.

Now, the key word here is sleep.  And you need it.  You've been walking - sometimes running - about all the day, and you probably don't have enough nutrition to keep the nagging body working right, so sleep should fill that gap, that need to regenerate.

Where you are sleeping is not important, and if you're like most street puppies, your boudoir, or what passes for it will change regularly, if not frequently, as it should, especially if you are sleeping sans companion(s).

Keep your head about you, and remember to do that, change your sleeping spot regularly.  Vary your route  and travel hour to and fro, and do not tell anybody where you are located.  And that means even your best friend in Homeless Nation. 

Word gets around, and somebody out there -friend or foe - will get the idea in their head that night is the best time for them to replenish their own supplies, under cover of the darkness, and using the stealth they have acquired to take the  very shoes and socks from somebody's feet without making a sound, or even a motion. 

Shoes and socks and other things, including your life.

Which is why a street puppy's sleep is fitful.  You won't get a full night of it, unless you had too much tequila and pass out.  On the average, a street puppy's sleeping time comes in blocks of an hour or so of what can only be described as 'sleeping with one eye open.'  And both ears tuned to the slightest movement anywhere around you.

You will develop both of these  abilities quickly.  If you don't, you may just as well fall out under the brightest street light available and post a sign reading, "Hey!  I'm really stupid, take all of my stuff, then beat me up."

Take careful note of some things which will be a pain in the butt, and probably disrupt an entire night.

Sprinklers.  Ant hills.  Bull frogs that leap about on your face.  Ant hills.  Thorns embedded in otherwise benign looking bushes.  People who are way too friendly and would like to walk with you on your journey to the spot.

Pack a flashlight, preferably one of those nifty small thingys.  You'll need it to tell time, and to find that cigarette lighter you keep dropping onto the ground.

Don't advertise your presence.  No music, and don't even think about plugging earphones into your ears, you need to be able to hear anything -repeat that- anything that moves about around you.

Be respectful.  Wherever you are bedded is probably somebody's private property and if you're smart..and respectful, you will want to make it seem as though you weren't even there. Thus, no wrappers, napkins, pop top cans, or evidence of making potty.  Ahem.

And be an early riser.  The police usually drop by, if they're going to drop by just before dawn, because they want to catch you sleeping so that you can't say, "Officer, I'm just down here looking for my dad's wristwatch, he gave it to me just before he died."

Get used to rising before the sun, collecting your few belongings you have brought with you, which should be at the most, a very modest sleeping bag or a couple of light blankets, don't be a pit about it and making up a bed which would make Martha Stewart proud, you'll only be conspicuous and you won't be able to pick up and run real fast with all of that Martha stuff hanging around your ankles.

Eventually, you'll get the hang of it.  And soon you'll be able to survive with just a few hours of light snoozing and a few cat naps during the day. 

And don't mind the bull frogs, when they land on your face, they're just on their way to somewhere else.

Probably their own place to spend the night.

RE - ENTRY FROM THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON

It was the last time at the rodeo.

It is a fait accompli.

Ring the bell.  Close the book.  Extinguish the candle.

It's a wrap.  Strike the set.

Oh, the many ways can one describe the ending of an era, and  re-entry into a life interrupted.

How about likening the re-entry to the story of the Apollo 13 mission?

You remember the Tom Hanks version.  There they were, three astronauts in space, just minding their own business, which was a trip to the moon, in a vehicle that looked like an inverted pyramid with a riding mower thing trailing along behind.

And....and....BANG!  "Houston, we have a problem."

And then the hearts pounding part, and the breathless part, and the scrambling part and the throwing all the  things on the table and Gene, the mission control guy says, "This is what we got to get these guys back."

And the things they had were the entire contents of everybody's lunch bags.

Or something like that.

Anyway, there they were,  the three astronauts just minding their own business, and the guys at mission control cleaning their finger nails. All of a sudden things changed and everybody on the Earth knew their  business, and the guys at mission control were biting their fingernails, and  knowing there was no way back. 

And the guys on the spacecraft which somebody had thoughtfully named Apollo 13 for heaven's sake were all alone up there and they were running out of oxygen, and then they went to the dark side of the moon.

And for a while, nobody knew if they were still in the inverted pyramid thing, or stuck sitting on the riding mower, thing or splat, somewhere on that big ole' orb which looks an awful lot like a big moldy cheeseball.

Then, they emerged from the dark side of the moon, and then they flew back with the help of all those fingernail-less guys at mission control who had figured out, with the help of the contents of their lunch bags, how to get them to within a mile of New York City in time for that big confetti parade.

Exciting stuff if you were watching the movie. 

Pure hell if you were living it. 

And this, this Homeless Nation thing hasn't been any picnic either.

But , like Apollo 13, and that Lost in Space story, it has been an adventure, lived either minute by minute, or week by week, with that heart pounding, that fingernail biting, that sitting on the edge kind of adrenaline pump wondering if the things you have in your lunch bag will be enough to bring you back home

Or will that trip around the dark side of the moon -or into Homeless Nation - be the sling shot force that will send you spinning out of control into space for all eternity....or until the oxygen runs out.

Kind of a Zen thing. To be on the street, but not of the street.  

Chop wood.  Carry water as the Buddah said.

There are so many memories it is impossible to remember them.  (My turn to emulate Yogi Berra)

There are so many people it is hard to remember them.  Except for the great ones.  And I do.

There are so many secrets that will never be told about the dark side of the moon.

So many lessons, and revelations and and heart aches and laughs and wonderment and angst and grief and puzzlement all wrapped up in one  orb like big old moldy cheeseball thing.

So, let's keep this brief.  Before I get all teary eyed and my makeup drips down my nose.

Always remember, the past is not always  prolog.

And the number one lesson Streetpuppy will take away from Homeless Nation: 

There's no such thing as a free haircut.

                                                                        -30-

STRONG AT THE BROKEN PLACES

The world breaks everyone.
And afterward, some are strong
at the broken places.
              Earnest Hemingway, "For Whom The Bell Tolls"


Perhaps you believe that life in Homeless Nation does not make a change in the phyche of a Streetpuppy.

And if you believe that, then you have not lived here, and are only reading this because you are interested in how Streetpuppies really do live, or you downloaded the wrong column onto your Amazon kindle. or you googled 'puppy' because it is time to give your two year old  kid something to do that will build character.

Or you may believe that living in Homeless Nation , and navigating all of the perils and ill will and savagry and heartache here will build one's character.

Au contraire. Living in Homeless Nation will reveal  one's character. But nothing that happens to a Street Puppy in Homeless Nation will help to build their character. 

One's character is pretty much wired in by the time one has navigated the other heartaches and perils in life, like getting through the first broken romance, without chewing off your own eyebrows, or deciding what you really want to do with your life that your parents don't want you to do, and then doing it, come hell or high water, or wasting a lot of money on some foolish piece of automobile, then realizing you really don't care for the kind of women who are primarily interested in your car, and then doing something about it, like  selling the spicy money trap and buying a beater and saying,'to hell with it, it's just a car.'

Those life trials, and others like them build character, and by the time you've hit Homeless Nation, you are probably old enough to have had the rite of passage through just about every seemingly earth shaking event that stands in your way to Nirvana.

And how one handles the truly life shaking events which will occur in your time in Homeless Nation will not only reveal your character to yourself and to others, but will determine how you come out at the other end of the journey.

So, let's say you have built up some character in your life account.

You had a master plan and it seemed to be working before you got here, and now the whole world fell onto your head, and a lot of things in your life are broken.

You will be tempted to succumb to the most devious and harmful and spiteful ways to navigate through the Nation, they will, be the seemingly easiest and fastest way out of it. 

And you will observe that so many of the residents of Homeless Nation use those devious and harmful and spiteful ways to navigate through the Nation, and then you will notice that those ways don't seem to be getting them out of it.

So you don/t go that route.

You stick it out, and you are honest and you avoid the drug and alcohol trap and you don't steal even if your life seems to depend upon it.  And you don't hurt anybody for the sake of building your own ego. Or betray the few real friends you may make here.

But.

You have been damaged.  No doubt about it, the experience of Homeless Nation will bruise your very soul.

You have been broken, and eventually, the bone of life will grow over that wound and whatever part of you that broke under the sometimes unbearable pressures here, will stand up to future assaults in the same place.

No, you will never be the same person.

You will be the person who has learned that nothing in life is certain, including life itself.

And that knowledge alone will make each and every day after the experience in Homeless Nation priceless, and worth the price of the ticket you punched to get here.

And who ever told you that giving a two-year old a puppy would help to build his or her character???