Homelessness for Stupid People
The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...
I worked today. Did a job for Butch, a
guy who goes to our church, tying down a floor that creaked in a new
office he's setting up. Made a little cash, got tired. Good, honest
labour. I love it. Anyone afraid to do a little hard work is afraid
of life.
I worked yesterday as well, though I
wouldn't exactly call it work. I played gopher for Master Craftsman
Bob Adams. That in and of itself is a treat. When I say Bob is a
master craftsman, I mean you probably won't find someone able to
produce more beautiful works of art in wood as him in the Valley.
I'm fond of telling people how his daughter would pull pages out of a
catalogue or magazine of some fancy piece of oddly shaped furniture,
hand it to Bob and say “Daddy, can you make this for me?” And he
DOES! At the end of the day Butch asked me if I wanted to work on
the floor, and I yes... so there I was...
Anyway, today also happens to be
Wednesday, and that means showers over at Asbury Church on East
Avenue. That's great, I expected to be done by three, and make it
there with plenty of time to get my shower. That was the plan
anyway.
Unfortunately, the plan is never the
plan. God always has other plans, and today was no different. The
single battery I had for the screw gun ran out at exactly 11am.
Crap! I was two thirds done, having worked on it about two and a
half hours. I had no idea how long it would take to charge, but I was
not optimistic. It was an el-cheapo craftsman job and I expected it
would take a while. So I called Butch, left him a message that I was
going to high tail it over to Asbury, get a shower, come back and
finish the job. I was still pretty confident I'd get it done before
three.
So, the place is on Murrietta and
Holmes, I high tail it down Fourth Street and East Avenue and arrive
there about twenty past eleven. (oh, and just so everyone knows, the
Holmes family and the Holm family: NOT the same family!)
I get there and my buddy Nick runs up
to me and tells me Adam Parris is there! YAY! Flipped my phone
open, made the call... and the man slinks away and back under
whatever rock he's been hiding... Gotta love having Police Dispatch
on Speed Dial...
As Donna McKenzie peaked out the door,
which was still locked, I ran up and told her I was on a deadline to
get back and needed to be at the head of the line.
Well, Shower Nazi Doug was going to be
running the showers for Johnny DeLaRosa (who'd be a little late), and
he was NOT happy with me.
“You pull anything like that at
Vineyard and I'll bounce you to the back of the line!”
I love Doug. He has a very well
defined sense of right and wrong. Gotta love a guy who knows about
these things.
I did try to explain to him that I
would never do such a thing without his permission, but that I truly
needed to get back not later than one, and if I had to wait for a
shower, I probably wouldn't get one today.
Just an aside, this is one of the
reasons I want so much to talk to the folks at Saffron Strand. One
of the things with showers for the homeless is this: if you have a
job, forget it! You're S.O.L. And have to fend for yourself.
Showers are 7-11am Mondays, Noon to 6pm Wednesdays, and 9-11am
Fridays. That's it. If you have a day job... buy a membership at 24
hour fitness. Nevermind that they no longer have one that can be got
to without a car. I really want to know how Saffron Strand deals
with these things. I can't imagine a bunch of homeless people
working in their offices that stink to high heaven...
Anyway, I did get my shower, got back
to the job site, finished the job, and walked away satisfied I'd done
it well (though there's still some creaking in one spot I just
couldn't seem to fix...) Oh well... nobody's perfect... especially
not me...
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