Two Days in The Jungle: Part V

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

“That's not very smart,” said the man. It was a soft voice but filled with authority. I opened my eyes and looked up to see a very fit looking man dressed all in black. Black Jeans, Black Jacket (leather, I think) black boots, black bandanna over his head. In his hand a machete was pointed at the two or three crumpled dollar bills next to my head on my tarp.

I perched myself up on one elbow.

“What's your name?” I asked.

“It's not a good idea to leave money laying around like that,” he said.

“It's just a couple of bucks,” I said. “I'm not worried about it. What's your name?”

“You're Christian, right?” he asked, and I nodded. “I'm Indio.”

He he reached in under the shrubbery where I lay and offered his hand, which I took.

“I heard you're responsible for getting this place cleaned up,” I said.

Indio didn't flinch. “We help each other,” he said simply.

“Have this gentleman bring you to my camp site,” Indio said, nodding toward Dee's camp site. “I'd like to talk to you.”

Looking back, I know that he had been aware of my presence within minutes of my arrival. And looking back, Indio was as a wolf circling me, keeping tabs, never a threat, but never welcoming either till this very moment, when he decided that, if I were some kind of threat, I was a manageable one. I was in his territory, after all.

Okay... it took fifty years of living, but that was my first ever Clint Eastwood moment... I'll have to ask God why I haven't had one of those before. Oh, and by the way, I swear I've taken no dramatic licence here. It happened exactly as I've told it.

I checked my phone. It was just 7AM. Good time to get up. I packed my gear into my satchel and walked around to the front of Dee's camp site, and my eyes grew wide.

Dee had worked all day yesterday in what had appeared to me to be a fruitless effort to get his camp site secure. It had been messy and disorganized. Now, it was clean, raked, the tarp was over the top of the double tents and the tarp-grocery cart barrier was established. Had it not been for the torn tent, and quality of the tarps, you'd have sworn it was the kind of camp site you'd find out at any recreational area. To say I was impressed would have been a terrible understatement. It was more like awe.

He'd secured Connie's tent, and tidied that up as well in her absence in spite of the volatile drama between them the night before.

“Dee,” I called. “You awake, man?”

He did not answer, so I figured he was probably asleep. I have no idea how he managed to get this done before I woke up. There certainly wasn't much daylight to work with... maybe an hour and a half from about 5:30...

I traipsed off and shuffled down to Walmart, hit McDonalds in the front of the store and had a cup of coffee. I carried everything with me, so I dug out my notebook and wrote furiously through two cups of the stuff.

By the time I returned, Dee was outside having his breakfast. I had tried to see Troy on my way in, but his gate was locked again. I'd heard him moving about last night, but I was already about half asleep by that time.

I looked over Dee's camp site again and told him how impressed I was he'd cleaned it up and finished the job. He was beaming proudly on that note, not saying anything, just nodding. But he had a couple more things he wanted to do, mainly making the perimeter tarps more secure. I helped with that.

“Hey,” I finally said. “I need to go see Indio.”

And this is when it dawned on me how much respect Indio commanded. The look on Dee's face was one of shock mixed with a little fear mixed with suspicion. This prison hardened man who could probably have broken me in half with hardly an effort looked like that when I mentioned talking to Indio.

“Say what?”

And I told him how Indio had woke me, and explained that Indio wanted Dee to bring me to his camp site.

At that point, Dee agreed to do it, but still, with a little hesitancy. It was on me, Dee made clear, if I wasn't welcome at Indio's place.

Remember I said I thought it easy to get lost in The Jungle? Dee got lost not once, but twice taking me to find Indio's camp site! He's been here two or more weeks and he got lost!

When we arrived, Dee called out from beyond Indio's fence. Like Troy's, it was well constructed with Shade Cloth and some other materials marking the perimeter.

“Yeah,” Indio called back. “Come in.”

“Gotta go meet my parole officer,” Dee informed, waved to Indio and disappeared.

As I came in, I met the man face to face for the first time.

Indio is, as one might imagine, Indio. Full blooded Lakota. He keeps what tattoos he has covered. You can't make out what they might be. Intentional? Maybe. The man took my offered hand firmly gripped but friendly, warm. His face is speaks to the romantic notion many have of those of Native American extraction. His nose and steady eyes are reminiscent of a hawks. I'm guessing he's in his mid 40s, but he might be older or younger. White people age... darker skinned people don't. It's the law.

We sat in what amounted to an outdoor living room area each on his own couch, and Indio asked me why I was here. I count myself an honest man. I like to be straight up and straight forward, but even if I were not, I think I would have been compelled to be so sitting with Indio. I told him about the blog. I told him what I expected to find. And I told him I hadn't found what I expected.

I mentioned the clean up, asked him how that worked. He told me what I'd heard sporadically: the cleaner the place is, the less likely there'd be complaints. But that was not the whole of it. He spoke of unity, protection. Of knowing when strangers were here.

“You knew within five minutes I was here Saturday, didn't you,” I said. It wasn't a question. But he nodded silently.

Indio spoke to me about the previous “authority” who had been something of a bully. Inconsistent and self serving rather than consistent and loyal. As much respect as Indio commands, it began to dawn upon me that Loyalty is something Indio understands intimately.

What he said to me causes me to believe this. Indio spoke of how people serve the whole by taking care of their own business, keeping themselves up, and helping out neighbours when necessary. Since LiPo Ching's first visits, and I know this from LiPo, The Jungle has improved significantly. I can only imagine that the quality of life here has likewise improved inspite of challenges like having to cart in water.

I sat with Indio for perhaps forty minutes. I knew we'd said what needed to be said, and I believe he'd trust me so far as what my stated intentions were. He told me to come back before I left, and I promised I would.

I spent much of the rest of the morning saying goodbye to people I'd met and I took an excursion to explore the length and width of The Jungle. I went back up to the clearing/car park at street level, and crossed the abandoned Train Trestle. Walking across the railroad ties, between which there was nothing except a 40 foot drop, tickled my vertigo.

North toward I280 I walked along the edge of Coyote Creek and the open field which appears to have been burned off recently. The charred ground and tracks marring that tell me it was probably a controlled burn.

The raparian area gets narrower the further north one goes. But there is still enough wooded cover to conceal the camp sites that get more sporratic the further on. I passed I280 and found that they continued as far as I could see.

Back at the Jungle's core I tried Troy's place again. Still shut up tight. I'm not sure if it was because he was busy or because I had hung with Dee the day previous. Dee and Troy weren't getting along since Dee's arrival, I learned from Indio later. I left Troy a note thanking him for his hospitality.

I said goodbye to Candy. Mama Red was asleep, having spent the night recycling. I visited Giggles and Patty, and promised them to try and come back to visit some day.

Then I returned to Indio's camp at about 1:30, as I'd promised.

Indio introduced me to his partner, Salinda. I recognized her as the same woman who'd been with Robert two days before when LiPo and I'd been looking for Giggles and Patty. Even so, I don't doubt that Indio probably was aware of us even before Salinda saw us. She proved to be as gracious and regal a woman as I've met. The three of us sat with Indio's brother and a few of his friends as we chatted about the differences between The Jungle and Livermore's homeless. The differences in the way one must live.

Indio sent me off with a traditional Lakota Prayer Song, beating the side of a box for a drum. It's effect was something special and very spiritual. I say this as a Christian that I felt the presence of God in that moment.

When it was time for me to leave, I promised Indio I'd come back. This time I truly meant it, and I am resolved to return at some point.

I walked out of the Jungle at 2:10 in the afternoon of Monday, August 26th feeling a little lighter even with the heavy satchel over my shoulder. It seemed no time at all till I arrived at Diridon station, even though I had been walking for nearly an hour. It 3:05 when I arrived and I only had a 30 minute wait for the ACE Train to leave.

Between the two visits with Indio, I called LiPo. He answered, even though he was with his family in Monterey still. I told him about the conversation with Indio and I told him: Man, Indio is the story here.

Indio had taking a chaotic situation and applied standards of behaviour, and wouldn't take no for an answer. How he did this is the story. That's the part of the story I don't have. I wasn't there long enough to learn it and I don't think Indio trusts me enough to tell me... yet. I'm hoping LiPo and the guys at the Merc will get it from him.

And I thought about this on the way home... the difference between what I expected and what I found. I expected a squalid, drug and alcohol riddled disaster. I expected to be writing about the most horrible third world conditions one could imagine. Conditions that might rival what folks saw in Haiti after the quake there.

What did I find? I found a community of people who watch one another's back for all the right reasons. I found a leader who is pointing people in the right direction and who inspires rather than forces those loyal to him.

Are they completely unified? Not even close to that. What they have for each other, in large part, is respect that is deserved and trust that is earned.

There's still work to do. There's still trash to clean up, and problems to solve and quarrels to manage. There's also the constant threat that a sweep will wipe it all away at any given moment.

But something special has happened in The Jungle.

I was very, very impressed...


ADDED Saturday, August 31 

A Friend showed me a piece from Business Insider. They were there about a month before I was but there are several photographs including the one of LiPo's favourite Tree House... I remember the place being quite a bit cleaner even only a month later.

http://www.businessinsider.com/the-jungle-largest-homeless-camp-in-us-2013-8?op=1

Two Days in The Jungle: Part IV

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

“Who's'at behind my tent?!?” The angry voice hollared. The flash-light in my face had woke me up just prior to the challenge.

I can't remember exactly what it was I said. I was half asleep still, but the man was persistent.

“What's your name?” I asked.

“I'm Dee!” said the man. “What's yours?”

“I'm Christian,” I told him. “Just passing through, man.”

“You ain't stealin' my stuff?”

“I don't touch nobody's stuff but my own, man, ever,” I replied.

“That's cool... that's cool... okay man. You be careful out here, they're trying to get to my stuff from back here!”

“Okay man,” yeah... now I'm wide awake.

I check the phone. It's 1:30AM... crap! I don't know about you, but if I get woke up in the middle of the night, getting back to sleep is a pain. I was woke up by a tweaker I know not long ago about the same hour in Livermore at one of the spots I sleep at. Yeah, two and a half hours to get back to sleep, and I had to be at work that morning. Crap! And it probably took about that to get to sleep this time.

I could hear Dee arguing with someone rather loudly a while later. I couldn't hear what was being said, but he obviously wasn't happy. In the meantime bicycles ran with headlamps blazing up and down the path next to me at full speed. I didn't try to count them, but I would swear to at least twenty passers by.

I think I saw 4:30 before I finally slept.

The next thing I know I hear the loudest rooster crow I've ever heard in my life! I look over, it's broad daylight, and not three feet from me is a classic red rooster regarding me like I'm some kind of space alien. Damn thing crows again, and I spring up and he high tails off at warp speed... yeah, you better run you son of a gun! Damn bird. Turns out, that's the very last rooster out here. The raccoons couldn't catch that one. He was fast, I'll give him that!

It's 10:00AM, Sunday, August 25th and I don't feel rested at all. Must have been the soft dirt below me. I'm used to the firm comfort of concrete.

At this point I'd gone through two full packs of cigarettes and was worried that the last three I had weren't going to be enough. I thought about taking a walk to Walmart down Story Road to get a couple more packs later as I packed up my gear. I opened another, lit one for myself and walked around to see about meeting the man I'd met so late last night.

He was there. Shirt off, his dark skin gleaming with sweat as he worked on his camp site with a chest as wide as any and over six feet of mostly muscle. I don't see any tattoo's on him, but his carry has prison written all over it.

“You the cat I met last night?” Dee asked.

“That would be me,” I said. “Christian.”

“Dee,” he reminded. “Yeah, those dudes, ma'an they wanted in here so bad and they kept on tryin'! But I kept 'em out. They tried to get to my stuff, then they tried to get to Connie's sh*t, but they didn't get nuthin'!”

“Who was it?” I asked.

“I donno! I'm new here.”

“You from up the creek?”

“Yeah. Been here about two weeks. Those M/F cops they come in, they told us to get the f--- out and now we here.”

I spent a while trying to help Dee out as he re-set his tarps over his untidy camp site. He was building a barrier out of tarps and old shopping carts to make sure he had some security against thieves.

“I hate thieves!” Dee told me. “Lowest form-a-life!”

I spent much of the morning with Dee. When more Christians arrived bringing a slew of pizzas we brought some down and had them. It's all I would eat that day.

When I sat down to write more notes I dozed off again. It was probably about 12:30 when I sat down, and I didn't know anything till four in the afternoon.

Half my time here was gone and I really was nowhere near finding out anything worth telling anyone about. I hadn't yet seen anyone smoking, snorting or shooting meth, though I did suspect it from the activity last night. But that might be explained by the fact that most homeless recycle late at night even in Livermore. It's the best time for anyone to do it as they're the first ones to get the stuff left late at night.

People had been civil and friendly to me, but only a few had opened up to me. The newcomers, mostly, who couldn't tell me much about the history of this place. Troy could, but he was either asleep or out. His gate was locked.

I passed by Patty and Giggles place. Patty was busy doing something with somebody she was obviously not too hip to the idea of me being around for whatever it was (it wasn't sex or drug related, so get that outta ya'll's heads). When I said “I just came by to say 'Hi',” she gave me a little wave and said “Hi.” It was dismissive, so I left and wandered around a bit more.

I ran across Ricky and Luis. They were also newcomers settling in on the periphery of The Jungle. This time from up stream, yet another group that had been recently swept out. They made a big deal about how they were not territorial at all, but I can't buy that from anyone. What I was getting is that they were treading lightly, still unsure of the lay of this land before they find their place. I imagine that takes some time as I'd find out later from Dee.

That's where I ended up the rest of the afternoon. Dee was still working hard on getting his area set up properly to defeat thieves. The daylight was burning fast and it was not looking good. I tried to help him till well after dark when it became clear he wasn't going to finish. That, and he dropped his knife somewhere we couldn't find it.

And here I was again... I'd burned up a day and a half, and this is all I had. I had nothing. Nada. I had a few contacts and nothing more. It might have been a good start if I had a longer stay in front of me. There was no real, earth shaking drama, nothing going on that I was aware of that was worth telling about. The only thing was this notion that the place had become more populated, but was still cleaner than it was, and this mysterious ghost named Indio.

I had thought to find another place to bed down, but ended up, because it was now so dark, to hit the same spot I was in the night previous. Dee was pissed off he hadn't finished, but I was petty sure that nobody could sneak up behind his camp. He'd wanted to be done by now, but losing his knife was a problem. He'd need it if he wanted to finish up the job tomorrow morning.

After I bedded down for the night, he and Connie had a fight on her way out... I'd tell you more about that, but it's really for Dee to tell... or Connie, or both... it was more or less a private matter.

But I slept well that night. I was as exhausted as I had been when I napped earlier.

The next thing I knew it was morning. I cold hear hip hop music coming from a small speaker and moving as if on someone's person.

“That's not very smart,” I heard a calm, soft male voice say with no bottom to the depth of its authority.

I look up, and above me stands this very fit figure of a man clad entirely in black. From his leather boots, jeans, leather jacket and the bandanna he wore the same way Troy wore his, tight around his hair...

What got my attention, however, was the machete he held in his hand...

To be continued...

Two Days in The Jungle: Part III

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

From Bruce Newman's Article:

“That suggestion of homelessness as a lifestyle choice sometimes seems at odds with social service programs designed to provide permanent housing. The architects of those plans view homelessness and places like the Jungle as a looming public health and safety threat.”

Every time I hear Homelessness referred to as a “Lifestyle Choice” I want to spit nails! But I digress... That health hazards are a primary concern you would think of when dealing with The Jungle is certainly valid. Festering garbage means Rats and Cockroaches at the very least.

I should note that my whole time there I saw not a single cockroach, not a single rat. Cats, yes. Spiders and mosquitoes bit the living daylights outta me, especially at night... sure. But nothing truly dangerous. I know there are Raccoons. Supposedly there were several chickens and roosters running wild before that the Raccoons caught. I saw a couple of them.

But the Garbage is organized, ugly though it may be. An outfit called Downtown Streets comes once a week to truck it out of here and the people here are surprisingly responsible about keeping the pathways clear of refuse. You don't see much of anything discarded randomly. There is some stuff, but what you might think is discarded has just been set down and is about to be taken apart for recycling or used for some other purpose. It's true of a lot of the shopping carts that are, as I've noted, ubiquitous. They're just all over the place!

I toured a bit after LiPo left trying to note locations and get my bearings on where the camp-sites were of those I'd met. The orderliness of things was still striking to me. I saw several places where poles had been carved out of branches and set up as if to make a TeePee... never did find out if that was the intention.

A few fences, I noticed, were made of skillfully woven sticks with foliage rather than shade cloth.

People I passed sometimes greeted and sometimes looked on me with suspicion just like any other place. And in any other place you'd probably think of these people as something of a motley crew. That's not what I saw through my own homeless eyes. Some had long beards, some were less than well kept, but they strangely fit in here like pieces of an intricate puzzle and did not seem to be skid row losers.

It took me a while to understand the difference between those in the Jungle and those I know from Livermore. Everyone here is in motion. Everyone is moving. Those that are not are probably asleep. Everyone has a task they are performing or travelling in or out on a bicycle, probably on their way to get water or recycle.

These people are not wasting their time.

I went back to visit with Patty and Giggles for a bit and began giving away cigarettes. I brought five packs of Camel 99s with me, expecting to give most of them away. I know the first words out of the mouths of many homeless in Livermore are “You gotta smoke?”

My response would normally be: “Nice To Meet you, Mr. Gottasmoke! I'm Christian. May I call you Ewe..?” You jack-wagon!

But here in the Jungle, I'm the intruder. Making nice is part of being the new guy. So I gave them out freely.

I found Patty surrounded by men. It turns out to be the normal state of affairs. She doesn't need to fight them off. The woman knows what she's doing when it comes to keeping them at arms length. I never saw any indication she favoured any one over another, but then, I didn't spend all that much time with her. She'd been very kind to me early on. The Christians had arrived with food while LiPo was still here and Robert had brought down several bags of food for their group. She shared some of that with me.

“You need a tent?” Patty asked me, looking not a little concerned. “I have an extra one.”

I told her no, I liked travelling light and I was only here a couple of days. Hers was not the first offer of a tent and it wouldn't be the last. She also offered me more food. That I took and ate with gusto.

“LiPo said this place is cleaner than he remembers it,” I told her.

“You'll have to ask Indio about that,” said Patty.

I let that slide. But it wouldn't be the last time I heard the name “Indio.” I heard it twice more that first evening. One guy, Christian was his name (go figure, I come all the way to The Jungle to meet another guy named Christian!) Latino, nice guy. Christian asked another a question about something or other and his friend responded that he'd have to get back to him after talking to Indio...

Eventually I returned to see Troy, and spent much of the rest of that afternoon watching him work on his latest project. He was setting up a work bench made of an eight foot length of 4x10. He was sick and tired of sharpening his tools bent over and straining his back. He did all his sawing with a well worn hand saw that he keeps well maintained and well sharpened with a three sided file.

He told me he was had ADHD or ADD or whatever they're calling it this week. I'm not sure I buy that about him as I watch him work, puttering about making this work bench level, sturdy and square. He's also worried about his water cart.

The Jungle used to be irrigated. It's how Troy and the others used to get their water. Now that's been cut off, and they've been forced to go offsite for it. The cart is his only way of getting water and the wheels need to be replaced. I was looking at it and I suggested wheels from a hand truck... he agreed, but it would take time for him to get his hands on something like that.

As he worked, I began recording in my note book what I'd seen so far, filling perhaps four pages with notes. I was beginning to wonder if there was anything to this place at all... it did not seem like any homeless encampments I'd ever seen, certainly. I didn't see any rampant drug use, and usually that's up front and obvious. People admit freely to smoking pot... big flipping deal! (I don't, by the way. It makes me paranoid as all get-out and I just don't like it).

I tried to find Mama Red again, later, but Candy said she was out and about somewhere... and I had to go find a place to settle down for the night.

The spot I chose was not far from Troy's place. It was under some shrubs where there was no undergrowth. I cleared the area of sticks and pebbles, laid out my tarp, both blankets on atop another, and my bivvy. The sun was already down, but the twilight gave just enough light for me to see by. Apart from the occasional voices of passers by, there were the crickets. They were insanely loud! One was chirping fairly close to me, but the loudest one of all maintained that constant sound, not chirping, just a constant, monotone cricket sound. I guess, however, that that guy might have helped me on my way to slumberland...

But there was also the four hour trip and running around, and climbing up that durned tree (thanks, LiPo!) had left me exhausted. In spite of the ongoing activity around me, I was asleep fairly soon after sundown around 9pm.

I was jerked awake in the pitch blackness pierced by a flash-light in my face with an angry voice shouting: “Who's'at behind my tent?!?”

To Be Continued...

Two Days in The Jungle: Part II

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

“Her name's 'Baby',” Troy said of the grey striped cat looking up at us. “I hate the name Baby, someone else gave her that name. But she's fearless. She'll come up here.”

We were thirty feet above the ground on a four by eight foot platform LiPo had generously referred to as Troy's new tree house. LiPo, durn him, wanted to go up there.

Troy stood over us both. He's a bear of a man wearing a bandana tightly over his red hair and a moustache trimmed so that it extends down to his jaw, like a goatee with the beard part shaved off. He dwarfs both LiPo and myself.

From this vantage point, we can see much of, but not all of The Jungle even as the wind comes up and the tree begins to sway and twist, keeping me firmly attached to the main branch I was conspicuously hugging.

In the past two hours, LiPo had introduced me to the main characters of the original SJ Merc Article by Bruce Newman. We had ventured down the main ramp leading in and one of the first things out of LiPo's mouth, something he'd repeat was: “It's a lot cleaner than I remember it!”

Clean being relative. Some of the trash cans overflowed with garbage, but at least it was gathered. There were also piles of plastic garbage bags gathered here and there. Shopping carts are ubiquitous and the number of cats lurking, watching, like silent sentinels aware of these two interlopers come to call.

Many of the camp sites are walled off with green shade cloth tied to make-shift posts and surrounding trees or bushes. Troy's is particularly tidy and well made, but his is not the exception, it's more the example.

We had ventured to Troy's camp site first. The shade cloth has arrows panted on it pointing to the gate where signs tell you to keep out or to announce yourself before coming in. LiPo and I looked over the shade cloth fence and he called for Troy. Inside I could see Troy's small shack, his stash of tools and equipment and his shower that was ringed by a blue tarp hanging on a hoop ring perhaps six feet in diameter.

There was no answer from Troy, which disappointed LiPo.

He then took me to find Mama Red down, what I was now finding out, was a maze of beaten paths under a goodly amount of shade. It struck me that one could easily get lost here. I would later find it to be a prophetic idea.

We found Mama Red's place with it's artificial flowers planted decoratively outside the shade cloth fence. Inside seems a little chaotic and disorganized, but outward appearances are of a tidy home.

Mama Red is a talkative woman who is friendly and quite obviously generous. Since LiPo had last seen her she had taken in Candy, who is as timid a creature as one might imagine. Mama Red obviously realized Candy needed someone to look after her and, there being nobody else, Mama Red took her in. Mama Red did give LiPo a little grief over what was said in the article about her daughter. “She wasn't around to defend herself,” Mama Red scolded. Overall,however, it was a friendly reunion.

When LiPo informed Mama Red that I'd be staying a couple of days, she automatically offered to give me food whenever I needed it...

From there we moved on looking for Giggles and Patty. LiPo noticed that they were not in the place he remembered and we went asking for them. We came across a man and a woman who were talking and LiPo asked after Patty and Giggles, and how to get to their place.

The woman remained silent after we arrived, but the man challenged us.

“You know them and don't know where they live?”

LiPo explained, and the guy told us to wait while he disappeared down the path.

LiPo and I looked at each other, suddenly both of us understanding that we very much were intruders in this place. It was the first of many things that would tell me how close nit this miniature town is.

When the man finally returned he had us follow him. He led us near the edge of Coyote Creek and through a gated fence where Giggles and Patty were waiting for us.

Giggles greeted us with a big smile that I would find characteristic of her. Patty, who is quite an attractive young Latina was more guarded, often giving one or two word answers when asked a question. Young she may be, but she has the watchful eyes of someone with many more years. In the SJ Merc story Bruce Newman seemed to imply that Giggle's was Patty's protection. I'm not so sure it isn't the other way round. Giggles is a very open person, easy to talk to. We notice they have a mountain of recycle goods surrounding the shack Troy built for Patty as Giggles complains to LiPo how there was no mention of her pride of cats and kittens in the article...

We find out, also that the man who led us here is Robert, who is Giggle's ex-... something... (Husband, Boyfriend... not sure)... He's a recent arrival, one of many, to the Jungle having been swept out of another area further up the creek.

“There seems to be a lot more people here,” LiPo observes.

“There are,” Patty tells us. In the past month, three other areas have been cleared of homeless and they've mostly ended up in the Jungle. Many are still settling in.

Not long after I'm not thinking about any of this as I hug the main branch on this swaying, twisting tree for dear life. Troy seems to be giddy, but LiPo seems to share my terror as he grits through it and snaps pictures with his iPhone or Android... or whatever smart thing it is...
“There she is!” Troy says of Baby, who's on a branch just below us. “That cat's fearless!”

I'm not... I don't say it, but I'm about ready for a change of underwear. “I'm going down now,” I told him, finally getting up enough nerve to say it.

I can still feel the tree's twist and sway even with my feet firmly on the ground. We sit with Troy for a spell, and finally, LiPo has to leave. He's on his way to take the family to Monterey for a weekend excursion.

LiPo says goodbye to Troy, and he and I walk back to his car. I promise to call and keep him posted on any developments.

“Yeah, and if' there's no story here, I'll just find someone to stab me... that'll get you one,” I said. It's a bad, bad joke I've been telling for days. Half, I suppose, to ward off danger by being contrarian, and half to tell myself how ridiculous it is to be afraid...

I've been living homeless for more than three bloody years! I've no right to fear anything!

I'm telling myself this as I watch LiPo drive away, and turn, and walk back down the main ramp back into the maze I found in The Jungle...


To Be Continued...

Two Days in The Jungle: Part I

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

On the ACE Train back to Livermore, I'm contemplating the difference between what I expected and what I experienced in The Jungle. I have been contemplating it since this very morning, Monday, August 26th, after an enlightening conversation with one of the most interesting men I have ever met and one of... no, not one of, the single most interesting place that I have ever seen.

The ACE Train takes about seventy five minutes to go from Diridon Station to the Livermore Transit Centre. I sat there, with Jungle Dust coating my jeans and likely not pleasing to anyone's nose. But it was a nice ride for me. A short ride. Much different from the one that took me there.

I first heard of The Jungle in an article by Bruce Newman of the San Jose Mercury News. It was published June 1st, and in it, Newman described it as 75 squalid acres upon which a homeless encampment has sprung.

Now, I have seen homeless encampments here in Livermore. Without exception they become disasters very quickly. The most notorious was near Las Colinas Road at Interstate 580 where the residents were cooking methamphetamine and, consequently, started a fire... it was broken up. The most visible, some of you will remember, was just north of In n Out Burger on the banks of the creek right next to the east bound I580 on ramp... that one looked pretty bad to everyone.

So, I'm reading this article, and all I can think of is: how bad can bad get?

I had to go there! I had to... I needed to see with my own eyes the disaster this was!

So I contacted Bruce Newman, the author of the article and asked him in an email who among the residents there he thought I should look to to get an “in...”

Newman told me that LiPo Ching, the story's photographer, was the guy I should be talking to... and the next thing I know, LiPo and I are exchanging emails back and forth on my planned excursion... he even tried to pitch the idea to his editors to as an excuse to continue the story, which he still very much wants to do.

But I told LiPo my intentions regarding my angle. He made it clear, in his way, that I should proceed with an open mind. He'd introduce me to Troy, and Mama Red, and Patti and Giggles, all of whom were featured in the story. But mostly, he wanted to introduce me to Troy. He didn't tell me why.

Unfortunately for LiPo, his editors didn't buy his pitch... but he was still gracious enough to meet me at Diridon Station in San Jose to drive me to The Jungle.

I left the morning of Saturday, August 24th after work. I was on the Number 10 bus at about a quarter to eleven. To BART in the East Dublin Station... on to Powell Street in San Francisco... a twenty minute walk down 4th to King Street and the Cal Train Station. From there, onto Cal Train, and an hour and a half ride to Diridon in San Jose that arrived just before 3PM... four hours...

LiPo, true to his word, was waiting there for me. I'll be forever grateful for that alone.

I knew from Google Maps that The Jungle lies just south of Interstate 280 and across Story Road from Happy Hollow. Coyote Creek runs up the east side of Happy Hollow, crosses Story Road, then turns west along that same road, then back north toward I280. The creek area, which is somewhat heavily wooded, is where the Jungle lies, and is basically an L shape with most of the rest of the area clear.

Looking on Google Maps lately in Satellite Mode, I could even make out some encampments.

LiPo drove me there, and I'm hyped up and animated... people who know me know that when I'm hyped up and animated you really don't want to talk... just let me be the motor mouth that I am and try and tune me out... I was also as nervous as I could be.

I was travelling light. My satchel held only essentials. Two blankets (for mats) my tarp (reflective on one side) and my SOL emergency bivvy, which is a 6 ounce sleeping bag made for survivial. I like having one ever since I discovered them. I also carried my toiletry kit, some pens, and two note pads...

We arrived on the south west corner of The Jungle onto a large clearing off story road. Could be a large parking lot. One encampment was clearly visible next to the abandoned train trestle which crosses Coyote Creek running north.

We got out of LiPo's car and he looked around, down into the sunken area where so many live at the bottom of the barrel...

Two Hispanic men passed on bicycles sporting big biceps and the number 14 clearly visible on their shoulders... Norteños... and suddenly I knew who's territory I was in. They gave us the once over twice as they road by.

“Ready?” LiPo asked me... not so sure! I thought... but I followed him down into the Jungle anyway...

And all I could think of was, you wanted this, you idiot. You wanted to see How Bad Bad Could Get... this is all on you...! And thus began two days of high adventure...


To Be Continued...

City Wide Sweep of the Homeless

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

Inspectors from the City of Livermore Neighbourhood Preservation Section (Code Enforcement) swept much of the city for homeless encampments Friday. Homeless were given notice to leave several areas including around the Civic Centre and known encampments on Railroad Avenue and along Mocho Park.

As many as four arrests for Drunk in Public were also made at the fountain near Grocery Outlet on Railroad.

Notices were posted at camp sites at which the occupant was not present giving the occupant 24 hours to vacate the area.

“It's probably a lot of complaints by people,” observed one homeless man who requested to go unnamed. “This one woman walked her dog near me and they told me I frightened her.”

It is unclear if the action was concerted with the Livermore Police Department or the sole action of the Livermore Neighbourhood Preservation Section.

The Section is part of the city's Community Development Department.

Uninformed Opinions...

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

It's amazing to me how many people have opinions on things they have not read. More than one responder who seem to be very intelligent, quite conservative, seems to think they can formulate an educated opinion on Homelessness for Stupid People based entirely on one or two blog posts, specifically those where I have tended to be critical of the LPD.

By the way, LPD, you will always have my full support and cooperation. But when I see something that bothers me (involving your interaction with the Homeless) I'll be talking about it. That goes for any government institution.

One poster had not read the blog he was answering. How do I know this? It was on the Police Failure at the Livermore Library. He posted that he could find no law supporting what my problem was. I had pasted both relevant laws into the blog itself! They were there! In italics! Too lazy to read... hmm...

But, yesterday, I was very amused when a taxpayer funded worker from ABODE told me that, in her opinion, these blogs were destructive.

I asked her how they were destructive.

She told me that when I air the private business of people, it is hurtful.

I told her I don't do that. I air the public business of people who abuse others in public.

No, it's still private, she told me. It doesn't matter that it's in public!

Uhm... can you tell me which blog post you have the biggest problem with?

I haven't read them, she tells me... and she will not be...

What would I expect from someone who gets an income provided for by the Government who is basically a paid advocate?

Okay, for this person who doesn't bother to read these blog postings, hopefully this will get back to her:

What is done in PUBLIC is PUBLIC!

When you abuse others in public it is public! People see it! It is fair game! When you are abusive to people around you your expectation of privacy is NIL! As in NON-EXISTENT!

I'd venture to say that any government funded worker should have zero expectation of privacy by virtue of being government funded period... that's my attitude toward a lot of these people. They very often bother me with their holier than thou attitudes... I've often noticed that taxpayer funded employees tend to act as though you work for them when they're providing you with a service... especially one you're for which you may be paying a fee. Do I have a bias against them? Yeah... I tend to regard them poorly through a great deal of experience... mostly bad. It doesn't seem to matter whether they work for a government agency or private, taxpayer funded non-profit... the attitudes seem to be the same.

Funny how the Librarians I see most days seem to be the exception. And Cops are Cops... they have a culture all their own that the rest of us will never understand. Librarians probably do as well...

I could argue that public employees (including those tax funded types working through non-profits) have no expectation of privacy involving anything connected to their jobs... but that's for another time, I suppose. They'd tell you different, of course. Their notion of privacy reminds me a great deal of how my grandfather used to describe the Bolshevik Doctrine:

What's yours is mine and what's mine is none of your business!

The attitude of this person I spoke with seems to be that a homeless person's bad behaviour in public should be considered private just by virtue of their being what...? Homeless?

Just so everyone knows, the message I'm trying to send to these people who practice bad behaviour is this: if they stop, people won't see them practising bad behaviour.

I would refer this woman to my very first blog entry... what I worry about most is the bad behaviour of other homeless people. She won't read it... but she'll have an opinion about it, I'm sure...

MA

I've always been something of a Japanophile. Things Japanese fascinate me. Last Christmas I bought a pair of Boken (Japanese Wooden Swords) for my cousin's sons, which, by the way, I'm ecstatic they still practice with!

But the single greatest thing my obsession has taught me is the concept of Ma. Empty Space. Lack of clutter. Less is More.

Pots are formed from clay,
though the space inside them is the essence of the pot.

There's this TV show about Hoarding with terrible scenes of cluttered spaces filled with useless items. Lucky them, they have space to put all their stuff. But imagine not having a place to keep all your crap! Having to tote it with you everywhere!

Hoarding is a big problem for a lot of homeless people. I've noted that Libby does it. Todd does it. And, durn it, this morning I noticed someone new who does it! It was horrific watching this poor woman who had accumulated far more crap than she could carry!

That which has no purpose, has no value.

Perhaps the whole notion of Hoarding one of the negative features of our American Culture. He who dies with the most toys: wins! The more stuff you have, the richer you are.

The Japanese see things much differently. Is it because space is at a premium in Japan? This was not always so, so I don't believe that explains it.

I noted recently in an email exchange that with the homeless: hints are useless. One must be perfectly clear. I, myself, appreciate clarity. Say what you mean and mean what you say. Don't mince words. Fewer words have more value.

Harrison Ford once described the creative process in film making. He spoke of the exchange between himself and Tommy Lee Jones in the drainage pipe. “I didn't kill my wife!” Ford cried. “I don't care!” Lawman Tommy Lee replied! Ford had said in the interview that the exchange would have been a long dialogue, but that the creative team he participated with boiled it all the way down to those simple lines that were the essence of it. The exchange had clarity.

Ford understands why. Ernest Hemingway certainly did. The man laboured over how to structure a sentence with as few words as possible in the most descriptive fashion. His work is considered to be some of the finest writing there has ever been. It has clarity without an over abundance of superfluous words.

I believe, strongly, that these things are connected at the hip. People who are not hoarders are also the ones least likely to be long winded speakers.

A reader of this blog I met a few days ago at Tommie's found out that I'm a bit long winded... that fits. I had to force myself to learn to shed what I do not need. Or was it forced on me? But I believe myself to be proof that someone pre-disposed to hoarding can learn not to.

Part of being homeless (to those that are not substance abusers) is a learning process. Learning that less is more is one of those things the homeless must learn in order to survive long term.

Now, before I go on, I have to disclose that the majority of homeless hoarders I am personally familiar with are substance abusers. It might be methamphetamine or prescription drugs. However, I am familiar with a few that I do not believe to be on anything.

Either way, being homeless and a hoarder creates a huge burden for that homeless person. It's a burden that can create unnecessary anxiety as they struggle to deal with what they have. Those of you who are aware of this behaviour on the part any homeless person: you're doing nothing but helping if you at least point out what a problem it is, assuming that person can stop talking long enough to let you get a word in edgewise...

You Might Have Called Them "Bums..."

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

I ran into Ivan yesterday who I had not seen for quite some time. I didn't quite recognize him till he took off his bicycle helmet and sunglasses. Once he revealed his boyishly friendly face I was finally sure it was him. He looked great and told me about this new job he scored as a cook. The two of us shared personal stories and news and goings on. While we were speaking his phone rang.

“It's Jackie!” Ivan said. “I gotta take this!” You bet he did. Jackie doesn't take no for an answer!

I first met Jackie and Ivan in November of 2011 at the Warming Centre. Can't remember the location it resided at that day, but, like every other guy in the room, we all noticed Jackie first. It's not just that Jackie is beautiful, she also has an outgoing character that can remind one of an annoyed rhino... from time to time. She will get in your face if you tick her off. Having done that... more than once, I've experienced this first hand.

Ivan is the opposite. Quiet and unassuming, he's easy to talk to, friendly and a whole lot tougher than he looks.

Ivan has a couple of things going for him, not counting his personability. The first is that the guy is very industrious. He's not afraid of hard work, and will jump right in when necessary. The other thing is Jackie. She's quite the motivator. It shows all over his face when they're together. Jackie is also a Medical Tech, working on being a Licensed Practical Nurse, while Ivan is a trained cook.

When I met them, they were both out of work and homeless. It did not take Jackie terribly long to find work as a Nurse. Ivan took a little longer to find work. But, before the Warming Centre season ended in April of 2012, the two of them were both working and had managed to rent a room. Ivan took whatever job he could get. Jackie's been at the same job for over a year and a half. Her boss must like her...

Just recently Ivan found this well paying job as a cook in a local institution. The two of them have high hopes that soon they'll be able to move out of their rented room and get into an apartment of their own.

It's mid August, 2013. They rented a room in March of 2012 with two incomes.

Think about that for a moment. These are two highly skilled individuals who have been climbing back up from homelessness for two years and HOPE to have their own place soon.

I've mentioned before, and I'll say it again: just because you have a job does not mean you won't be homeless any more.

Jackie and Ivan are a couple with two incomes sharing a room trying to get back into normal life any way they can. To the rest of us they're an inspiring story. Everyone who knows them is happy for them. And they did it together, proving once again that a couple is more than the sum of its parts.

Could they have done it individually? Maybe. As industrious as Ivan is... but I know men just as industrious who work and are homeless. The force of will that Jackie has? Heh... I wouldn't bet against Jackie.

Maybe I'm fully off base, but the difference, I believe, is that Jackie and Ivan are a couple with the same goals in mind: a better life for the both of them. They motivate each other. They are one another's purpose. They're also both young with a whole lot of life and potential ahead of them. Every indication is that they're going to be living up to a lot of that potential.

So, I believe, and I hope I'm correct, that we can safely chalk Jackie and Ivan up as a success story. They did it with the same level of support everyone else has with the noted exception of their support for each other.

In a past blog entry, I spoke of David who made it out on his own. David is also, however, well educated with a skill set in high demand. He's not lucky so much as very, very smart. And except for the fact that Jackie and Ivan have each other, you cannot call them lucky either.

At the risk of repeating myself: there are homeless people out there who have held down the same job for years. They aren't the hyper conspicuous meth-heads and alcoholics. You might have seen them, sure. A couple, who do have jobs, have been mentioned in the responses to this blog. I don't know any homeless with with jobs who could be considered “problem” homeless.

I would dearly love to introduce you to some of these people. I won't since I don't want to violate their privacy. They're not the type of people who put their bad behaviour on full display for the whole world to see (and me to write about... Judy...)

But I have mentioned a few of the names in a previous entries. These are guys that several of the responders to this blog would label “bums” without hesitation. But I'm not writing this for those people. I'm writing it for the rest of you. Those of you who don't comment. I'm writing this to make it perfectly clear that getting out of being homeless is not so simple a thing as just getting a job.

I can't tell you what exactly it would require... (other than deporting the cause of low wages and cutting the salaries of those tax supported types that drive up the cost of living)... I could tell you that it might require every homeless guy (who isn't on some controlled substance) to get married to a girl like Jackie just to be motivated... heh... they probably broke the mould when they made her, so, not happening. It doesn't require government funding, that's just going to feed expectations of those expecting to be taken care of. It doesn't require you to throw away money at people with signs (especially those with their kids in tow).

Realistically, I have no idea how I, personally, or the guys I mentioned in that other blog, will make it back to “normal.”

The ignorant can call us “bums” all they want to. I'll blame Stoney and Mark Watters and Adam Parris and the rest of the drug addled types who fit the classic description of “homeless.” (If you've no idea who those names belong to, count your blessings!) My friends and I are not them.

My friends and I will keep our jobs, and I'll be as outspoken as I have been... Jackie and Ivan, thankfully, don't have to endure that kind of hate any more...

Police Failure in the Livermore Library

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

Originally posted August 13, 2013

Judy's at it again. Two days in a row she walked into the Livermore Public Library with Shane, the overweight black lab. Shane is NOT a service animal, but Judy pawns him off as one regularly. But this time, the Library staff acted on it. I'm pretty proud of them for doing this. They approached her and spoke to her about Shane, at which time Judy became belligerent.

Just so everyone knows, when Judy becomes belligerent it's a thing to experience! I've experienced it. I'm one of those few people who can take it. I know some of the library staff, and I can tell you, they do NOT need Judy's drama!

Did they ask Judy to leave? I don't know. I'm not privy to that information. The likelihood that they asked Judy to take Shane outside is high. Again, I do not know and won't bother the Library staff to ask. But I do know that after 5PM a Livermore Police Officer arrived, went in, and spoke with Judy.

Just to remind everyone, the two applicable laws under the California Civil Code and Penal Code:

California Civil Code Section 54.1 (c) Visually impaired or blind persons and persons licensed to train guide dogs for individuals who are visually impaired or blind pursuant to Chapter 9.5 (commencing with Section 7200) of Division 3 of the Business and Professions Code or guide dogs as defined in the regulations implementing Title III of the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 (Public Law 101-336), and persons who are deaf or hearing impaired and persons authorized to train signal dogs for individuals who are deaf or hearing impaired, and other individuals with a disability and persons authorized to train service dogs for individuals with a disability, may take dogs, for the purpose of training them as guide dogs, signal dogs, or service dogs in any of the places specified in subdivisions (a) and (b). These persons shall ensure that the dog is on a leash and tagged as a guide dog, signal dog, or service dog by identification tag issued by the county clerk, animal control department, or other agency, as authorized by Chapter 3.5 (commencing with Section 30850) of Division 14 of the Food and Agricultural Code. In addition, the person shall be liable for any provable damage done to the premises or facilities by his or her dog. 

CA PENAL CODE SECTION 365.7 [a] Any person who, knowingly and fraudulently represents himself or herself, through verbal or written notice, to be the owner or trainer of any canine licensed as, to be qualified as, or identified as, a guide, signal, or service dog, as defined in subdivisions (d), (e), and (f) of Section 365.5 and paragraph (6) of subdivision (b) of Section 54.1 of the Civil Code, shall be guilty of a misdemeanor punishable by imprisonment in the county jail not exceeding six months, by a fine not exceeding one thousand dollars ($1,000) or by both that fine and imprisonment. 

Judy Claudio knows all this. She's read this blog. (She's screamed at me over this blog!) And she is well aware that Shane: 1, is not a service animal and 2, it is a criminal offence to represent him as one. How do I know this? Because I told her personally.

I also have blogged about this behaviour before. I blogged on it before I was aware it was a criminal offence. And I blogged on it after I found out.

The officer was in there for quite some time. I stood outside and waited, but he came out, got in his squad car and left. Judy is still inside!

WHAT?

The library staff were told by the officer he could do nothing!

WHAT?

Hello: what part of Six Months in Prison OR $1000 fine OR both is unclear? You guys did NOT even tell her to leave???

Now Judy is in there giving the Library staff a piece of her mind!

You know, that's the part that irks me the most. The Librarians are TRYING to do the right thing! They are trying to have a safe, clean, good environment where parents can bring their children and families can come!

The LPD is NOT going to back up the Library Staff when they are so clearly in the right?

REELY?

Back in the Coast Guard, guys, they called that DERELICTION OF DUTY! You could end up in Leavanworth for it!

WAY TO GO, LIVERMORE POLICE! You're knowledge of the law you're supposed to be enforcing is stellar!


Updated August 21, 2013

What has just come to my attention is the number of news stories reporting an epidemic of people fraudulently representing pets as service animals. It has become so pervasive that there is a campaign for the Federal Department of Justice to take action:

http://www.cci.org/site/apps/nlnet/content2.aspx?c=cdKGIRNqEmG&b=4127877&ct=13232695

From the Sun Sentinel of Ft. Lauderdale, Florida:

"It has become an epidemic," said Kris Baker, 63, who lives in Orlando. "And what we're getting is the aftermath. Somebody will take Fluffy with them into a restaurant, and the dog will bark or snap at someone or poop on the floor. So when we come in with a legitimate dog, we get the questions and the resentment. It's harder for us."

http://www.sun-sentinel.com/features/your-home/os-fake-service-dogs-20130807,0,2328362.story

From WBBM, CBS Radio Chicago, Illinois:

“My second assistance dog was actually attacked by a dog at a professional conference by someone who was trying to pass off their pet as an assistance dog who had no business being in public,”

http://chicago.cbslocal.com/2013/08/21/despicable-epidemic-people-using-fake-service-dogs/

It would seem that this is a larger story... perhaps someone at the patch might take an interest in it...

A Damsel in Distress...

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

It's a guy thing... Damsels in Distress just... it's a guy thing, and if you're female, you just won't get it! I don't have to explain it to the guys, so I won't bother...

It's about eleven thirty Sunday Morning and I'm sitting outside the Library having a smoke. I hear a woman's voice behind me filled with distress telling someone to leave her alone. I recognized the woman I saw as one of the homeless. I had seen only a couple of times before at Vineyard and Asbury churches. She's one of those people who strikes me as a little lost... the type that always seems to hook up with the wrong people... funny how lately I'm never wrong about that.

But she's absolutely in a state of distress at this point, so much so that people there are watching her. I did not see who she was speaking with.

Back inside Tommie's I introduce myself and ask her how she's doing. We exchanged pleasantries and she begins to tell me about herself.

Gina's been in town about a month. She was telling me various things about herself as we sat at the window counter and, as she was, I looked up and watched Adam Parris walk around the corner. My blood boils every time I see this “man” who I consider to be the slimiest of characters.

“Look who's here,” I said. “It's the rapist...”

Gina looked up and panicked.

“That's the guy I'm trying to get away from!”

And with that, she bolted, and I do mean BOLTED into the women's bathroom.

I walked outside and told him I'd called the police on him, and he promptly disappeared.

What's funny is that I thought I was done talking about Adam Parris. Maybe the time he's been spending in Pleasanton made him think enough time had passed that I'd forgot about him.

Gina stayed in the women's bathroom till about the time the library opened. She was loath to come back into Tommie's till I told her Adam was gone.

At that point, she began to tell me what had happened.

She met him only this morning when, she tells me, he nearly crashed into her on the way to McDonald's on P and Olivina. At first, he seemed nice. He showed her a photograph of his two year old daughter (the mother of which, I am told, is the same woman from this story).

Suddenly, Adam begins to talk about how he and she are now “Boyfriend and Girlfriend,” something that made Gina leery and very uncomfortable.

On their bicycles, Gina and Adam began making their way to the Library stopping at a store along the way. During the trip, Adam, Gina said, tried to kiss her and paw at her and generally became insistent that he had every right to put his hands on her.

By the time Gina arrived at the Library, she wanted nothing more than to get away from Adam. That is when I first saw her this morning...

We went back outside, and I asked her to walk with me around the Library to see if he was still around, but Gina was not at all comfortable with that. So we sat and had a smoke, and I managed to convince her to talk to LPD.

She's been out with a young LPD Lawman for about half an hour. I've already given him my part, which, of course, wasn't much. But... Adam, just so you know: NOBODY has forgot who and what you are!

At Gina's insistence, I have to mention that the Lawman she spoke with was “Insanely Cute...” Be Careful Cute Young LPD Lawman... you have a new fan.

Through the grapevine I'm now told Adam Parris is on his way to Mountain View... maybe he'll stay there a while...

The Purpose of HFSP and Essential Reading

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

The target readership of this blog are 1: The Homeless, 2: Those that work with the homeless, and 3: the community at large, in that order.

Some joker who calls himself Libertus_rebellium and I got into it on the blog entry concerning Bo Busse's arrest. But I'm a little irritated with LR's attitude. Having not followed this blog he has very strong opinions on it (and me personally).

Just so everyone knows: I will NEVER answer personal questions in the comments of this blog. I only talk about that with people I know I can trust, and LR has not even tried earning my trust. I don't give that away, especially to people who hide behind ridiculous monikers designed to protect their annonymity.

But busting LR's rear is really not the purpose of this blog entry. It's purpose is for those of you who are potentially going to run off at the mouth the way LR did. He's actually smart to not identify himself... I certainly wouldn't want anyone to know I was such a clueless and blustering a moron.

So, for those of you who decide you want understand what this blog is about, here are some of the key postings:

What? Me, Worry?
Yeah, Alfred E. Neuman's own phrase... I've loved it since I was a kid. It's the very first post I made. It's about my attitude toward Homelessness in general. If LR had read it, he probably wouldn't have decided to start attacking.

A Guide to Proper Conduct
Guidelines for the homeless on how NOT to be a problem. I consider this one of my most important postings, and I stand by everything in it.

Street Guide: Tips for the Newly Homeless
The essential guide survival while Homeless in Livermore. Most but not all of the services, certainly the essential ones. It also has some notes on attitude.

I Am Omelette
This is just my favourite still. It tells about some of the characters you'll encounter if you're homeless.

Money from Cars
About flying a sign (holding a sign, begging for money).

Using Children for Greed
I should have titled this “Abusing Children for Greed” but that's water under the bridge. Boy did I get some flack for this! Even so, I stand by it. It's sort of a follow up to “Money from Cars” that was prompted by a photograph posted on Facebook...

On Methamphetamine
Another one I'm proud of. It was a collaboration with Joe Van Fossen, who is one of the most likeable kids you'll ever meet, and an aspiring doctor who tried to help me understand Meth...

Living out of a Bicycle
This is as personal as I ever plan to get in my blog. People seemed to want to know about me... so I posted this. It's also an insurance policy. My bike is my most valuable possession and that everyone knows who's it is... that's better than State Farm... :)

A Cautionary Tale from San Francisco
What happens when you hand out resources with no standards of behaviour? Big mess! Not pretty. Reading the article in the SF Chronicle felt like a complete vindication even though the author tried to remain sympathetic to failed programs and help them beg for even more money...

Are the rest just filler? Well, that's for you, not me to judge. Some of them are more serious than others. I did two on Baseball because... well, I love Baseball! I didn't include the one on my court battle with Rapist Adam Parris. But if you run into him, he's a rapist... 'nuff said. It's not essential to know the details unless you really want me to spell them out for you. I've done that often enough already.

What you find in the blogs I linked to are the essentials. The ones that give you the true purpose behind this blog. It is NOT about getting people out of being homeless. It is not about keeping people homeless. It is not about apologizing for the homeless.

It is about the homeless surviving and doing so with as much dignity as possible without punishing the people around them. For the volunteers it's about having standards that are enforced and taken seriously. For the public at large it's about not lumping the lot of us into one big trash bag... which Libertus_rebellium seems bent on doing...

When the Sheriff Arrested Bo... (Updated Aug 9)

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

Originally Posted Tuesday August 6, 2013

Remember that bike I delivered to Vineyard Christian Fellowship last Monday? I blogged about how I dun a bad thing, which included the bit about that... Well, it figured into this little saga Bo Busse told me this afternoon. It's an interesting tale, so I thought I'd share it with you.

The story goes that one week ago, last Tuesday, Bo got arrested. Nothing new. Bo is no saint. It's happened before. But this story, if he's telling it to me accurately, is a little disturbing. Keep in mind, I do not know the truth of it, but I'm recording it in case it is, in fact, true what Bo is telling me.

Apparently, Bo was in Safeway, and Safeway employees accused him of stealing a bottle of liquor. He submitted to a check of his bag and his pockets where they found nothing. So, Bo rode off.

Shortly, Bo was in the parking at Valley Care Medical Center riding his bike, and an unmarked police car pulled in front of him, a man popped out and told him to freeze.

Bo says he did not understand this man to be a lawman, so he kept riding.

Two Livermore PD Squad cars arrived, lit him up and, Bo stopped, at which point the plain clothed Sheriff's Deputy tackled him, split his chin open on the pavement and cuffed him, finally identifying himself as a Sheriff's Deputy. As Bo sat cuffed on the curb the three officers checked Bo for the bottle of Liquor Safeway reported missing and found nothing. They ran the numbers on the bicycle, attempting to determine it to be stolen. That happens to be the very same bicycle I delivered to Vineyard last Monday. It was given to Bo by Mickey. So, again, nothing.

The Sheriff wanted Bo to give him Mickey Kundert's phone number in order to confirm he'd received the bike from Vineyard, but Livermore PD nixed that notion. As far as LPD was concerned, the bike was NOT stolen and that was good enough for them.

But, Bo was arrested for resisting arrest. (Case number 143727, CEN 3331502)

Bo says the Livermore Police did not think they had any reason to arrest him, but the Sheriff's Deputy insisted on it. Bo also says the LPD kept Bo's Backpack and Bicycle and returned it to him this morning.

Bo called LPD this morning and spoke to the property room, and the lady there informed him that not only was his bike there, but so was his backpack and his napsack.

He was mightily impressed with that.

What it was he did to resist arrest... I can't figure out based on what he told me. I was interested in the case simply because it involved the bike I delivered. It happened the very next day. The story Bo told just... well, I found it a little disturbing.

Apparently Judge Hugh Walker was also little curious about what Bo's crime was.

Bo spent Tuesday though Monday in Santa Rita, and was released at shortly after 10pm Monday.

The larger question for me is this: what's the Sheriff's office doing in Livermore? I'm really curious. Is LPD that undermanned? I've heard a few stories about Sheriff Dept action in Livermore that have been bothering me.

Now, keep in mind, I have never, ever had any serious issues with LPD behaviour. I've described a couple of incidents, but they were so ridiculously minor they don't bother me. But this story Bo just told me is only the latest in a growing line of stories about Sheriff's deputies in Livermore that are just disturbing. Bo's story will have me paying much, much closer attention to it.

But, please remember that THIS story is from Bo Busse, and I make no claims as to its accuracy. I'm merely relaying what it is he told me. I'd love to speak to an LPD officer to confirm what Bo told me, but I doubt that'll happen even if I ask.

I will tell you, I do believe Bo. Am I gullible? Maybe. But I still believe him.


UPDATE: Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Ran into Bo Busse again about 12:30 and he relayed the following:

Bo was out and about this morning (August 7), and he was pulled over by an unmarked Dark Blue SUV. The Lawman who came out of the vehicle Bo tells me he immediately recognized from Santa Rita, and he proceeded to ask Bo about the incident from eight days ago.

According to the Sheriff's Deputy today, they had no other unmarked vehicles in Livermore other than his own. And Bo told the Deputy that he did not recognize the Deputy from eight days ago, that he was Hispanic, and had never seen him before that day.

The Deputy this morning told Bo that the Sheriff's Office is taking the incident very seriously and they are looking into it. Bo also tells me the Deputy gave him a personal apology for the incident.

Updates to follow as they come in.


UPDATE: Friday, August 9, 2013

What follows in this update is the Livermore Police report submitted by the arresting officer. I have edited out the identities of the officers as well as the name of the Safeway Employee and the details surrounding the arresting officer's vehicle and detail. It tells a very different version of the story Bo told me, including that there were no Sheriff's Dept. officers involved.


On 7/30/13, approximately 1315 hrs., I was working plain cloths (DETAILS OMITTED) detail looking for burglars in and around the (LOCATION OMITTED). While returning to LPD I heard a call of a theft of alcohol from Safeway (1554 First St.) being dispatched over the radio. I was in he area, so I began an area search for the suspect. LPD Dispatch advised the suspect fled the store on a bicycle and was last seen wearing blue jean shots and a black shirt.

While traveling eastbound on First St. at Second St. I observed the subject matching the description provided by dispatch as the suspect in the case. The subject was riding w/b through the park at First St. and Second St. going toward Valley Memorial (1111 E. Stanley Blvd.). As I got closer to the subject, I recognized him from previous contacts as Bradford Busse. I pulled my car next to Busse as he rode through the parking lot and made eye contact with him. I held my badge where he could see it and said, “Livermore Police, Officer (NAME OMITTED), stop your bike.” Busse looked at me and just continued pedaling.

Next I pulled my vehicle in front of Busse, exited my vehicle, stood directly in front of Busse and identified myself by stating, “Livermore Police, Officer (NAME OMITTED), Get off your bike.” Busse looked directly at me, said, “F*** you!” he was close enough tow here I could have physically grabbed him and pulled him off his bicycle. Based on the fact that we were on an asphalt parking lot, the original reported crime was a non-violent misdemeanor, and the likelihood of Busse being injured if I pulled him off the bicycle, I decided to just get back in my vehicle and continue following him. Sgt. (NAME OMITTED) was in the area.

I followed Busse as he tried to pedal away from me out of the parking lot and onto Murrieta Blvd. Once on Murrieta Blvd., Busse rode westbound. (OFFICER'S NAME OMITTED) unmarked Livermore Police vehicle next to Busse, Sgt. (NAME OMITTED) activated his overhead emergency lights and siren to initiate the stop. Busse finally stopped his bicycle and immediately went into the prone position on the sidewalk. At that point I placed Busse under arrest.

I conducted a search incident to arrest of Busse's person and backpack. No alcohol or other stolen items were located. I placed Busse in handcuffs and had him sit on the curb.

Officer (NAME OMITTED) responded to Safeway and contacted the reporting party, Assistant Store Manager (NAME OMITTED). (Safeway Assist Manager) said Busse placed an unknown bottle of ahcohol in his pants and left the store without making any attempt to pay for the item. Once outside the store, (Safway Assist Manager) confronted Busse and told him if he gave the alcohol back, they would not call the police. Busse told (Safeway Assist Manager), “F*** you!” so (Safeway Assist Manager) returned into the store and called LPD. Brown said he had the theft on video surveillance at a later time. Because Brown could not provide a copy of the video surveillance at that time, Officer (NAME OMITTED) watched the video. Officer (NAME OMITTED) confirmed Busse was seen concealing a bottle of alcohol in his pants and then seen leaving the store.

I asked Officer (NAME OMITTED) to bring (Safeway Assist Manager) to our location for an infield show-up. Officer (NAME OMITTED) provided (Safeway Assist Manager) with the infield show-up admonition and transported him to our location. (Safeway Assist Manager) was positive that Busse was the suspect in the theft.

A records check of Busse revealed a prior conviction for theft with time served in Santa Rita Jail. Busse was also on probation in Alameda County for 148(a)(1)PC. A condition of Busse's probation was to obey all laws. Busse failed to satisfactorily do that when he stole the alcoholic beverage or when he failed to follow a direct order given to him by a police officer.

Based on all that information, I placed Busse under arrest for 666 PC- petty theft with prior time served, 148(a)(1PC- Resisting, obstructing, delaying a peace officer, and 1203.2 PC for the probation violation.

I placed Busse's bicycle and other belongings into safekeeping at LPD, to be returned to him on his release from custody. I also had Officer (NAME OMITTED), my partner in plain clothes operation, take two photographs of me to show what I was wearing and how Iw as identifiable as a police officer at the time of the incident. I booked those images into DIMS at LPD.

Officer (NAME OMITTED) transported Busse to Santa Rita Jail where he was booked into custody without incident.

Recommendation: Forward to D.A. For review.


ADDENDUM: August 9

It is interesting that the Arresting Officer did not observe Bo ditching a bottle (at least there is no mention of it in the report), nor was it found non on Bo's person.

The Arresting Officer did not report Bo to be smelling of alcohol or a sobriety test of any kind. What is on the video? And did, as Bo contends, the Safeway employees search Bo as he asserts or did Bo simply issue an expletive and flee the scene as the Police Report asserts? What I know of Bo tells me he is not the type to run. If he were severely intoxicated, however, the case might be different, but the Police report gives no indication of this.

The conflicting story of his having identified himself and Bo's assertion that he did not is problematic. Bo's belief (when he spoke to me) that he it was a Sheriff's Deputy that was on scene is, of course, an issue. If the Arresting Officer identified himself twice as Livermore Police, why was that a question in Bo's mind?

It is unlikely there will be any further details in the case. IF there are, it will be updated. I hope I have managed to protect LPD's officer's an operations sufficiently with the edits I made to the report.

Despair from a Grieving Sister

Libby's sister Jen posted these thoughts in a comment following up my blog about Libby. In it, I said toward the end that I thought her case was the most heartbreaking of those involving Methamphetamine I was aware of. But I was impressed with Jen's comments for two reasons: one is that she commented at all. And two, the level of despair in her words that... well... read and you'll understand:


Thank you Christian for telling my sister's story.

My family and I love her tremendously. There isn't a day that goes by that we don't think about her.

It's true that she is addicted to Methamphetamine and Leonard is a disease in her life but unfortunately, we cannot blame all of Libby's troubles on him.

My sister also suffers greatly from mental illness - something she started dealing with long before the drug abuse. Unfortunately, given her delicate and vulnerable state, Leonard saw an opportunity and helped push her down a path that she may not be able to recover from.

Sadly, we consider her state fatal. We have staged interventions. My parents have taken her in more times than they can count. Every time she is admitted in to a psychiatric hospital, we beg and plead with the doctors to help us but sadly, our system is so broken, that we cannot get the help she so desperately needs.

In this country, she has the right to be homeless. She has the right to not seek treatment for her condition. She has the right to be with whomever she wants even if it's a Mr. Leonard Mooney. She is an adult and unless she is causing physical harm to herself or to another, she can continue living her life in any destructive way she wants to.

I don't hate those people out there who have negative comments about those that are homeless because I understand those people have a limited understanding. There is a very small percentage of people out there who can understand the pain that we are feeling.

My only hope for those out there who are fortunate enough to have loved ones not going through this is to have compassion for those that are. Every person is different and every person has a story.

Libby is my sister who I love with all my heart. I love the wonderful person she once was and I still love the sweet soul she is today. Forever and ever, Libby.


Just my reaction to this...

When Jen said she and her family considered Libby's condition “fatal” that kinda hit home. And I think, not sure, but I do believe that most who know Libby believe the same thing. I know what it is to love someone who is unreachable...

it is horrifically painful...

A Cautionary Tale from San Francisco

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

My horse trainer's name was Kay Fontain. Wonderful woman, ran into her the other day and we caught up on what it is she's doing, which is still the same, training Horses... gawd I miss that life! One of the great things she taught me about training horses was “To Make The Right Answer Easy, and the Wrong Answer Hard.” What strikes me is how, every day, I see government, through “good intentions,” do exactly the opposite.

I first heard of the “Housing First” homeless model in a Livermore City Town Hall meeting specifically on the Homeless. It took place on Thursday, May 26, 2009, and Panelists included then Police Chief Steve Sweeney, Jean Prashure, head of Human Services for the City of Livermore and representatives from a variety of private groups. But it was representative from Taxpayer Funded Abode that pounded her fist on the table chanting “Housing First! Housing First!”

Okay... Housing First... house the Homeless and see what happens...

Well, now we know. The San Francisco Chronicle is reporting today that even though the homeless have been housed, little has changed. There's still rampant pan-handling, drug use, alcohol abuse in public, urinating and defecating on the streets...

On a far smaller scale, the Volunteers with the Warming Centre can tell you stories about how people who stay there do not suddenly become better people simply because they have a roof over their heads. They do not grow a sense of responsibility or a sense of how their bad behaviour affects those around them.

Outside Holy Cross Church on Mocho, the neighbours began to complain, in February if I remember correctly, about garbage being left on their property. The police had to be called several times, and I've spoken of this.

The very first year I was homeless and began staying at the Warming Centre I remember Kerry complaining one night about how the volunteers were treating the guests like they were in prison. It was after lights out, and one of the volunteers had told her to settle down, and she began her rant on how bad it was. I'm guessing, because I don't exactly recall, but there were probably twenty people there that night. The Serve the City Project has had similar issues with people doing drugs and drinking in the Vineyard Christian Fellowship parking lot on Monday Mornings. Neither of these things happen all the time, but they happen often enough to be a problem.

Imagine these attitudes times one or two hundred. Imagine hundreds of people balking at rules set down.

San Francisco, what do you get when you reward Bad Behaviour? You really believe you're going to get good behaviour?

Any of you who have been following this blog (what is this, the 41st of them? Minus two Baseball entries...) know that I consider standards of behaviour very, very important. I even made up a “Code of Conduct” designed to give those of you out there who are homeless or may find yourselves homeless a model by which to act and not get yourselves into trouble. But what happens when the very worst behaviour not only has no consequence, but is rewarded?

The answer should be obvious, but for those of you government funded types out there who can't seem to find two brain cells to rub together, here's the answer: you get MORE BAD BEHAVIOUR!

Yeah, San Francisco City Council and to all you glorified welfare recipients who “work” for the city, what you're in need of is a drill sergeant!

Putting R. Lee Ermey in charge San Fancisco's homeless might be a good idea. Don't laugh! I'm not joking! People forced to adhere to standards rise to the occasion, especially when survival is involved!

Being homeless is tough. Don't let anyone tell you different. I'm the first one to admit this. But, guess what, you homeless out there are far more resilient than you think you are. You wouldn't be alive and homeless if you were not. You need to get that first and foremost if you haven't already.

Homelessness is already one of the biggest reality checks anyone can face.

Who else needs to get it are those greedy glorified welfare recipients that want to use tax dollars on you to expand their power... I'm not at all confident they will because of government employee and elected official greed. There are very real agendas involved. It would take a whole lot more energy than any one person has to dissolve them. This whole “Housing First” is just one more thing that feeds such agendas. It's only one of many reasons why I am violently opposed to the City of Livermore having anything to do with helping the homeless.



Every single time government gets involved in any kind of social engineering it fails and has unintended negative consequences. The Housing First program in San Francisco is a failure. It has solved nothing, is solving nothing and will never solve anything. You, San Francisco, have made wrong answers easy.

Danny Bonaduce

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

I'm dating myself... but when I was seven years old (that was 1970) I began watching a show called The Partridge Family. It was a contemporary of The Brady Bunch (which everyone seems to know of, even 20 year old kids). But those in my age group remember The Partridge Family largely because of the wise cracking, precocious, freckle faced middle child played by Danny Bonaduce.

Bonaduce's fame from that time is, as most Baby Boomers know, enduring even if he's not in the public eye very much. For that reason Bonaduce's interview with Oprah Winfried is being aired on Sunday August 4th on Oprah's network.

I thought it fascinating to find out Bonaduce was embarrassed to be living homeless.

In the interview Bonaduce talks about how he'd go sign autographs in front of the Chinese Theatre with all the footprints in front of it, then sneak back to the car he lived in once nobody was looking... and it just strikes me how out of the norm I am.

Yeah, it's all about me... of course. But it's not! My friend Frank never wanted his boss to know he was homeless. He lived in his car for years supporting a terminally ill wife in Southern California all the way till the day she died. If you've been following my blogs you'll see Frank come up from time to time, he's the only Frank I've mentioned, always the same guy. And here he was, doing something insanely noble, suffering homelessness so his wife could live comfortably at the end of her life... he's not the only one. All the guys I know who are working homeless share that fear. Frank and all the others were afraid of the stigma of homelessness.

Oh, let me just add this: Bad Behaviour causes that stigma! All you meth-heads out there, all you thieves, all you drunk and disorderly types, and the ones that refuse to take a bath and those of you that set up squalid camp sites: you're the guys that make it difficult for the rest of us by perpetuating that stereotype.

I'm not going to stand here and blame Livermorons at large for disliking the homeless. Experience being what it is, when you run across someone who is so obviously homeless, who looks horrible, smells bad and is holding a sign greedily begging for money... you getting it yet?

I feel for Danny Bonaduce. I truly do. But if I could sit Danny down with me right now I'd stare him in the eye I'd tell him: you were homeless? I wish you had grown a pair and embraced it! Learn to deal with it and teach others that you CAN be homeless and retain your dignity!

You CAN have a job.

You CAN stay clean.

You CAN keep your teeth brushed and wash your face and shave and your keep your hair cut.

You do NOT have to wear clothing till it rots off your body.

And you don't have to play the pity party whenever people find out you're homeless.

You're there!

Own it!

I have to tell all of you that when I was first homeless I was insanely scared and humiliated. The idea that anyone would find out I was homeless was horrifying to me. So, Danny, I get it. I just got sick of trying to hide it. No, you can't come to my place! I don't have one.

And if you, or any of your colleagues in Hollywood find yourselves in that circumstance again, I'm telling you this: Get Over It!

Being homeless is not about who you are. Yes, it has to do with mistakes you've made in the past and how you deal with them. It's how you must live till you manage to, somehow, climb out of it. Being homeless does not change you immediately. It will, however, change you in the long term. It's certainly changed me.

I'm sure being nationally famous opens more than a few doors regardless of circumstance. That's great, you can climb out of it faster than the rest of us. Most of the rest of us don't have those kinds of opportunities, not that I'm begrudging you what you have. But I will tell you this:

My decision to own my circumstance more and more became about protecting myself. It's coloured a lot of what I do. Yeah, fame is involved, not the kind of fame you have, but fame, never the less.

There is, for instance, a photograph of me with my bicycle on a blog I did about living out of a Bicycle. Know what that does? It tells my target audience (who are, themselves, homeless) that this durn thing is mine, and you better not take it because everyone knows it's mine. That it's common knowledge I'm homeless has also kept me out of trouble with both Police and other homeless. People take me seriously when I speak of who's who out there. When I give someone a warning about so-n-so being dangerous: its not ignored, and I have developed a reputation for honesty about such things by... well, being honest about such things.

Call it “Enlightened Self Interest.”

Human beings are social creatures, Danny, and you are connected to the most social of industries. Being homeless does not have to separate you from the world. If you own it, being there can be instrumental in connecting you to it.

Anyway, Danny, glad you're out there now talking about it... better late than never...