South Coast Rock Tour
~ Day 9 ~
Shoes for Henry…Congress Street…Steve…Safe at Schlung’s.
Yesterday was amazing. And today would be the same. The
first two nights in Austin, I had the luxury of sleeping in a bed with Molly’s
wise persistence, though last night, I wanted to sleep in my truck. Yes, you
heard me correct: The backseat of my truck was preferred over a real bed. It’s
something that isn’t hard to explain, rather it’s hard for people to
understand. The freedom, the unknown, the minimalism, the survival aspect… it’s
all woven together to form the adventure of living in one’s vehicle.
I was eager and excited to be back in Tumbler last night.
Plugged a Walmart into my GPS and drove there after my beautiful time downtown.
I wrote, my phone calls and went into the store to buy Singing Henry new shoes
(his were falling apart) and buy Mark Anthony a new backpack that I filled with
essentials as well as two sketch pads, Sharpies, and colored pencils. Back at
Tumbler, I wrote late into the night. At 1am, I saw red and blue lights pull
behind me. The cop car then pulled at an angle by my driver’s side window. I knew
what was going to happen… they were kicking people out of the parking lot. The
cop was really cool, unlike several who have told me to move along from other
lots. I thanked him for being nice and he told me that there’s no need to be rude
and he was trying to encourage the other cops he worked with to use the same
kindness he displayed. He told me there was a Walmart 5 miles away that was a
24-hour lot. And so, I drove there and continued writing till 3am.
Woke up at 10am and took my time getting ready for the day.
A guy knocked on my window and I rolled it down. “Ma’am, could you spare a
dollar or two?” --- “Hey Buddy. What do you need the money for?” --- “Honestly
ma’am, I’m not gonna lie. You look like the type that I can just give ya a
straight answer. I need the money for my next hit.” --- “Thanks for telling me
the truth, man. I’m Katie. What is your name?” --- “Gescow, but most people
call me G.” We talked for a about 5min. and I learned a lot in those few
minutes about G, his addiction, and his wanting to kick it someday, but not
today. I didn’t give him money, but gave him two of the brownies Lisa had given
me, some granola bars, and a rock with “Faith” on it. I reached through the
window to hug G. Often, people ask for one thing, but really need something
else. Love… right where they are in their journey.
At noon, I was downtown Austin and went straight to the
Arch. Didn’t go inside today, but walked around the perimeter of the building
amidst the sea of sad people. Gave nods and made eyes contact with many but
kept my head down most of the time. If I wasn’t “undercover homeless” I
wouldn’t have received one nod in return, but for sure, everyone would have
been making eye contact with me. Like all cultures, classes, and collections of
people, there is a certain level of acceptance towards those who are similar
and a certain level of exclusion towards those who are different. I wish that
we humans weren’t like this, but it is often how it is. The reasons and purpose
of the “undercover homeless” will be elaborated on more in future writings. For
now, I will simply give two reasons: 1) It gives me the ability to be similar…
on the same level as those on the streets. They can feel safe around me. And
they share more of their story with me because I understand (this understanding
is not part of the disguise, for I have lived on the streets) and 2) It gives
me the ability to see, firsthand, how other people who have houses and money respond
to me. Most people won’t even acknowledge a homeless person and often ignore or
avoid them. I would experience this today.
Away from the Arch, I saw Singing Henry sitting on the same
steps that led to nowhere. Oh, how I wish he would take actual steps towards
something that took him somewhere. Walking towards him, he yelled, “Hey Katie!
Was hoping to see you again. How did you sleep last night?” --- “Henry! I slept
pretty good. Good to see you, brother.” We hugged and I sat down next to him.
“See you found yourself a skateboard there.” --- “Yeah, now I just need to
learn how to ride it.” I reached into my backpack and pulled out the new grey
and white shoes. “Got these for you.” --- “Dang girl, those are for me? I needed
some new shoes. Thanks!” We talked for a while and then the drug dealer from
yesterday came walking over to us. His mood was, well, moody. I pulled out a
cig for Henry and me, then offered one to the gruff guy. “I don’t need nothing
from you, unless you can get me more money. Money is everything.” He had pulled
out a wad of $20’s, $10’s and $5’s from his customers transactions. “See this
hear (waving the bills). This is my god.” My reply was soft-spoken, “It is said
that we cannot have 2 masters. We will either love God or love money.” This did
not bode well with him. Henry sat in silence as the dealer and I went back and
forth about god vs. God, our definitions of prosperity, the difference between
worldly happiness and lasting joy. It was intense, though not argumentative. At
first, he was loud and making proclamations, which I would listen to and then
ask question that actually had statements in them. His tone calmed down as we
conversed and his anger lessened. I challenged him and he challenged me. Deep
conversations are like a savory meal, leaving me full and with much to digest.
It was time to move on from Singing Henry and the dealer whose pockets were
full of money, yet his heart was empty of joy.
It was 1pm and I was hoping to merge paths with Mark Anthony
for another elevated hug and to give him the backpack full of art supplies. Walked
around for a long time and didn’t see him. I would go to the outskirts of
downtown Austin another day to look for him. Mark had made me a map on a
12”x20” piece of paper on which he drew directions to his sleeping spot. He
told me that if he wasn’t downtown, that this would be where I could find him.
Really hope to see my new buddy again.
Went back to the parking lot where Tumbler was. I was at the
driver’s side door crouched down by my pack and about to pull out my keys when
a guy walked up on me. Scared the dickens out of me, for I didn’t see or hear
him till he was right next to me. We get pretty good at learning how to be
quiet and unseen when on the streets. “Hey, sorry if I scared you. Was
wondering if you wanted to trade me this bus ticket for a couple bucks.” This
trading system is very common on the streets. “I’m saving my dollars for some
food later, but I have something for you anyway.” Pulled out my bag of pebbles
and let him pull one. It said, “Be Brave”. His name was Howea. After talking a
bit about being brave amidst the struggles in this big city, we hugged and he
walked away. While passing the front of my truck, he said, “Dang, look at all
those sunglasses and those big goggles in the windshield! That person has a
thing for bright colors.” --- “Wow! They sure do!” When Howea was out of sight,
I hopped in that truck he didn’t know belonged to me.
Walked around town till a beautiful and busy street flicked
my antennas. This was Congress Street. Felt it was a good area to sit down and
write on my rocks. I set up my pre-scribed rocks on my green hanker chief and
lined up my Sharpie markers next to them. I sat on my adopted skateboard and
scribed rocks for the next hour and a half. Not one person stopped to take a
rock or stopped to take a closer look at the girl writing on rocks. Not one
person made eyes contact for more than 1 second, no one said hello, nodded at
me, and all but 5 people didn’t even acknowledge that I was sitting there less
than 5ft away from where they walked. This is part of the said 2cd reason why I
like being “undercover homeless” for it is fascinating (and sad) to me how
people react and respond to those who are homeless. For the few who do stop and
squat down to talk to me (this would happen over the next few days), I always
thank them at the end of our conversation for having the unique heart to
acknowledge me, then thank them for taking the time to go beyond seeing me and
to speak to me. I realize there are many reasons why most do not want to engage
with those on the streets. Will talk about this in a later post. This paragraph
is to portray awareness, rather than guilt. There are many, many people in the
world whose eyes and heart are open to those who go unseen or unnoticed. It is
often rare to be aware beyond your own square.
I packed up my backpack, flipped the skateboard into my
hand, and headed back to “Dirty 6th”. At least there, some of my own
“tribe” would be acknowledging. And that they were. My new family members
traded nods, smiles, high fives, fist pumps, hugs, and words. Went into a
souvenir store to look at their collection of shoes… which consisted of 15
pairs of men’s shoes in large sizes. Was looking for a small shoe for a tiny lady
I saw yesterday who had only one shoe on. A man walked in the store to buy a
drink. He overheard me asking the owner if there were other stores that would
have a larger selection of shoes. The juice man told me not to bother looking
at the store. The two of us walked outside continued our conversation. His name
was Steve. He lives in Austin though is originally from New York. I gathered from
his sharing that Steve doesn’t live on the streets, though he hangs out with those
on the streets. Similar to me, though very different. Steve was still involved
in most of the activities that come with living on the streets. He had a truck
and offered to take me to a Walmart and even buy the shoes for me. It was cool
to talk with Steve, but I had an unsettling feeling about hopping in a truck
with him. Thanked him for the offer but declined. Gave him a “Smile” rock and
told him to pass it on to someone who needed to smile. “I’m keeping this rock.
I am the one who needs to smile more.”
Back at Tumbler’s door, it was 4pm. Needed to get on the
road to make it to my friend, Elaine’s house by 5pm. Traffic is crazy here in
Austin, especially during the long rush hour. Was about to start the engine,
when I saw a man sitting on a ledge across the lot. He looked sad and lost in
his thoughts. I wondered who or what he was thinking about that brought so much
sadness. Pulled out my keys from the ignition and opened the back hatch to grab
some granola bars and a pair of socks. Went over to the guy whose name was
Troy. He was a quiet man who whispered his words. Troy told me that he slept in
the alley here and had 2 squirrels that visited him every morning. Animals are
such faithful friends. I would see Troy again the next 2 days.
Traffic was, indeed, bad. I got to my friend’s house at 5:30
and her whole family came at 6pm to feast on pizza. The fellowship with true,
authentic Christians was more filling than the pizza. The Schlung’s are full of
love for others and love for Jesus. I slept peacefully in their home that night.
I would spend most of tomorrow with Elaine, whose friendship I cherish.
Sometimes
The greatest gift
Is to see someone.
Unshakeable Peace and Purpose
Cling to the Rock
Psalm 18:1-2
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