Today I am thankful for community.
When I was seventeen, I became homeless.
It was very a very brief experience because of the saviors in my life.
My parents were dead. I lived with an uncle who had a girlfriend who wanted me out of the house.
Lets just say she was abusive.
My best friend's mother offered me a place to stay - until- she realized just how much he liked me.
He is the one who haunts me dreams.
His mother was more than accurate in her perceptions.
Wouldn't you know it?
A man came to my rescue.
I was saved by a gay man.
His name is Jim.
Jim helped me get an apartment in an area known for it's large presence of LGBT people.
He and his friends made sure I got to school on time.
Jim and I would hold hands as we walked through the streets of Denver. Back in '87, the Denver cops were known to beat up gay men. All the gay men I know learned to fight. They had to fight to stay alive.
He played every instrument under the sun. We had so much in common. Jim, as strange as it sounds, was my favorite girlfriend.
He didn't laugh when I wanted to wear lace and silk. In my family, I was laughed at for wearing dresses. That's probably because the boys would throw rocks at small animals and I'd wrestle them to the ground to take their rocks away.
I got wise to it at fourteen. The boys seemed to like the wrestling more than I did.
I was such a tomboy that if I wore a dress or the color pink, I would get no end of crap for it.
When I grew up, I rebelled.
I had a pink lacy apartment. My clothes were lacy. My curtains, couch and table were pink.
Wanna guess who decorated it?
Jim did. He knew me.
I always swore if I had a son, I'd name him James T.
James after the latter.
T after the former.
Alas, all I have are little girls (even the informally adopted ones).
The T is not lost. It's my middle name. In fact my DJ friends call me Sheila T.
It's probably because it reminds them of an 80's singer.
******************************
On a hunch, I grabbed the girls and went to a festival. Whenever I need to meet fellow activists, I find them in the strangest of places....grocery stores, famers' markets, golf courses and street fairs.
This street fair is in the very neighborhood I lived in with Jim. In fact, it is held at the very park where I would hang out with the homeless back in the 80's.
That's where we were today.
Usually, at these fairs I meet musicians I know.
I didn't today.
I often meet activists I know.
I did not run into anyone I knew today. Even the Libertarians were all new (that's weird, too).
I met vegetarians who invited my latest addition into their fold. We're going to go to their cooking demonstrations.
I met a woman who offers counseling to people picked on for their sexual orientation. I made sure to get her cards because I meet a lot of people who need someone who understands them in that capacity.
I met a young man trying to stop gay conversion therapy.
I met a group of pit bull activists - get this....in AURORA!
[grinning]
I also met homeless activists from AURORA. When I shared with them my concern about our archaic housing codes, they gave me the contact information for their leadership team.
This is what life is all about.....networking and connecting.
If I can help get stuff done without being in the public eye, I'd feel better about it.
*****
I sat next to a man who was called Cobber.
He was sitting against a lamp post eating a Turkey leg. He asked for some money.
I don't carry cash because I'm typically prone to dropping my purse.
I apologized and he said "It's okay, I'm not important."
That upset me - so I sat next to him.
We spoke for bit.
He said someone bought him lunch. He hadn't been on the streets very long. His sleeping bag was new.
I had to ask him, "If you are so unimportant, why would a stranger buy you lunch?"
He didn't answer. Maybe he hadn't considered that.
He's important.
I caught on to his Australian nickname and told him that my Australian nickname was Sheila. My parents weren't very original. They named me girl.
He laughed.
We talked as I started to remove things from my purse. Usually I can find a couple of dollars at the very bottom of the purse. I removed an alleged djinn ring*, my broken blue hypnosis ring, a spelled rock, a couple of tampons and a handful of receipts. There was probably $2.50 sitting at the bottom of the purse.
I told him that it was lucky to carry a quarter with your birth year on it. I learned that he was my age.
I didn't have a quarter from the late 60s.
He asked me why I cared about him.
The answer is simple. It could be me. Tomorrow I could be sitting where he is sitting now. We all make mistakes. We all have bad luck. Most of us are one paycheck away from living on the streets.
I pointed out into the crowd, it could be any one of us.
He teared up.
We promised to pray for each other and I bid him farewell.
He told me his real name.
I'll look for him the next time I'm in the area.
I'll be there in two weeks for an activist event.
I think the Gods put us in conversations with people who talk sense into us. Little did this man know that his conversation only furthered my resolve to take on bad laws that put people on the street.
****************
Last night I spent a lot of time thinking about toxicity.
I thought about.....
Toxic men - the kind who hit, stalk and steal.
Toxic jobs - the kind that offer you minimum wage after they interview you for a $16 an hour job. Mind you, $16 an hour is a heck of a pay cut for me.
Toxic politicians and governments - the kind where the leadership are in a little world of their own. They are in a bubble and completely oblivious to the real issues facing the people.
I wondered.....Would it be so bad to leave?
I leave idiotic men.
I leave idiotic jobs.
Why can't I leave a decent city with an idiotic government?
That's the problem. I'm not completely sure that the problem in my city is with the council. I saw a recent article where the city council members are complaining that the city employees don't answer their questions.
That was my experience, too. I was lied to a lot. In my world view, the lies came from the City Attorney's office and The City Manager's Office.
Why can't the City Council replace the City Attorney and the City Manager if they won't shape up?
Something seems off.
I'll pray to my Gods about it.
I wouldn't mind leaving.
Challenges are my undoing.
Love ya,
S.