On a quiet midnight street.
"I want to run
I want to hide
I want to tear down the walls
That hold me inside
I wanna reach out
And touch the flame
Where the streets have no name"
- U2, 1987
Honesty is all that some have left
"Can I have a sleeping bag to give to a friend of mine who stays under the bridge with me," He quietly asked. I smiled, "Do you need one as well?" He then told me, "No, I have plenty of blankets... but he doesn't."
I always love how honest the homeless men and women I come in contact with are in regards to their needs. They are always careful to not take what they do not plan on using.
"It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit." - Noel Coward
Welcome to Catoosa County, Georgia
"In case you want to know what she will do [showing me the reading on the radar gun]," he said laughing. Deputy Bobby Persinger was one of the nicest deputies I have ever met, considering the circumstances (speeding).
"You were only 6 when I joined the force," he said with a smile. He works for the Catoosa County Sheriff's Office in Georgia.
"Man, did you see that car," as he pointed at an antique Chrysler drive by on the interstate.
"How much will this ticket cost me anyway," I asked with curiosity. He smiled, "I don't know, they just give us a badge and a gun and say protect the roadways [chuckling]."
No stranger to speed: I later learned that in the late 1970's, the Catoosa County Sheriff's Office had a fleet of Pontiac Trans Am's. In fact, they were famous for their cars at one point. In 1978, the Sheriff's Office owned 8, all four speeds. An article was even printed in a 1979 Car and Driver magazine about their cars. The cars were purchased under the leadership of Sheriff J. D. Stewart.
Today, none are known to be in existence.
Age 22 and alone on the streets
She is only 22-years old and lives in a small tent with her dog secluded from others in the woods of Nashville. She has a cross around her neck and works hard to sell the "Faith Unity" paper to passerby's. She told me, "This was the only job I could get." I bought five, assuming that would help in some little way.
Before I could walk away, two different well dressed, but intoxicated men approached her asking to pet the dog. I questioned their intentions, but not out loud. It left me thinking, "This is someones young daughter or are her parents even living?"
"Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat." - Mother Teresa
Running Away
I met John in Nashville this past Saturday night. It was almost poetic to see him standing on the sidewalk with the lights of Music City behind him as he tilted back his beer. Almost.
He told me that he moved here from another state to start over, but it wasn't working as he planned. I asked, "What are you running from?" With curiosity, he said, "What do you mean?" I replied... "Drugs, a girl, alcohol?" His smile turned to a frown as he replied, "Alcohol, these streets are going to kill me. I've tried to stop, but every penny I get goes to buy more. I can't stop."
I then asked the soft spoken 65-year old man, "Do you want to stop drinking?" He smiled, "I sure do!"
John did not have a cell phone so I knew looking for him on a sober morning would be like hunting down a needle in a haystack, but I hit the streets on Monday in Nashville in search of John. I found him.
Long story short, he did a phone interview to get into a treatment center located in North Carolina. He is now on the short list to be accepted. Hopefully, he will be on his way to the 65-day treatment program within the next three weeks.
Half Life in Prison
“I spent half my life in prison,” he told me looking down. “Why,” I asked with curiosity. “Guns and drugs, I was sentenced in federal court at age 30, today I am 62,” he said. Then he chuckled, “But, I met a girl the other night… I’m staying with her over there [pointing to a nearby rundown motel], she’s 30.” I laughed a little and responded, “Well good for you.” He then smiled real big and said, “She’s a pretty little thing.”
Bernard Kerik a former police officer, convicted felon, and consultant who served as New York City Police Commissioner from 2000 to 2001 once said, “Going to prison is like dying with your eyes open.”