<!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} </style></div>I have a mortal fear of homelessness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Mor-tal.</b><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>Adj.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Continuing, or intended to continue, until somebody die. </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Relating to or accompanying death</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Intensely felt</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">All of these definitions apply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://comedyconglomerate.files.wordp..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://comedyconglomerate.files.wordp..." width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">I have an ongoing story that runs homeless scenario’s too.<br /><br />I’ve already figured out the gear I need: a tent, an air mattress, a bundled pillow, a tarp for over and under my tent, a knife, a flashlight, pepper spray, jerky, dried mango's, toothbrush, floss, a good sized water bottle, a bike, a bike trailer and a extra long, extra sturdy lock. Oh yeah, I'd need a little cooler.  <br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>It's not an everyday obsession or a psychotic condition.  My fear is under control.  I'm not crazy.  But it's there and is the worst when I walk into a grocery store or go to get a cup of coffee.  Or drive.   Each of these activities, part of my daily life, inevitably include meeting a homeless person who holds a sign and waits for me to give him something.  Anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span><br /><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">The moment I see the dirty clothes, the cracked nails, the slumped posture of defeat--I'm paralyzed like Superman in the presence of Kryptonite.  My stomach seizes up and I try to figure out what to do.  Dig into my bag for change?  Take a sudden interest in my latent cell phone?  Reverse my course and blow of the grocery run?  </span><br /><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">It's a terrible feeling.  I want to be helpful, I do.  But I'm just mortified by the need.  </span><br /><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Worse, I worry that person could be me because sometimes I'm barely make ends come together around my house.  I'm one disaster away from the same fate.  Or so it goes in my head.  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">My fear it not new.  </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://cdn.smosh.com/sites/default/fi..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://cdn.smosh.com/sites/default/fi..." width="320" /></a>Some kids were scared of the dark or of spiders.  My fear has always been living on the streets.   </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve never been homeless but I’ve been close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  After my mom and dad died, when I was seven and then nine years old, </span>I was dropped in a place where I had no parents, no barriers between me and strangers and I went without food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">   </span><br /><br />During that time in my life, age ten in Los Angeles, I dropped out of school and cruised the streets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>I was still in elementary school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>I begged change so I could go watch a movie, rather than go to school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>I begged change other times to get a glazed donut from Winchell's.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>Back then, my goals were pretty small and I can see myself--this little parentless kid--scared witless about how I could be on the streets pretty fast.  It was like being on a slide and gravity was in charge.  </div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I didn't end up on the streets.  I was saved.  Barely.  I moved from home to home until finally I was adopted by an aunt and uncle who used to tell me, "if it wasn't for us, you'd be on the streets.  Nothing.  Trash."</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Maybe that's where my fear was given soil to root.  <br /><br />It's one thing to have a fear and adapt to it.  It's another thing to face a fear.<br /><br />What if I could turn the corner on this fear?  What if, for a year, I could I move through my day, as a mother, a writer, a writing teacher, a member of a community being North East Portland where I shop, eat, walk, bike and drive and give something to every homeless person I meet up with? It wouldn't have to be a lot. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A quarter. A dollar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>Whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>What if I also looked each man or woman I meet in the eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  What if I said hello?  </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Could I finally put this fear to rest?  Could I learn a thing or two about homelessness and myself?  </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />Come with me and we'll see.  <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com...' alt='' /></div>