Sept. 05, 2005 - 20:48

LONG HAUL

Mentally walking a mile in the other man's shoes tonight. Visualizing being an able bodied man, relatively unskilled, but energetic, muscular and responsible. Somewhat beat and battered by the New Orleans hurricane, but surviving. Transported to another town, with nothing left behind. What possessions I owned have been ruined by the water, house I lived in there no more. Here I am in a town new to me, living on old Lowry Air Force Base in a community college dormitory. New to the area and I don't know my way around.

I get a map, and find out that directions are easy if I remember that to the west are mountains. The map gives me a slight idea of where things are. In a way.

A counselor gives me some advice, tells me the areas I can reach by public transportation and what the job possibilities exist there. Gives me a few pointers on day laborer jobs and where to seek them.

I imagine applying for a job in donated clothing, some of which might fit. On being asked to fill out an application an address is needed. Right there I see a problem, a problem that many poor folks in this town have, they have no steady, stable address to write on the application, no phone number where they can be reached if a job becomes available.

Trying to explain that I had been flooded out in New Orleans, flown here and lodged at old Lowry - - for who knows how long ?

Having a heavy southern accent, and knowing the blacktop street as a "tar road," and a few other language problems it is easy for me to see that I am in for a long, hard row to hoe.

Yet, I think that I am a bit better off than victims of the storm huddled in Texas who will eventually have to vie for jobs, one refugee in thousands looking for work.

In between I worry about friends and relatives fates that have disappeared from my radar. In my few spare moments I try to contact anyone who can help me find out what happened to them.

Back at the dorms in the evening associating with others of my kind, I hear the bad luck stories of those who are job hunting as I am.

I attend church here, among strangers with a different way of speech. I am made welcome, but am still a stranger nevertheless. Penniless, no job, wearing donated clothes and depending on the state or whoever is financing our exodus from New Orleans for food, medical attention and most any other thing a man could want or need.

I am very grateful for the kindness of people and accept what is given me without complaint with humble thanks and a willingness to comply with what is expected of me.

Each night I ponder and guess how long it will have to be before I have a place to live that I pay rent for, an income perhaps better than the one I had back home, anyway, enough to live on.

I am not an unfriendly person, nor a hermit and like to be among people and have friendly visits and suitable recreation. But to me a situation like that for me seems to be so far in the future that this 40 year old man fears he will be too old and feeble to appreciate it when it finally happens.

I wonder, how long before I lose heart and just give up and join the homeless of this town, depending on the largess of strangers ?

So, for now I set my jaw and determine to go for it, even though it is obviously a LONG HAUL . . . . . . . . . .

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