Down and Out…Or Not?
Offered by Doug Blair, Waterloo ON, 2022
Suddenly a Homeless One November 09, 2022
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Tom could not recall all the steps. Company pulled back into the States. The Canadian branch plant had proved too costly. Wages and benefits. Rumblings of union certification. Six weeks notice given to a workforce of 45. And fairly well skilled. He was now without the apartment Live-in girlfriend Trina had gotten cold feet and scampered to her sister’s place.
Now it was a tent in a Corner Lot with others suffering diverse misfortunes The City gathering ammunition arguments to shut the whole thing down Soon there would be a hearing in Court
Newfound friends told stories of past retreats under a bridge, break ins to storage sheds, or through back doors of houses for sale. Not very pretty. Nothing to brag about. Felt like the only solution at the time. Or perhaps a space on a hard auditorium floor out of the cold Night by night hassles to get in And Sharing was characteristic of most of them. Oh yeah, there were some who were thieves, or belligerent or crazy. But the streets and hard weather and loneliness and crass rebukes of citizens played nasty games with broken hearts.
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One guy named Phil, seemingly the Camp’s resident Wise Man and Philosopher, read portions of the book Down and Out in Paris by George Orwell. Some would sit with him after dark by propane lamp. Letting their imaginations wander. Talking. Relishing time spent with a few hearts of empathy and support. Breaking the monotony and shame.
Harry’s Thoughts on a Bus Northbound
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October 01, 2022
He was going home. After nine years all over the place. Logging in the West. Flat bed runs out of Winnipeg. Canning factory in Truro. All that had followed those five years in the clink for a really stupid store robbery, armed with big knife. And a good quantity of cocaine courage. Money for the habit dontchyaknow. That had all been hard. (Staying out of the fights. Listening for night time danger. Kicking the habit, a couple of times Monotony in the metal shop for laughable wages )
One large suitcase stored below in the Greyhound Sister Barb's Owen Sound address on a note in his wallet A few simple gifts amassed for her and the two girls They would be in their mid teens now Had bothered with the occasional letter about developments...boyfriends, school hassles, interests blossoming for teaching and pharmacy. No one else wrote or phoned. He had felt so far out of the loop. A no-good ex-con, until some friends at the trucking raised his horizon just a little.
Bus stopped in Guelph. Big guy got on for the seat beside Harry. Grumbled a welcome. Squeezed into the chair beside and moreso. Was this cramped fiasco going to last for the whole remainder?
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Hoped he was not a chatty one. Nope, he was a reader. Out came the pocketbook. Puckered face buried in fiction. Espionage Harry thought.
It would not be a long stay with Barb and hers. But he needed to start somewhere. Stability, encouragement being much in demand. He had missed the chance to help when Steve died. Her wonderful guy. Terrible flatbed accident up on Highway 11 in the fog near Kapuskasing. Two years back. It had weighed on him. No other really sincere connections, except perhaps for that prison Chaplain, and a couple of AZ drivers and the dispatcher woman with one of the companies
Light rain kissing the window at his side Needed sleep and peace ensuing Disturbed and wakened by the Big Boy Reader, who got off with a smile in Durham. Sun had returned again with new freshness for this late September day. Their bus driver had announced at the outset that he would be stopping for forty minutes break and food in Varney. Pebbles was the spot. Wonderful new buffet restaurant, bakery and farmers' market. Take
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out packages being the suggestion. Happy picnic tables over to the side.
Harry was starting to get that feel of an opportunistic teenage adventurer. But he was forty three. Smiling. Looking all around. Even chatting a little bit. Yeah Preacher Buddy, you had been right. 'God is good and full of second and third chances'. GOOD ALL THE TIME. Regardless.
What James Had Said
The epistle from James says that we are always to preface our predictive comments about tomorrow’s events by saying “if the Lord wills it”. For a long time to me, that phrase sounded corny, over the top religious and postured I did not like hearing it Would not use it But then I heard a radio broadcast from the ministry of David Jeremiah (usually very good) He told the story of a pastor who was trying whenever possible to entice a young
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man of adventuresome spirit back into church activity He would meet the fellow on downtown streets or in a mall Quickly the youth would cut short the conversation and zoom away on his motorcycle Often the expression “Lord willing” came up, and the Lad would cringe.
Well, one day an accident on that motorcycle launched a series of impossibly bad events, that had him fearing for his safety and life It almost seemed funny and unbelievable in the telling, but it was all true. Pastor got the report as well. He heard his young friend using the phrase, Lord willing, on several occasions. He shook his hand at Church And at the Christmas Banquet Saw the beaming face in one of the front rows
Can I leave it
In His Hands?
The events
The morrow brings Worry, just so much Lack of love Rather speak as Psalmist sings. (Psalm 23, the Shepherding Psalm)
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