Wednesday October 31 - Got Her
They finally got her.
"Food Truck!!!" somebody yelled, but there was little motion in any direction by the crowd who congregates in front of the ARCH. But we thought it prudent to get up from our seated position on the patio and take a look around. You never know just where the food wagon might decide to park itself and if you are not attentive a mass of flesh can engulf it and being at the end of the line find you literally "holding the bag" … empty. But as it happened and we were looking for the food truck, it drove by and up Neches and across 8th street and parked on the side of the road. We immediately began our quick paced walk up the hill and into a relatively secure and front position in line.
After a few minutes, and a minimal amount of butting in line, we made it to the front and received our meal for the evening, two bologna and cheese sandwiches, a small bag of cheeze-its and cookies, a banana, and an eight ounce carton of milk. Not too bad actually, and there was enough to fill us. Oh, and a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, take your pick. We made it back down the hill to our seats on the patio, ground floor special, and had our picnic dinner. Across the street, between the side walk and the street, sat about a half dozen regulars, eating and doing their usual bull shitting. After a few moments two bicycle police arrived. They began questioning a woman sitting on the street curb, and others around her began to disperse. At first I couldn't recognize her. She appeared better looking than I had seen her before, hair made up well, clean clothes and colored reflecting sunglasses. I thought I recognized her, but I could not be sure. Then she turned to reveal her profile, I knew who it was, the woman with the prosthetic leg who had been harassed at least three times before.
The police examined her I.D. and went to one of the bikes and returned with the ties used as hand cuffs. They were arresting her. This was not making any sense. She had only been sitting on the street curb above a rain grate. The cops looked uncomfortable as they tied her hands behind her back and the proceeded to do a superficial search for weapons and such. One cop kept glancing around, monitoring the onlookers. At some point the police paddy wagon arrived on the corner of Neches and 7th streets. The officers escorted her to the paddy wagon and a cruiser pulled up near the parked bikes and observed.
The young woman gave no resistance. She cooperated with what I would describe as grace and dignity. I do not know her name. I have seen her around the ARCH since I first arrived here. She is mulatto and most she associates with are black. I do not believe she is involved in any drug activity, other than occasionally smoking some marijuana, but for some reason the police have repeatedly made her the target of their harassment. Now they got her, arrested … for sitting on a curb, eating her dinner.
In the late sixties or early seventies I would have been raising hell about this. But as I looked around there was no consolidated consensus among those standing around. Gandhi once said to be effective as a leader "find a parade and then get in front of it". There was no parade to lead here, only a few mumbling souls, but not any direction or purpose. Only a chance to get thrown in jail and no one is up to that, at least … not now …. Not yet.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Sunday October 28 - Classes and Religion
Sunday October 28 - Classes and Religion
There are two ideas that are going through my mind, or should I say "My mind keeps returning too". First, the idea of "class struggles", by this I do not mean economic classes, or social as in the concept of nobility and peasantry or even political, which may be tied to either. But rather the classes as may be distinguished by attitude and developed mature character. The second is the notion that religion's purpose was first as the teacher or framework to explain the realities we experience, based on the known sciences. These sciences being astrology and natural knowledge of the world we inhabit. Religion being post shamanic and only narrowly retaining some minute evidence of this predecessor, progressively losing most or all shamanic vision as doctrine and creed became more authoritative and established. Eventually religion ceased to convey the knowledge garnered through the insights into the "real" world and became a tool of control, relying on misinterpreted and manipulated myths, at the whim and will of those sufficiently in power and seeking ways and means to maintain that position and power.
The "homeless" give little thought to anything that does not profit for survival. By the "homeless" I, for the greater degree, do not include those who indiscriminately abuse social services intended for the less fortunate, without homes or shelter, although this is a very grey area and I cannot be absolute in my own judgment. There are the "homeless" who violate virtually any and every code of normal social conduct. Generally I would find these to be younger whites and blacks with attitudes, wishing to strike back at institutions and families that do not measure up in their eyes. These more often than not indulge in the use of drugs and alcohol and be damned what tomorrow brings. Among the black community ages run higher, into old age. I leave it to others to parse out the reasons for this as I am not an expert on racial issues or the experience of blacks as individuals or as a race. I only observe what is the obvious. Yet, as regards the homeless as such, drugs and rebellious behavior is not the primary concern or desire, only getting enough to eat, a place to sleep and make it to the next day and hopefully a little progress out of what seems dire conditions.
In the overall homeless community I find classes of people. I know the idea of "classes" offends many, from different political ideologies, but for sake of my explanation and argument I will refer to "classes". On average, most would qualify as normal, decent, average "Joes". They do not over demand or expect such as cannot be logically expected. They do not raise a lot of "guff" when things do not work as expected, but rather work their way through difficult situations, doing what they "gotta do" to make it to the other side. Then there are those who do whatever is necessary, pushing their way to the front and past showing no respect for any but themselves. These begin the descent from common courtesy and into the abyss of anti-social behavior. Then there are the manipulators, the opportunists. These feign friendship and desire to barter favors, and for a while seemingly altruistic actions begin to draw the unsuspecting in, only to be caught in another web of deceit and possibly becoming a snare too difficult to escape. Then we have the preachers. These come in two flavors, the ones who are truly "brainwashed" and have to do everything in their power to convert you and then those who find religious verbiage and dogma a convenient harbor and escape from their own responsibility for the consequences of their own reckless and unthinking actions in their own lives. This includes virtually all loud mouth drunks and drug users preaching to any and all and nobody. Then there are those with legitimate mental and psychological deficiencies. All too often using their infirmity as a convenient excuse to ignore usual common courtesy. Beyond these those who find any excuse to justify rude, self-centered behaviors to the disrespect of any. And of course those who simply don't give a damn, no excuse is necessary. Unfortunately it is all of these who are the recipients of the services offered and all too often, the more offensive and obnoxious one may become, the more one is treated with "kid gloves", the more civil and courteous suffering impunity, the result of placating the unruly and hoping to keep them in line.
But there is a turn in attitude I am observing. Hither to I have observed and acted myself without asserting my rights or the rights of others as they are infringed upon. Others, of a more decent character, as well as myself, are speaking up and putting ourselves at risk as the less noble characters attempt to pull their "tricks", get in another's face, butt in line and such. Too be sure there is risk, a fight could ensue, but more often than not, the offending party will get the message, they are being watched, and not by security, but by us, the ones they have to sit with and eat with, and we aren't putting up with your crap anymore. Too be sure, one person cannot stand alone, but when two or three begin seeing the same thing and have the "balls" to speak up, maybe not at first, not immediately, but progressively, the offenders back down. They eventually get the message. And yes, there is the risk of things backfiring, or reprisals, wherever. Such is the nature of some characters.
But as I look at these classes of characters I can't help but wonder and ask, "What differences are there in these 'homeless' that is not the same in the overall gamut of society?" And I cannot see anything different overall. The only difference is that in the homeless community the guise of civilization is breaking down. In the overall "civilized" world the same character faults exist only hidden, disguised by the illusion of being civilized.
I once had lived with an idyllic concept of how humans were to relate to one another. I had egalitarian notions that all are equal, and one man's truth and value were as important as another's. And, to be sure, if democracy is our ultimate ideal then egalitarianism may be justified. But that is not the real world. The real world is full of multitudes of "me first and damn the rest". And this makes for no real civilization or dynamic human relations which lend support to human advancement. But I could not see this as long as the trappings of civilization were sufficiently in place. It is not a "housed" or "unhorsed" homeless problem. It is a human character problem. It is not a lack of religion problem; it is a need for a relevant religion problem, a religion that takes into account all the new and advancing concepts, theories and facts upon which the whole of our technological world is built upon.
I have no problem with "myth" as such. But myth needs to be relevant and understood as a "picture", a "framework", metaphor, and not as a literal testimony of reality. Our religious myth needs to teach us of our connection to ourselves, each other, our world and the universe.
Concepts of the past, based on the limited knowledge and understanding of the times have had their multi-millennial reign. We have moved into a new millennium, our "faith" in our "gods" has needs to keep pace and communicate in the language and knowledge of the present.
I believe should our "faiths" not evolve we face the disintegration of our world cultures. Possibly to be replaced by totalitarian states willing to establish themselves as the ultimate reality to which we all bow down.
My sister once told me something my father told her as she was embarking on a new life in the west. "There are the fuckers you don't know, and there are the fuckers you know." … the implication being trust no one even those you think you know. I wish I had such a conversation with my father but our relations were always strained through my teen years and virtually non-existent later in my teens and early twenties.
Experience, in what may be considered the most trusted of social settings has confirmed this cynical attitude. Religious settings ( churches and other institutions) have proved to be the most unreliable when it comes to trusting their integrity. Now I do not wish to condemn unequivocally all the out workings of these institutions, but merely point to the fact that they are managed and run by finite, imperfect human beings whose primary concern is ultimately their own well-being, and there is no such thing as an objective decision as such. Decisions will always reflect one’s personal well-being, or the well-being of those one is closest too.
This being the case, whether it is a religious or secular institution makes little difference. They are both managed and manned by imperfect human beings. The only advantage, or probably more to the fact, disadvantage the religious institution has on the secular is there is a presumed altruistic motive that supposedly surpasses the secular. But if the actions and attitudes of the religious adherents does not compliment the official doctrine and dogma, the religious suffers the reality and embarrassment as being caste as hypocrites. Unfortunately many, if not all religious groups rely on past reputation to carry them through potentially embarrassing situations. It all comes down to "image". If you can make the public believe anything they will be reluctant to admit that anything different is the reality. That is precisely the strength that current religious institutions enjoy, two thousand years of acceptance. And we are all, to some degree, educated and taught to think in terms of this religious framework.
But times are changing, progress continues and science advances ever so slowly, often in spite of some of our most noted scientists. And religion, of needs to survive, will adapt accordingly. The alternative is too dire to consider.
Amidst all this confusion of attitudes, classes and adaptation there are "wild cards". In the situation here in Austin the homeless have a support system in place. The politics surrounding the existence of this is too complicated to know at present what will be the future. Yet, for the present, such support exists and as has evolved there is individuals who lend themselves to the functioning of this system. These persons do not necessarily make up a class of their own, but rather manifest out of and in the midst of all classes. There are men who have made their home in relation to the support system and not out of religious necessity, but rather innate human concern, volunteer their time and energies to aid others, either as part of the system or independently. These are not perfect "saints" as may be thought of in religious terms, they are faulted as any, but find it in themselves to extend themselves beyond themselves. These have my respect, and though I know none personally their presence and effect to the functioning and benefit of others cannot go unobserved. It is in "their spirit" that I find hope for the future, nit necessarily of the system, but of the human species. These, regardless of the system can and will adapt and make things function for the rest.
There are two ideas that are going through my mind, or should I say "My mind keeps returning too". First, the idea of "class struggles", by this I do not mean economic classes, or social as in the concept of nobility and peasantry or even political, which may be tied to either. But rather the classes as may be distinguished by attitude and developed mature character. The second is the notion that religion's purpose was first as the teacher or framework to explain the realities we experience, based on the known sciences. These sciences being astrology and natural knowledge of the world we inhabit. Religion being post shamanic and only narrowly retaining some minute evidence of this predecessor, progressively losing most or all shamanic vision as doctrine and creed became more authoritative and established. Eventually religion ceased to convey the knowledge garnered through the insights into the "real" world and became a tool of control, relying on misinterpreted and manipulated myths, at the whim and will of those sufficiently in power and seeking ways and means to maintain that position and power.
The "homeless" give little thought to anything that does not profit for survival. By the "homeless" I, for the greater degree, do not include those who indiscriminately abuse social services intended for the less fortunate, without homes or shelter, although this is a very grey area and I cannot be absolute in my own judgment. There are the "homeless" who violate virtually any and every code of normal social conduct. Generally I would find these to be younger whites and blacks with attitudes, wishing to strike back at institutions and families that do not measure up in their eyes. These more often than not indulge in the use of drugs and alcohol and be damned what tomorrow brings. Among the black community ages run higher, into old age. I leave it to others to parse out the reasons for this as I am not an expert on racial issues or the experience of blacks as individuals or as a race. I only observe what is the obvious. Yet, as regards the homeless as such, drugs and rebellious behavior is not the primary concern or desire, only getting enough to eat, a place to sleep and make it to the next day and hopefully a little progress out of what seems dire conditions.
In the overall homeless community I find classes of people. I know the idea of "classes" offends many, from different political ideologies, but for sake of my explanation and argument I will refer to "classes". On average, most would qualify as normal, decent, average "Joes". They do not over demand or expect such as cannot be logically expected. They do not raise a lot of "guff" when things do not work as expected, but rather work their way through difficult situations, doing what they "gotta do" to make it to the other side. Then there are those who do whatever is necessary, pushing their way to the front and past showing no respect for any but themselves. These begin the descent from common courtesy and into the abyss of anti-social behavior. Then there are the manipulators, the opportunists. These feign friendship and desire to barter favors, and for a while seemingly altruistic actions begin to draw the unsuspecting in, only to be caught in another web of deceit and possibly becoming a snare too difficult to escape. Then we have the preachers. These come in two flavors, the ones who are truly "brainwashed" and have to do everything in their power to convert you and then those who find religious verbiage and dogma a convenient harbor and escape from their own responsibility for the consequences of their own reckless and unthinking actions in their own lives. This includes virtually all loud mouth drunks and drug users preaching to any and all and nobody. Then there are those with legitimate mental and psychological deficiencies. All too often using their infirmity as a convenient excuse to ignore usual common courtesy. Beyond these those who find any excuse to justify rude, self-centered behaviors to the disrespect of any. And of course those who simply don't give a damn, no excuse is necessary. Unfortunately it is all of these who are the recipients of the services offered and all too often, the more offensive and obnoxious one may become, the more one is treated with "kid gloves", the more civil and courteous suffering impunity, the result of placating the unruly and hoping to keep them in line.
But there is a turn in attitude I am observing. Hither to I have observed and acted myself without asserting my rights or the rights of others as they are infringed upon. Others, of a more decent character, as well as myself, are speaking up and putting ourselves at risk as the less noble characters attempt to pull their "tricks", get in another's face, butt in line and such. Too be sure there is risk, a fight could ensue, but more often than not, the offending party will get the message, they are being watched, and not by security, but by us, the ones they have to sit with and eat with, and we aren't putting up with your crap anymore. Too be sure, one person cannot stand alone, but when two or three begin seeing the same thing and have the "balls" to speak up, maybe not at first, not immediately, but progressively, the offenders back down. They eventually get the message. And yes, there is the risk of things backfiring, or reprisals, wherever. Such is the nature of some characters.
But as I look at these classes of characters I can't help but wonder and ask, "What differences are there in these 'homeless' that is not the same in the overall gamut of society?" And I cannot see anything different overall. The only difference is that in the homeless community the guise of civilization is breaking down. In the overall "civilized" world the same character faults exist only hidden, disguised by the illusion of being civilized.
I once had lived with an idyllic concept of how humans were to relate to one another. I had egalitarian notions that all are equal, and one man's truth and value were as important as another's. And, to be sure, if democracy is our ultimate ideal then egalitarianism may be justified. But that is not the real world. The real world is full of multitudes of "me first and damn the rest". And this makes for no real civilization or dynamic human relations which lend support to human advancement. But I could not see this as long as the trappings of civilization were sufficiently in place. It is not a "housed" or "unhorsed" homeless problem. It is a human character problem. It is not a lack of religion problem; it is a need for a relevant religion problem, a religion that takes into account all the new and advancing concepts, theories and facts upon which the whole of our technological world is built upon.
I have no problem with "myth" as such. But myth needs to be relevant and understood as a "picture", a "framework", metaphor, and not as a literal testimony of reality. Our religious myth needs to teach us of our connection to ourselves, each other, our world and the universe.
Concepts of the past, based on the limited knowledge and understanding of the times have had their multi-millennial reign. We have moved into a new millennium, our "faith" in our "gods" has needs to keep pace and communicate in the language and knowledge of the present.
I believe should our "faiths" not evolve we face the disintegration of our world cultures. Possibly to be replaced by totalitarian states willing to establish themselves as the ultimate reality to which we all bow down.
My sister once told me something my father told her as she was embarking on a new life in the west. "There are the fuckers you don't know, and there are the fuckers you know." … the implication being trust no one even those you think you know. I wish I had such a conversation with my father but our relations were always strained through my teen years and virtually non-existent later in my teens and early twenties.
Experience, in what may be considered the most trusted of social settings has confirmed this cynical attitude. Religious settings ( churches and other institutions) have proved to be the most unreliable when it comes to trusting their integrity. Now I do not wish to condemn unequivocally all the out workings of these institutions, but merely point to the fact that they are managed and run by finite, imperfect human beings whose primary concern is ultimately their own well-being, and there is no such thing as an objective decision as such. Decisions will always reflect one’s personal well-being, or the well-being of those one is closest too.
This being the case, whether it is a religious or secular institution makes little difference. They are both managed and manned by imperfect human beings. The only advantage, or probably more to the fact, disadvantage the religious institution has on the secular is there is a presumed altruistic motive that supposedly surpasses the secular. But if the actions and attitudes of the religious adherents does not compliment the official doctrine and dogma, the religious suffers the reality and embarrassment as being caste as hypocrites. Unfortunately many, if not all religious groups rely on past reputation to carry them through potentially embarrassing situations. It all comes down to "image". If you can make the public believe anything they will be reluctant to admit that anything different is the reality. That is precisely the strength that current religious institutions enjoy, two thousand years of acceptance. And we are all, to some degree, educated and taught to think in terms of this religious framework.
But times are changing, progress continues and science advances ever so slowly, often in spite of some of our most noted scientists. And religion, of needs to survive, will adapt accordingly. The alternative is too dire to consider.
Amidst all this confusion of attitudes, classes and adaptation there are "wild cards". In the situation here in Austin the homeless have a support system in place. The politics surrounding the existence of this is too complicated to know at present what will be the future. Yet, for the present, such support exists and as has evolved there is individuals who lend themselves to the functioning of this system. These persons do not necessarily make up a class of their own, but rather manifest out of and in the midst of all classes. There are men who have made their home in relation to the support system and not out of religious necessity, but rather innate human concern, volunteer their time and energies to aid others, either as part of the system or independently. These are not perfect "saints" as may be thought of in religious terms, they are faulted as any, but find it in themselves to extend themselves beyond themselves. These have my respect, and though I know none personally their presence and effect to the functioning and benefit of others cannot go unobserved. It is in "their spirit" that I find hope for the future, nit necessarily of the system, but of the human species. These, regardless of the system can and will adapt and make things function for the rest.
Behold the Beast
Behold the Beast
We are living on the edges of civilization, contemplating the benefits and the sacrifices to be made to reap the same. To be sure, there are benefits, but not so obvious the sacrifices. The benefits often, though not always, appear tangible. The sacrifices, though often espoused as inalienable, are of a less material nature; concepts of freedom, spirit, the rights of "humankind". These too easily forgotten or misconstrued and redefined to accommodate materialistic ideas and ideals of what constitutes the betterment of the human condition; a higher standard of living, a shorter work week, a house, private property, a controlled environment separate and as possible divorced from the conditions of the outer, other world, an illusion of " Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness". These widdled away and systematically dissolved for the benefit of security. And we, like frogs in a pot of water fail to realize the increasing heat, and too ignorant to jump out, are subsequently boiled. But we are told, "It's alright, because it tastes like chicken." And we harp upon the needs of the past, and the promise of "a chicken in every pot", not realizing that every "so called" security requires a requisite chiseling away of that which we once held as inalienable.
We argue the "Constitution" and the Bible and more recently the Koran and the Vita's and other ancient texts searching for answers, some absolute that will somehow, some way give us the answers and tell us what it is to be human. Blind and ignorant that the same life force that gave us these scripts is in us, and is us. We seek outside confirmation as to what and who we are. We have lost connection, insight, knowledge that we are what we are as the "I Am" is the "I Am". It is us, and life is not a matter of rules and democratically compromised solutions, but our innate human conscience.
Too be sure, this does not negate the need to act civil, but recognizes that uncivilized behavior results in civilization which consequently infringes upon the civil conscience of all. And systems replace human initiative; we become corporatized, reliant upon the collective, stunted individuals. But secure in the niche assigned to us. All the while chanting the slogans and economic rhetoric we cannot possibly fully comprehend, unable to recognize the ultimate end of the same. But we are told, “we are free" and the idea of some long forgotten ideal has become the catalyst that motivates us. And we move, cogs in the machine, attached to the matrix, an artificial "Borg" manifestation of the collective consciousness. What may be, and I believe is, the divine connectivity of all creation, is usurped by a mechanical artifice, absent and ignorant of notion and relation to its primal energy. The Demiurge is manifest and we have created the beast, and we are the beast, the creator and the created.
We are living on the edges of civilization, contemplating the benefits and the sacrifices to be made to reap the same. To be sure, there are benefits, but not so obvious the sacrifices. The benefits often, though not always, appear tangible. The sacrifices, though often espoused as inalienable, are of a less material nature; concepts of freedom, spirit, the rights of "humankind". These too easily forgotten or misconstrued and redefined to accommodate materialistic ideas and ideals of what constitutes the betterment of the human condition; a higher standard of living, a shorter work week, a house, private property, a controlled environment separate and as possible divorced from the conditions of the outer, other world, an illusion of " Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness". These widdled away and systematically dissolved for the benefit of security. And we, like frogs in a pot of water fail to realize the increasing heat, and too ignorant to jump out, are subsequently boiled. But we are told, "It's alright, because it tastes like chicken." And we harp upon the needs of the past, and the promise of "a chicken in every pot", not realizing that every "so called" security requires a requisite chiseling away of that which we once held as inalienable.
We argue the "Constitution" and the Bible and more recently the Koran and the Vita's and other ancient texts searching for answers, some absolute that will somehow, some way give us the answers and tell us what it is to be human. Blind and ignorant that the same life force that gave us these scripts is in us, and is us. We seek outside confirmation as to what and who we are. We have lost connection, insight, knowledge that we are what we are as the "I Am" is the "I Am". It is us, and life is not a matter of rules and democratically compromised solutions, but our innate human conscience.
Too be sure, this does not negate the need to act civil, but recognizes that uncivilized behavior results in civilization which consequently infringes upon the civil conscience of all. And systems replace human initiative; we become corporatized, reliant upon the collective, stunted individuals. But secure in the niche assigned to us. All the while chanting the slogans and economic rhetoric we cannot possibly fully comprehend, unable to recognize the ultimate end of the same. But we are told, “we are free" and the idea of some long forgotten ideal has become the catalyst that motivates us. And we move, cogs in the machine, attached to the matrix, an artificial "Borg" manifestation of the collective consciousness. What may be, and I believe is, the divine connectivity of all creation, is usurped by a mechanical artifice, absent and ignorant of notion and relation to its primal energy. The Demiurge is manifest and we have created the beast, and we are the beast, the creator and the created.
Friday October 19 - Cleaning up
Friday October 19 - Cleaning up
We are sitting on a parking place bumper across the street from the ARCH, waiting to see what, if any, food trucks or ministry may show up. We usually sit away from the activity around the Arch as we find much we would rather not be associated with, whether that be illegal drug activity or crazy, weird people, and there are enough of them for sure. It is getting late, later than usual for food to become available, and I am beginning to consider our options.
A police cruiser pulls up across the street in front of the ARCH, an officer gets out and points at an Hispanic man. He gets his I.D. and begins to run a check on it. The police "paddy wagon" pulls up just down the street from us, close, about 30 yards away. Another officer gets out and walks across the street to assist the first officer.
The Hispanic man is handed back his I.D. and another black man seems to be the focus of the officers attention. They have him stand in front of the police cruiser and the second officer returns to the paddy wagon, reaches into the side door and then returns to the cruiser with some paper work and ties used as hand cuffs. The officers then tie the black man's hands behind him. It appears that they are having trouble but eventually cuff him and put him in the back of the cruiser.
The first officer returns to three individuals, including the first Hispanic man, and converses with them. The Hispanic man appears to be arguing, but the officer seems to pay little attention to him. The officer returns to his squad car and is writing something on the hood of the car. He returns to the three and hands one of them what appears to be a ticket. He hands it to a woman with a prosthetic leg who had been the subject of some harassment for sleeping behind the ARCH about a week earlier.
The officer from the paddy wagon returns to the paddy wagon and waits. The first officer, after doing some paper work on the hood of his car, gets in and begins to pull away, followed by the paddy wagon. From the direction they head they are not going directly to the jail or the police station.
The woman handed the ticket returns to her usual seated position. The Hispanic man and a short Hispanic woman are in heated argument. The three eventually disperse and blend with the rest of the gazers on.
The police have been involve in a concerted "crack down" focused particularly on the homeless for just over a month. At an ARCH town hall meeting, Wednesday October 17, we were told that in this period the police had made over 500 arrests involving the homeless. The ARCH services between 400 and 500 clients a day. Of this number, a great many are not actually homeless but rather "users", taking advantage of whatever "free" services they can; essentially exploiting the system, finding the easiest way to "get over".
Most of the "homeless" that I have met are legitimately "homeless" for whatever reason; they are not "illegitimate users" of the system, nor are they illegitimate drug offenders that hang out, outside the doors of the ARCH. Too be sure, there has been, and to a great degree continues to be a significant "drug culture" that has found residence around the ARCH, but it is slowly diminishing. The main problem as I observe it, is the police missing the mark. Yes, they made a great many arrests for "minor" infractions, but they are missing the target if eliminating the drug problem is their goal.
While the arrest yesterday was being made what went undetected was the strategic retreats made by the more abusive. What goes undetected or possibly ignored is the open use of "pot" as innocents wait in lines. What is overlooked is the fact that there is a mentality that places guilty abusers over against not only law enforcement but the innocent homeless caught between a rock and a hard place. The guilty abusers do not care or give a damn about any but themselves. They exercise their lives without regard for any kind of human regard, whether it be butting to the front of lines or tossing "roaches" at the feet of another, thereby placing the innocent in jeopardy and under suspicion.
Most know that I would like to see the repeal of laws against the use of marijuana, but unfortunately that does not appear to be happening very fast. And as a result, police have to enforce laws that make criminals of what are otherwise average citizens. "Pot" use is the most blatant violation of the drug laws around the ARCH, but if these violations are the cause of harassing actions by law enforcement, I would rather the place be cleaned up and the innocent homeless be given the unobstructed availability of the resources they can use and need, but "cleaning it up" implies more than just "pot" and drugs. It means dealing with any and all who are not suffering the state of homelessness. The users, abusers and waster's of their own lives needs to be dealt with and not a blanket indiscriminant condemnation of the unfortunates living on the streets or in shelters.
We are sitting on a parking place bumper across the street from the ARCH, waiting to see what, if any, food trucks or ministry may show up. We usually sit away from the activity around the Arch as we find much we would rather not be associated with, whether that be illegal drug activity or crazy, weird people, and there are enough of them for sure. It is getting late, later than usual for food to become available, and I am beginning to consider our options.
A police cruiser pulls up across the street in front of the ARCH, an officer gets out and points at an Hispanic man. He gets his I.D. and begins to run a check on it. The police "paddy wagon" pulls up just down the street from us, close, about 30 yards away. Another officer gets out and walks across the street to assist the first officer.
The Hispanic man is handed back his I.D. and another black man seems to be the focus of the officers attention. They have him stand in front of the police cruiser and the second officer returns to the paddy wagon, reaches into the side door and then returns to the cruiser with some paper work and ties used as hand cuffs. The officers then tie the black man's hands behind him. It appears that they are having trouble but eventually cuff him and put him in the back of the cruiser.
The first officer returns to three individuals, including the first Hispanic man, and converses with them. The Hispanic man appears to be arguing, but the officer seems to pay little attention to him. The officer returns to his squad car and is writing something on the hood of the car. He returns to the three and hands one of them what appears to be a ticket. He hands it to a woman with a prosthetic leg who had been the subject of some harassment for sleeping behind the ARCH about a week earlier.
The officer from the paddy wagon returns to the paddy wagon and waits. The first officer, after doing some paper work on the hood of his car, gets in and begins to pull away, followed by the paddy wagon. From the direction they head they are not going directly to the jail or the police station.
The woman handed the ticket returns to her usual seated position. The Hispanic man and a short Hispanic woman are in heated argument. The three eventually disperse and blend with the rest of the gazers on.
The police have been involve in a concerted "crack down" focused particularly on the homeless for just over a month. At an ARCH town hall meeting, Wednesday October 17, we were told that in this period the police had made over 500 arrests involving the homeless. The ARCH services between 400 and 500 clients a day. Of this number, a great many are not actually homeless but rather "users", taking advantage of whatever "free" services they can; essentially exploiting the system, finding the easiest way to "get over".
Most of the "homeless" that I have met are legitimately "homeless" for whatever reason; they are not "illegitimate users" of the system, nor are they illegitimate drug offenders that hang out, outside the doors of the ARCH. Too be sure, there has been, and to a great degree continues to be a significant "drug culture" that has found residence around the ARCH, but it is slowly diminishing. The main problem as I observe it, is the police missing the mark. Yes, they made a great many arrests for "minor" infractions, but they are missing the target if eliminating the drug problem is their goal.
While the arrest yesterday was being made what went undetected was the strategic retreats made by the more abusive. What goes undetected or possibly ignored is the open use of "pot" as innocents wait in lines. What is overlooked is the fact that there is a mentality that places guilty abusers over against not only law enforcement but the innocent homeless caught between a rock and a hard place. The guilty abusers do not care or give a damn about any but themselves. They exercise their lives without regard for any kind of human regard, whether it be butting to the front of lines or tossing "roaches" at the feet of another, thereby placing the innocent in jeopardy and under suspicion.
Most know that I would like to see the repeal of laws against the use of marijuana, but unfortunately that does not appear to be happening very fast. And as a result, police have to enforce laws that make criminals of what are otherwise average citizens. "Pot" use is the most blatant violation of the drug laws around the ARCH, but if these violations are the cause of harassing actions by law enforcement, I would rather the place be cleaned up and the innocent homeless be given the unobstructed availability of the resources they can use and need, but "cleaning it up" implies more than just "pot" and drugs. It means dealing with any and all who are not suffering the state of homelessness. The users, abusers and waster's of their own lives needs to be dealt with and not a blanket indiscriminant condemnation of the unfortunates living on the streets or in shelters.
just another incident of the "divine"
Just a short while ago, while standing in line to get lunch, a TV reporter approached Mary and me and asked if we knew what Proposition 15 was. I am only vaguely familiar with it, it has to do with affordable housing. But, she asked if we would do an interview with her on camera, which we agreed to. Such as "fate" is, I did not talk about Proposition 15, as much as what led us to Austin. The interview was about 10 minutes long. As soon as I know when it will be aired or posted online I will pass this info along. But what struck me is that this is just another incident of the "divine" working things together. Hey, don't let the idea of the "divine" scare you. It’s all perfectly natural.
http://www.kvue.com/news/local/Voters-to-decide-on-funding-Austins-affordable-housing-174410701.html
Saturday October 13 - A New Bar in Town
Saturday October 13 - A New Bar in Town
As an alternative to eating at the Salvation Army we occasionally sit across the street from the ARCH on concrete bumpers that mark the end of parking spaces, and wait to see who may show up with food. It generally is one of the local churches or a couple of food trucks operated by a local ministry, you know, the kind of sandwich trucks we used to refer to as the "roach coach". No such designation applies now a days.
Last Thursday we were waiting and a Jeep Cherokee pulls up across the street. A man puts down the window and yells at us and another man parked along the street "Y'all want any work?" I wasn't sure he was talking to us and we hesitated. He yelled again, Mary and I looked at each other and nodded to indicate checking it out. We walked up to him and I asked, "What do you got?" He said a new bar was opening and he needed help moving some tables and stools and a few other things. We said sure and hopped in the back seat. The other fellow followed us about 8 blocks to an area just on the other side of the entertainment district. We pulled in an alley behind some house and next to a make-shift stage.. It was the back yard of an older house, there were a lot of large spools sitting around and many of the smaller ones stacked along the side fence. You know, the kind of spools that telephone companies and power companies hold cable on.
He explained that the largest ones would be used as tables and the smaller ones as benches around the tables. We then proceeded shifting them around to have optimal views of the stage. While Carter and I (the other fellow) were moving spools, Mary was emptying ash trays and setting up candles on the tables. John, the fellow who hired us, would give me instructions and turn me loose to get the job done. Carter was, a 69 year old black man, used to physical work, but slow to receive instructions. We then spread some granite sand to fill in obvious holes and wet spots on the ground and Mary raked it out smooth. This was not done to perfection, but sufficient to get through the night.
We had priorities to accomplish before it was time to open, and that meant getting the stage ready. John told us what needed to be done and it was obvious he wasn't sure how to accomplish it. I took over directing operations at this point. I told John that in years past I had put on concerts in the parks back in Maryland and he was confident enough to give me a free reign as I explained what I was going to do.
First, there was a loosely built gazebo frame work over the stage with some lattice on top of it. We needed to pull a tarp over it as a roof to protect the musical equipment in the event of wet weather. It would also make the stage appear complete under the proper lighting. I got a long piece of rope and tied it to the corners of one side and had Carter and John pull it over the lattice and frame work while I used a step ladder to move around and guide it and keep it from becoming snagged. I then tied it down at strategic points.
Next was the lighting. John had a boat load of Christmas lights to be strung around the top of the stage. I first tried using a staple gun but very quickly the staples were gone and none to be had. Using a little ingenuity I utilized nails that were half hammered into the frame and wrapped the light cord around them and was able to encircle the top of the stage twice and along the corners. This done, the musicians started setting up their equipment.
Next was to string some lights from the house to the stage to make for a well lit area. I pulled these off the side of the house and hung them from the back porch to the corner of the stage.
Now imagine if you will, the back porch is now the bar. Along the back, next to the stage is an ice cream vender. From the other side of the stage along the back side fence, are a Vietnamese sandwich vender, a Mexican food vender and a Greek food vender. At the front of the house are set up stools and chairs and on the one side of the front yard a mixed drink vender. Men and Women's port-a-potties are on the other side of the house.
There was one more task to be completed. Wendy, the owner of this enterprise had started putting up a fence across the front to mark the property boundary. She needed to be at other tasks so Mary and I finished putting up the last half of the front fence. With this our work was done for the night.
Carter worked till 7 and Mary and I worked till 8, putting in 4 hours each. We were paid well, in cash, and Mary and I got a free meal and beer. We returned the next day to spread more granite for an hour and a half.
Through all this, because permits were not all in order, the band could not play except for doing their sound check. Wendy and John went to get the permits taken care of on Friday, but I think they may have been expecting too much too fast, but, as things are put in order, it appears we may have some regular cash in the future.
As an alternative to eating at the Salvation Army we occasionally sit across the street from the ARCH on concrete bumpers that mark the end of parking spaces, and wait to see who may show up with food. It generally is one of the local churches or a couple of food trucks operated by a local ministry, you know, the kind of sandwich trucks we used to refer to as the "roach coach". No such designation applies now a days.
Last Thursday we were waiting and a Jeep Cherokee pulls up across the street. A man puts down the window and yells at us and another man parked along the street "Y'all want any work?" I wasn't sure he was talking to us and we hesitated. He yelled again, Mary and I looked at each other and nodded to indicate checking it out. We walked up to him and I asked, "What do you got?" He said a new bar was opening and he needed help moving some tables and stools and a few other things. We said sure and hopped in the back seat. The other fellow followed us about 8 blocks to an area just on the other side of the entertainment district. We pulled in an alley behind some house and next to a make-shift stage.. It was the back yard of an older house, there were a lot of large spools sitting around and many of the smaller ones stacked along the side fence. You know, the kind of spools that telephone companies and power companies hold cable on.
He explained that the largest ones would be used as tables and the smaller ones as benches around the tables. We then proceeded shifting them around to have optimal views of the stage. While Carter and I (the other fellow) were moving spools, Mary was emptying ash trays and setting up candles on the tables. John, the fellow who hired us, would give me instructions and turn me loose to get the job done. Carter was, a 69 year old black man, used to physical work, but slow to receive instructions. We then spread some granite sand to fill in obvious holes and wet spots on the ground and Mary raked it out smooth. This was not done to perfection, but sufficient to get through the night.
We had priorities to accomplish before it was time to open, and that meant getting the stage ready. John told us what needed to be done and it was obvious he wasn't sure how to accomplish it. I took over directing operations at this point. I told John that in years past I had put on concerts in the parks back in Maryland and he was confident enough to give me a free reign as I explained what I was going to do.
First, there was a loosely built gazebo frame work over the stage with some lattice on top of it. We needed to pull a tarp over it as a roof to protect the musical equipment in the event of wet weather. It would also make the stage appear complete under the proper lighting. I got a long piece of rope and tied it to the corners of one side and had Carter and John pull it over the lattice and frame work while I used a step ladder to move around and guide it and keep it from becoming snagged. I then tied it down at strategic points.
Next was the lighting. John had a boat load of Christmas lights to be strung around the top of the stage. I first tried using a staple gun but very quickly the staples were gone and none to be had. Using a little ingenuity I utilized nails that were half hammered into the frame and wrapped the light cord around them and was able to encircle the top of the stage twice and along the corners. This done, the musicians started setting up their equipment.
Next was to string some lights from the house to the stage to make for a well lit area. I pulled these off the side of the house and hung them from the back porch to the corner of the stage.
Now imagine if you will, the back porch is now the bar. Along the back, next to the stage is an ice cream vender. From the other side of the stage along the back side fence, are a Vietnamese sandwich vender, a Mexican food vender and a Greek food vender. At the front of the house are set up stools and chairs and on the one side of the front yard a mixed drink vender. Men and Women's port-a-potties are on the other side of the house.
There was one more task to be completed. Wendy, the owner of this enterprise had started putting up a fence across the front to mark the property boundary. She needed to be at other tasks so Mary and I finished putting up the last half of the front fence. With this our work was done for the night.
Carter worked till 7 and Mary and I worked till 8, putting in 4 hours each. We were paid well, in cash, and Mary and I got a free meal and beer. We returned the next day to spread more granite for an hour and a half.
Through all this, because permits were not all in order, the band could not play except for doing their sound check. Wendy and John went to get the permits taken care of on Friday, but I think they may have been expecting too much too fast, but, as things are put in order, it appears we may have some regular cash in the future.
Tuesday October 9 - The Further Adventures of Bonnie and Clyde
Tuesday October 9 - The Further Adventures of Bonnie and Clyde
So it is Saturday October 6, and we can't go back to our regular lair, somebody's throwing a party there. This town goes Longhorn crazy and Saturday was the day to do it with a vengeance. See, it's opening home game and a month ago they had a pre-season scrimmage and that was a party and a half. But today is the official thing and the radio stations are throwing their pre-game parties wherever they can. And wouldn't you know it, our abode got selected. So, we went out for the night. Never mind that this is the coldest night of the fall season so far, down to 41 degrees F. Now I know that to many of my friends and relatives up north 41 degrees ain't that cold. But try lying on the ground or hard pavement and the wind blowing at about 40 mph, you'll freeze your ass off, guaranteed.
So, rather than make our way back to the home, we made ourselves fed and wandered about until we found what seemed to be a relatively uninhabited park. This was just outside the downtown area, but to the southeast. There was a tree, nice and large, with branches that hung down to the ground at their ends, about 240 degrees of the circumference of it, and underneath was clean and dry. We got there about 5:30 P.M. and shifting a couple of times wound up with me seated, leaning against the tree, facing away from the road and Mary sitting between my legs, leaning back on my chest, and eventually we fell asleep.
About 11 P.M. I woke up, I look to my left and …"Oh shit", there about 50 yards away was a cop, mounted on horseback just standing there. The horse was grazing. I woke up Mary, "Shhh … be very quiet and don't move … There's a cop over there on horseback" … Then, the cavalry arrived. Three more mounted police riding all over the place. They began circling the park and us. It appeared as if they were looking for someone. There had been several homeless men who had wandered through earlier.
After circling us, about a dozen times and investigating various structures around the park, a couple of them congregated about the first cop and grazed their horses. A female mounted officer then approached us on horseback and from about 20 yards away said, "Sir, I'm sorry, but the park is closed, you'll have to go", I think she was smiling about the situation. "Yes Ma'am", I said and we gathered our things and walked towards down town.
Leaving Joan Wayne and her three John's, we headed toward downtown and 6th St.. Now remember, This is Texas, and things have a history of being a little wild, and Texans love to party and they are Longhorn football crazy, and this evening was the opening home game. They played West Virginia and there was a sizable West Virginia contingent, a hell of a lot of blue jerseys with the West Virginia WV mixed among the UT longhorn brown, white and black. But they had 6th St. turned into one massive party, with all the crossing streets blocked off for about 6 or 8 blocks. Mary and I tried to walk along the sidewalk, but no good, may as well get out in the middle of the street if you wanted to get anywhere.
Now, also remember, this is the coldest night of the fall season so far. Mary and I are dressed in our Yankee comfort ( such as it is) and still shivering. These kids (and most were, except for an occasional parent alumni) all hyped on booze, football and whatever, in Tee shirts and halter-tops. Appearance is much more important than common sense.
WE made our way from one end of 6th to the other and eventually turned up Congress and made it to a Subway sandwich shop, and sat and enjoyed a meal as civilized human beings.
Now we could not go back to our usual retreat, so we headed past the capital and down 12th St. As cold and windy as it was I figured hovering close to a building and absorbing its heat would be best bet for the time and I knew of such a spot, well hidden.
WE made it to our place for the night, a notched out corner of a parking garage that I had utilized several times prior. We huddled together as close a possible, but it was cold, I mean "witches tit" cold, and windy, 40 + mph windy, all through the night. And yes, it felt like our asses froze. And I might guess we could have experienced the effects of hypothermia. But we made it through and early in the morning moved on to a location in under a bridge along a creek side walk, after a security vehicle at the parking garage made its rounds. Fortunately, it was on the inside and we were hidden on the out, just frozen.
Under the bridge felt warmer, and lower so the wind was not as bad. When we arrived two other men had been standing around and decided to move on. We slept here for an hour or so and was in no hurry to move on as it was Sunday morning and traffic would be slight and the area mostly disserted. Eventually we made our way back to the ARCH, a bit worn, but alive and well.
So it is Saturday October 6, and we can't go back to our regular lair, somebody's throwing a party there. This town goes Longhorn crazy and Saturday was the day to do it with a vengeance. See, it's opening home game and a month ago they had a pre-season scrimmage and that was a party and a half. But today is the official thing and the radio stations are throwing their pre-game parties wherever they can. And wouldn't you know it, our abode got selected. So, we went out for the night. Never mind that this is the coldest night of the fall season so far, down to 41 degrees F. Now I know that to many of my friends and relatives up north 41 degrees ain't that cold. But try lying on the ground or hard pavement and the wind blowing at about 40 mph, you'll freeze your ass off, guaranteed.
So, rather than make our way back to the home, we made ourselves fed and wandered about until we found what seemed to be a relatively uninhabited park. This was just outside the downtown area, but to the southeast. There was a tree, nice and large, with branches that hung down to the ground at their ends, about 240 degrees of the circumference of it, and underneath was clean and dry. We got there about 5:30 P.M. and shifting a couple of times wound up with me seated, leaning against the tree, facing away from the road and Mary sitting between my legs, leaning back on my chest, and eventually we fell asleep.
About 11 P.M. I woke up, I look to my left and …"Oh shit", there about 50 yards away was a cop, mounted on horseback just standing there. The horse was grazing. I woke up Mary, "Shhh … be very quiet and don't move … There's a cop over there on horseback" … Then, the cavalry arrived. Three more mounted police riding all over the place. They began circling the park and us. It appeared as if they were looking for someone. There had been several homeless men who had wandered through earlier.
After circling us, about a dozen times and investigating various structures around the park, a couple of them congregated about the first cop and grazed their horses. A female mounted officer then approached us on horseback and from about 20 yards away said, "Sir, I'm sorry, but the park is closed, you'll have to go", I think she was smiling about the situation. "Yes Ma'am", I said and we gathered our things and walked towards down town.
Leaving Joan Wayne and her three John's, we headed toward downtown and 6th St.. Now remember, This is Texas, and things have a history of being a little wild, and Texans love to party and they are Longhorn football crazy, and this evening was the opening home game. They played West Virginia and there was a sizable West Virginia contingent, a hell of a lot of blue jerseys with the West Virginia WV mixed among the UT longhorn brown, white and black. But they had 6th St. turned into one massive party, with all the crossing streets blocked off for about 6 or 8 blocks. Mary and I tried to walk along the sidewalk, but no good, may as well get out in the middle of the street if you wanted to get anywhere.
Now, also remember, this is the coldest night of the fall season so far. Mary and I are dressed in our Yankee comfort ( such as it is) and still shivering. These kids (and most were, except for an occasional parent alumni) all hyped on booze, football and whatever, in Tee shirts and halter-tops. Appearance is much more important than common sense.
WE made our way from one end of 6th to the other and eventually turned up Congress and made it to a Subway sandwich shop, and sat and enjoyed a meal as civilized human beings.
Now we could not go back to our usual retreat, so we headed past the capital and down 12th St. As cold and windy as it was I figured hovering close to a building and absorbing its heat would be best bet for the time and I knew of such a spot, well hidden.
WE made it to our place for the night, a notched out corner of a parking garage that I had utilized several times prior. We huddled together as close a possible, but it was cold, I mean "witches tit" cold, and windy, 40 + mph windy, all through the night. And yes, it felt like our asses froze. And I might guess we could have experienced the effects of hypothermia. But we made it through and early in the morning moved on to a location in under a bridge along a creek side walk, after a security vehicle at the parking garage made its rounds. Fortunately, it was on the inside and we were hidden on the out, just frozen.
Under the bridge felt warmer, and lower so the wind was not as bad. When we arrived two other men had been standing around and decided to move on. We slept here for an hour or so and was in no hurry to move on as it was Sunday morning and traffic would be slight and the area mostly disserted. Eventually we made our way back to the ARCH, a bit worn, but alive and well.
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