Rural street smart

When I first arrived in Flagstaff , the manager of one of the slum hotels that I was homeless in told me that people come to Flagstaff on vacation but they leave on probation! (That manager also was a criminal and a cruel human)

Other things that I've learned since I've been here are that o. G. Means Original Gangster

My neighbor at the Relax Inn her daughter is a coyote my neighbor told me that her daughter is a really mean person. One day she told me see that van out there there are 20 Mexicans in the back of that van. I asked her what a coyote is and she told me that it's a person who illegally transports aliens to America from places like Mexico

I learned that P. O.is a probation officer.

And Pedro described his "tats" telling me he belongs to the Mexican Mafia!

One of the first long-term homeless mentally ill people that I met here will call him Nick.

I told him the things I was willing to do to help him make his life better, break the cycle of homelessness and clean up from addiction.

I'll tell you that there are certain things that I offered to do but ONLY if the homeless people meet me halfway and agree to doing XY and Z on their own.

It was clear that Nick had no intention of doing his part therefore I refused to do anything else to try to help him..

He had a really sweet spirit with a bachelor's degree and even spent some time as a Mormon. I came to care about him. My heart was broken when I opened the newspaper shortly after the 2013 Prescott fire that killed about 30 fireman; I read that  Nick set seven fires around Flagstaff! I had no idea he was an arsonist!

In the six and a half years I've been here I can only think of one single man that I've met that didn't have a long criminal history!

The education I never asked for!

"Street Smarts for Women"

I was speaking with a woman today who grew up in Carroll County, briefly lived in Baltimore City and moved back to Carroll County. She said something that made me smile knowingly. She said one big lesson I learned about living in Baltimore is "Never Smile!"

I learned the same lesson years ago I told her, especially on a public bus. I asked her "How did you know that this is an unwritten rule in Baltimore?" She said, "If I smiled I got all sorts of unwanted attention from men" "One day, I smiled at a man in a grocery store, so he followed me out and kept following me. I had to avoid going home so I could lose him."

This inability to smile was one of the main reasons she decided to move back to Carroll County.

I told her that I lived 12 years in the city and I've developed such a tough outer core that I'm totally unprepared for all of the people who smile at me since I've lived here in Carroll County. I can't even prepare a smile in return fast enough for them to notice!

"Street Survival" 4/15/96

Remember when I used to italicize and put things in different colors? I don't know where those options have dissapeared to. ;(

Anyhow here is my Author's Note written today. I've been journaling since 1981. I never journal with an audience in mind. I write what is happening in my life and from the heart.  Original journal entries may not include every detail that happened that day but they will give you a very good idea of life in urban poverty. I hope to illustrate in this entry how much time, how much physical and psychological energy and how dangerous it is to have so few choices in life. It's hard work to survive and very time consuming. Is there any time left over to get ahead and better your life? You decide.

4/11/96 Written from "Bawlmer Cafe" near Johns Hopkins Hospital

I figured I better be conscientious and attend the mandatory workshop required of everyone on food stamps. I went out to the bus stop (I live in Hampden) at 7:40 a.m. The #27 bus arrived at 8:10 a.m. The driver isn't sure but she thinks I should transfer to the #5 to get to my destination. Then she goes on, you should probably transfer to the #62. "How often do those buses run?" "I have no idea" she replied.

I decide instead of waiting for the #62, that I better walk the last 12 blocks to the Career Center. (could a disabled person do all that is required to make this round trip?) I'm scared because my acquaintance Charles told me to stay out of East and West Baltimore.

I arrive at the center 45 minutes late. They don't want to let me in. I talk them into it. I'm one of 3 whites in the workshop. Lucy* the teacher walks us through: "How to fill out a job application!" Tragic! The women sitting near me are looking at my application because they don't know how to fill one out.

  One man turns to me and asks:" how do you spell "JANITOR?!"

Lucy speaks rapidly in Ebonics. Workshop attendees are fighting about urban issues such as child rearing practices. I don't agree with any of the harsh philosophies. When this "job application" segment is done, we hadn't even had an opportunity to fill out the entire application.

Next I was led to a computer room to work with a system called Alex. I never got to finish what I was doing with that either then I was led somewhere else. We were just shuffled from place to place and for what?

I leave the Career Center to head for the #22 bus. Theoretically it runs every 20 minutes. I'm freezing cold in unfamiliar territory. I decide to just go ahead and walk the 15 blocks that are required to get to the subway station at Johns Hopkins Hospital. I am in the "Hood of hoods."

I'm weaving back and forth from one side of the street to the other for the entire 15 blocks in the hopes of avoiding getting mugged or killed. At one point 3 men are walking behind me. I walk fast hoping to pass them, when one called out to me:

  "Hey sugar! How you doin?"

I don't know whether I should ignore him or answer him. One began chanting: "SWEET PUSSY, BEAT PUSSY, DO ANYTHING YOU WANT TO PUSSY!"

I am TERRIFIED!  I will NOT go back to this neighborhood again. I'll just have to take any kind of work at all so I won't need the food stamps. I pray that something comes through quickly.........................