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Causeseffects.com Homeless Questions, Jokes and Philosophy August 2006 |
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A night in the woods with Herr Kugler By Steve Kugler
It was a quiet night under a full moon, and I went home early. I awoke about midnight, because someone was playing Little Piggy with my tootsies, which were sticking out the bottom of my blankets.
My first thought was a flashback to a prospector I met in the Pacific Northwest and Wenatchee. Every two or three months, he got the desire to talk to people, would sit in the park and polish his gun holster to start a conversation.
He told me that once he was twenty-five miles in the woods and sleeping when he felt a hand grab his foot, his shin and his knee. When the hand latched onto his thigh, he pulled out his gun and shot it into the air.
In the muzzle flash, he saw Big Foot.
Several months ago, Mountain Living did an article on the Big Foot sightings around Flagstaff.
“What am I going to do,” thought I, “if Big Foot is down there playing with my toes?”
Slowly I rolled my head around to look at my feet and nothing.
“Nothing!!”
With care, I lifted until I could see my toes and saw my neighbor, Sam Skunk, who sometimes stops by an pulls my chain.
I sat up and screamed, “Beat it!”
As Sam was making his get-a-way, I thought I heard him chuckling. 22 Saturday July 06 We had a gabfest, and it was good By Steve Kugler
Social functions for us who live out are few. Rarely, do I go to The Kitchen or, as it is known my mainstream society, The Flagstaff Family Food Center. The reasons are many.
I do not need the food. I have an income that
permits me to buy food. My retirement paycheck is
not enough to cover the food and rent. There is so much hate the homeless and bum bashing going on that I do not want to be homeless labeled.
I am kind of proud for my self sufficiency. I would feel a lot better by eating out of a dumpster than going to The Kitchen.
The people that go there and to other free feedings are not the kind that I want to associate with. Most of them that attend these places and functional events, are addicts, alcohol or drugs, and by not spending for food, they have more for their addictions.
It is also difficult to just take a moment of pleasure. It one tries to eat breakfast and read the morning paper someplace, the cops are there to ask for identification and to run a criminal records check.
It is kind of harassment or a discrimination thing to tell you that you do not belong. Even if they know you they go through the whole process.
Romero and I just sat down outside the campus library when Senator Morris Udall’s son, Scott, comes trotting by. He wants me to post his book on the Causes website.
Romero mentions that he scored a bunch of bananas and has them stashed in a bush by the math building.
While he retrieves his stash, I hit the latrine. The bananas were beginning to turn black, but all had a few while Scott told us about the swimming pool and his daily exercising.
Scott did not hang around long. His daddy provides for all his survival needs and our stories did not interest him.
Romero then told me about a squirrel he has at home and the battle of the bread.
It seems that Romero left a loaf of bread about his home, and a squirrel took half of it.
“He was considerate,” stated Romero, “and left me half.”
Apparently Romero had tried various methods of making his bread squirrel proof. He tried hiding it, hanging it on a string and putting it under a five gallon bucket.
“He pushed the bucket over,” said Romero.
Romero fortified the bucket by placing rocks around and on top of it.
After he realized his bread was squirrel proofed, Romero sat back and pondered all his efforts over a loaf of bread. He pondered it more when he had another loaf setting out and the squirrel did not bother it.
“Now, he comes up to a foot from my face, just sits and stares.
I in turn told Romero about when I lived south of The Sky Dome.
“The snow was deep in the hollow. I would go about twenty feet, lay down, pant and puff and see that the moon had risen higher in the key. I began to wonder if I was going to get home before moonset.
I was using skis that I purchased at a thrift store. In the morning, there were cat footprints in my ski tracks.
For the rest of the winter I could see footprints in my tracks. They would veer off when my old bus that I lived in was visible.
Often house cats will bring home a mouse or bird and lay it at the feet or in the path of people they like.
That cat and I must have become buddies over the winter. Towards spring, I found a deer leg lying in my path.
We said our salutations and departed. Reporter's note: Pseudonyms are used due to the intense intense discriminations and bum bashing events. 20 Thursday July 06 "I will pay $200 a month," said Juno. By Steve Kugler
Juno, an un-named, homeless Northern Arizona University student, Romero, who has two NAU bachelor's and a master's degrees, and I had a little gab-fest in front of the campus library. We talked about Flagstaff having a people shelter that helps a person by offering mail and phone service for job seeking, job training and other related empowerment tools.
Juno liked my idea of converting The Hive into a shelter at night and a community center during the day.
"I will pay $200 a month," said Juno.
Romero, who enjoys being homeless and will leave Flag Halloween, said he would do volunteer work at The Hive to get the shelter started.
16 Monday July 06 Does Bashes discriminate? By Steve Kugler
It was a nice morning until I got to Bashes south of the hospital. For some reason I had a fix on having the burritos, sitting on a bench outside and reading the morning paper. Obtaining a burrito was more difficult that I thought it would be. After standing at the counter for a short period, I addressed the young lady behind the counter working at making sandwiches.
"Excuse me. Do you have a moment?"
When the deli clerk did not respond, I started yelling, "Ahoy" to back wall.
One of the managers came from in the store and asked if I needed. something.
"Did I do something to upset the young lady?"
"She just said that she was making sandwiches."
"For whom?" thought I, "There is no one about but the three of us.
Did Bashes discriminate against me because I am one of them--a nasty homeless person. 15 July 06 Sunday What kind of low life would steal from a homeless person? By Steve Kugler
Last evening, I put on the earphones, listened to classic music and watched a thunderstorm in the distance. It was a nice effect. Prairie Home Companion polished off the rest of the evening.
This morning, I hung around home and read for a couple of hours. I still got to campus an hour before the library opened. I went around the corner looking for my vest, which I found with my reading glasses. The bunch of pennies in the vest pocket were gone. 14 July 06 Saturday "Steve," said Juno, "your clothes are on the ground and it's raining. By Steve Kugler
A couple of decades yesteryear, two Northern Arizona University students were spending the winter in the Catholic Cemetery next to the campus. Juno, he would be upset if I used his name, slept on a pile of pine needles. I slept behind a walled family plot and along the fence. Juno and I would cover ourselves with plastic when the weather turned bad.
Actually, I never talked to Juno those decades ago and never knew his name. I knew he was a graduate student when I saw him on campus and asked him if he was a student. It was within the past year, I saw him again, learned his name and made small talk on the few occasions we met and chowed down at Food Not Bombs held at the old Shiloh Church that is currently a community center. From these short conservations, I learned that Juno was currently housed and obtained two NAU bachelor degrees.
Today, Juno came into NAU's library to tell me that my clothes were on the ground. As he turned to leave, he gave me a red plastic poncho. "I don't need it.
Juno's info was factual. Since the library did not open until 10:30 am, I did my laundry on the way into town, caught the west bound bus to campus and left the pillor case of laundry tied to my macadam steed, GT The Red Pony's handle bars.
Someone sliced the pillow case open an dumped its contents on a big pile on the ground.
Was it a hate the homeless crime or an act of theft? Based on experience my opinion is that it was a hate the homeless crime. But it could have been a teft. People come to NAU's summer conference sessions and events with the intention of stealing what they can. Some even come with bolt cutters. I lost a yellow, vest with some loose change and a pair of dollar store reading glasses. It was a small price to pay for a bright red plastic poncho.
I tied off the neck of a tee shirt, stuffed it and tied off the bottom. It will do until I get home to the woods.
There was a two-legged, critter screaming in the woods yesterday.
"Are you alive?" Sometimes the tourists really get to my quiet personality. If they see me pulling of a road and into the woods, they start parking their cars along the shoulder and hike back in to look at me like some zoo animal. If I fall asleep in public tourists, especially the senior ones, like to get in my face, almost nose to nose, and say something like, "Good morning." By the time I procured my shoes and shirt, Joe, and his two four-legged animals, were in his land locomotion and driving away.
Flagstaff is fortunate that it does not have Bum Hunter haunting its woods. It just has Big Foot.
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