In Search Of…

In the 1970’s there was a television series hosted by Leonard Nimoy called "In Search Of…"

Each week the series would go "…in search of…" lost civilizations, the loch ness monster, strange phenomena, or any number of assorted "unexplained mysteries."

Homelessness is chock full of "… in search of…" quests. The search for shelter, clothing, employment, a place to be when you have no place to be. More importantly, though, is the quest for food.  

A Place To…

A couple of days ago I received an e-mail noting that I’ve used the phrases "my significant other" and "my other half" in some of my posts. What the sender wanted to know is why I haven’t used my significant other’s name.

That’s a fair question.

The answer is simple. She asked me not to. Out of respect for her and our relationship I’ve chosen to honor that request – a request that I can most certainly understand.  

Reality Check

On the front page of this week’s New Times (April 19 – April 25, 2007) it loudly proclaimed: "You Can’t Do That In SLO!" The article itself was on page 8.

One of very first items on the list of things a person CAN’T do in SLO, dealt with SLO Municipal Ordinance 9.40.010 – the ordinance that prohibits anyone from sitting on any one public bench in excess of one hour; or any combination of public benches for more than 3 hours in any given 24 hour period.

According to the article the law was enacted because the city’s Transient Task Force had "decided to end homelessness in SLO…"  

Just Dreams?

This past week I met with Chris Harai – an architect major at Cal Poly University, here in San Luis Obispo.

Suckerfish producer, Mary Garcia-Lemus – who also happens to be a Professor at the University – had given me his e-mail address because, as part of his senior year academic project, Chris had decide to design a homeless shelter.

Mary, knowing that when it comes to the plight of the homeless, I am always at the ready to put my two cents in, thought that it would be good if Chris and I met.  

Exiles

Most mornings when I get on the bus, there is a woman named Kimberly who is already seated in one of the front seats. She boards at the stop in front of French Hospital. And each morning, when she sees us, she greets us with the kind of friendliness that comes from familiarity.

On those occasions when I board the bus without my significant other, Kimberly asks where "my other half is." If I shrug my shoulders and say I don’t know, Kimberly responds with an "Uh-Oh." And then we both end up laughing.