Tuesday, February 28
We're in Trouble Now!
Every time I see my friends on the street, it’s like we haven’t seen each other in weeks or months. Sometimes, it’s only too true.
I’ve left a friend on a cheerful day; only to find him days later just as gloomy and broke down as I’d ever seen him before. And I’ve had to leave a friend sick, sorry and sad on a Sunday (unable to help); only to see him weeks later, and it’s as if he’d just won the lottery!
Too many times when I see a homeless friend and ask “How yah doin’?” the resolute reply is “WITHOUT!” Often, the reply is “Got a beer?” (I don’t even drink.) Sometimes, I don’t get wordy replies from my friends; only outstretched arms eagerly grasping for hugs – I love times like those!
When I found our friends on the eastside this past Sunday morning, I noticed that the group was particularly on edge. Even while some were drunk or high already – usually meaning a ‘spirited’ Sunday of celebrating ahead – there was an air of apprehension among the group. The family had a problem; I just didn’t know what the problem was – yet.
As I set out boxes of chips, I offered pop and sandwiches and asked, “What’s up, guys?”
“Oh, we got money,” one says.
“Yeah,” adds another, “And we started with a-half-a-G, but that’s gone.”
With a brief laugh, Robin blurted out, "BUT WE’RE IN TROUBLE NOW!”
Painful moans and groans of agreement rose from among the group. He continued, “We’re in trouble now … cuz’ our bootlegger started drinkin’!”
“OH, OH!” I thought, “That can’t be good news; especially on a Sunday in Minneapolis!”
If you’ve never had an addiction, never a nasty habit, never a hurtful manner about you (if you’ve never sinned before), you probably don't understand; but, if you can imagine …
It’s Sunday. You’re alone in a crowd, stoned and chasing the high. You have money, but no liquor stores open; no way to keep your broken-self fixed. Like every other Sunday, you figure to call the bootlegger who delivers: vodka (five bucks a half-pint); beers (a buck a can/case price); and weed (nickels or dimes). But it ain’t gonna happen today!
If it's our bootlegger started drinking, then our bootlegger isn’t driving. And if our bootlegger started drinking again, that means there won’t be any bootlegging going on in the near future; or until another bootlegger rises up to drive in her place.
Already that Sunday morning, the booze had run out. Petty arguments had sprung up among the group of friends, afraid to face another day of uncertainty. Young Ricky was off and pouting, ‘sit-signing’ the corner, so despondent he wouldn’t even get up to take money from passerby drivers. Asking Ricky “What’s up?” he snickers, “Cost of doin’ business!”
I don’t understand everything there is to know about addiction and poverty and homelessness. No man can. No man ever will. But I do understand what it means to be ‘without’ on a day already full of foggy uncertainties. I know what it’s like to not have a friend.
But today, I’m with family and friends. And I know what it means when a brother-in-arms exclaims, “We’re in trouble now!”
It means it’s time to circle the troops; time to take inventory; time to be strong when every individual is weak; time to take another’s hand and lift, because nobody is leaving this earth alone!
Sometimes, I wish I had more to give.
Kelly ¶ 9:00 PM
Every time I see my friends on the street, it’s like we haven’t seen each other in weeks or months. Sometimes, it’s only too true.
I’ve left a friend on a cheerful day; only to find him days later just as gloomy and broke down as I’d ever seen him before. And I’ve had to leave a friend sick, sorry and sad on a Sunday (unable to help); only to see him weeks later, and it’s as if he’d just won the lottery!
Too many times when I see a homeless friend and ask “How yah doin’?” the resolute reply is “WITHOUT!” Often, the reply is “Got a beer?” (I don’t even drink.) Sometimes, I don’t get wordy replies from my friends; only outstretched arms eagerly grasping for hugs – I love times like those!
When I found our friends on the eastside this past Sunday morning, I noticed that the group was particularly on edge. Even while some were drunk or high already – usually meaning a ‘spirited’ Sunday of celebrating ahead – there was an air of apprehension among the group. The family had a problem; I just didn’t know what the problem was – yet.
As I set out boxes of chips, I offered pop and sandwiches and asked, “What’s up, guys?”
“Oh, we got money,” one says.
“Yeah,” adds another, “And we started with a-half-a-G, but that’s gone.”
With a brief laugh, Robin blurted out, "BUT WE’RE IN TROUBLE NOW!”
Painful moans and groans of agreement rose from among the group. He continued, “We’re in trouble now … cuz’ our bootlegger started drinkin’!”
“OH, OH!” I thought, “That can’t be good news; especially on a Sunday in Minneapolis!”
If you’ve never had an addiction, never a nasty habit, never a hurtful manner about you (if you’ve never sinned before), you probably don't understand; but, if you can imagine …
It’s Sunday. You’re alone in a crowd, stoned and chasing the high. You have money, but no liquor stores open; no way to keep your broken-self fixed. Like every other Sunday, you figure to call the bootlegger who delivers: vodka (five bucks a half-pint); beers (a buck a can/case price); and weed (nickels or dimes). But it ain’t gonna happen today!
If it's our bootlegger started drinking, then our bootlegger isn’t driving. And if our bootlegger started drinking again, that means there won’t be any bootlegging going on in the near future; or until another bootlegger rises up to drive in her place.
Already that Sunday morning, the booze had run out. Petty arguments had sprung up among the group of friends, afraid to face another day of uncertainty. Young Ricky was off and pouting, ‘sit-signing’ the corner, so despondent he wouldn’t even get up to take money from passerby drivers. Asking Ricky “What’s up?” he snickers, “Cost of doin’ business!”
I don’t understand everything there is to know about addiction and poverty and homelessness. No man can. No man ever will. But I do understand what it means to be ‘without’ on a day already full of foggy uncertainties. I know what it’s like to not have a friend.
But today, I’m with family and friends. And I know what it means when a brother-in-arms exclaims, “We’re in trouble now!”
It means it’s time to circle the troops; time to take inventory; time to be strong when every individual is weak; time to take another’s hand and lift, because nobody is leaving this earth alone!
Sometimes, I wish I had more to give.
Kelly ¶ 9:00 PM
