This topic brings out a TON of passion for me…so I apologize in advance for it’s length….but I just HAVE to get it out….

That man that seems to LIVE at the intersection up the street from me with a cardboard sign glued to his hands, glared at me again today. Now, the last thing I am is wealthy, but I have it better than him…..at  least today I do. I’m pretty sure he’s been camping this spot for well over 8 years now. Why haven’t things gotten better for him by now? Does he PREFER this life? Is he some kind of a LOSER who treated his family poorly one too many times until they deserted him? A drug addict? Maybe he actually IS that broken person he portrays….someone who suffers due to predicaments this country has forced upon him. Who am I to know? And apparently I don’t have the guts to ask him. I’ve been known to give him a dollar here or 50 cents there, knowing my brief act of kindness won’t make a bit of difference in the long-run. Maybe in the very least, such acts remind him that he isn’t alone, and that people DO care about his ability to change his stars.

The truth is, this sort of thing breaks my heart. It KILLS me that it seems 7 out of 10 stop-lights that I get stuck at in this city have AT LEAST one of these broken people posted up, panhandling for money. And sure, there’s a good chance some of them are faking it, but it’s pretty easy to spot the ones who aren’t in my opinion. These people, most of them it seems, are suffering.You can tell by their sun-beaten, leather skin. That tired look in their eyes that tells you they’ve been on the streets for long enough to have convinced themselves they must have been BORN there. I can’t stand it. I find myself repeating quietly aloud after allowing a tear to fall from my cheek…… “I hate this country”. It’s hard to access my patriotic spirit when  I know that I live in a country that breaks people down until they turn to ash and dust. Meanwhile the 1%ers have it all….

I was listening to talk radio the other day in my car. They were talking about a man who was recently convicted of fraud for brewing wine in his kitchen that he was passing off as vintage. Supposedly one of the few wealthiest men on the planet had purchased some of this imposter wine from him and was the reason for said bold wine-brewer being caught. They were interviewing this “Richy” (a “Pretty in Pink” reference for those of you who are fans), and he had walked the interviewer into his wine cellar and explained that he’d spent over 5 million dollars on his wine collection thus far. He closed by saying that anyone who sells him a fake product has it coming to them, and that he will, and I quote, “hunt them down”.

I can’t begin to tell you how much this pissed me off….I found myself rooting for the kitchen wine guy, I mean why NOT try to get a piece of that action? A moment later I was at that same stoplight, trying not to look at that man whose face I know SO well, for fear of my typical emotional reaction. 5 MILLION dollars on wine???

Look….I know in this country there is an overwhelming majority of people (at least those who seem to be voting) that feel as though they are entitled to every cent they’ve earned and poverty is NOT their problem. They are against anything that may be leaning in the direction of socialism. I can’t pretend for a second that I’ve spent any significant amount of time over-thinking politics but somethings gotta give. I honestly feel as though most people will never have a chance at that sort of financial security. it’s designated to a select few, who….let’s be honest, work VERY little for it in most cases. Far less I’m sure than the “working class”.

Truth is, 8 or so years ago when I first saw this man with his beaten faux-leather jacket and stringy hair, it made me sad, but I still felt as though I was outside of it.

Now, things are different. It seems my entire family is struggling now on every corner of my bloodline. I myself, have been driving the same car for well over ten years now, a car that I paid off and is totaled due to a hail storm a few years back. It’s falling apart, it looks like crap, and I must now share it with Clay, because that’s all we have. We are for the first time living on our own, sharing a room with our 8 month old. What’s a nursery anyway? We can’t afford childcare because it’s ridiculously expensive (I’ll save that one for another day…). I’m finally collecting some benefits from the government that I feel are owed to me because I’ve been working my butt off for several years and going to school like a good girl, yet I have to be dead broke in order to collect such benefits. Unless I get lucky and knock a best-seller out of the park or write a song that ends up on the radio, (might I add that 50% or more of the lyrics on the radio are terrible nowadays…) I’ll probably never have a swimming pool in my backyard or a jacuzzi in my bathroom, as difficult as that is to admit.

Sometimes lately when I look at that mystery camper’s face I see my dad’s, and it kills me. My father who worked is heart out his entire adult life for his family, is now working part-time in a position he’s WAY over qualified for, answering to people much younger than him…..with ZERO healthcare benefits. Oh and did I mention he was diagnosed with metastatic kidney cancer a little over a year ago? His house is falling apart, he’s been nothing but generous to people and yet they can’t seem to step outside their busy world to help him and I can’t STAND it.

Whose to say that man on the corner didn’t get where he is today because he’s just alone….because slowly and without warning, everything he worked for slipped right out of his fingers and there was no one there to save him. My dad will probably never have a house in the hills of Austin as he always wanted and that breaks my heart. It’s not just him, everyone I love seems to be suffering in some way…..and some of us are really only a few steps away from  losing it all and BECOMING that man on the street. That professional Urban Camper. It’s difficult for me to drive by people like this anymore without my eyes swelling up and my nose stinging. And if there’s a sad song on the radio? Forget about it.

To the old man on that lonely corner….I’m sorry I can’t help you….and it’s because it feels like I’m slowly losing everything too, like the walls will come crashing down at any minute. Like the lives of the people who I call my family are hanging on by a thread. For what it’s worth…I’m aggravated for you. Even if you no longer have the strength to be that for yourself.

5 million dollars……on WINE?!

You’ve GOT to be kidding me.

Trader Joe’s, 3.99 a bottle….gets you just as drunk. I can attest to that.

Thank you.