Throw Away People (standard:drama, 2227 words)
Author: J P St. Jullian	Added: Jul 25 2002	Views/Reads: 3544/2301	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
What is it like to be homeless? What causes homelessness? Do you watch the homeless with suspicion?

Throw Away People 

Do you see me?  If you do it's not because I don't try to stay hidden. 
From my hiding place I watch as you prosperous-looking people walk from 
your cars to your offices each day.  I know that if you saw me, your 
faces would mirror your suspicion and disapproval, so I hide. 

I was one of you once, believe it or not.  Though you probably don't
know it or even suspect it, some of you are dancing on the very same 
tightrope over the very same abyss that I have fallen into.  Yes, you 
are. 

None of you know that I am here, so close by, just here in the car, a
few feet away from you.  None of you can possibly know what it's like 
once you get here.  Let me take this opportunity to tell you.  I will 
use this old manual typewriter, for which no one would pay me as much 
as three desperately needed dollars for at a yard sale.  No matter.  
Maybe this is why I still have the silly thing, to write down my story 
for you. 

I sat in my car last night and counted my money, which added up to
$39.00 pitiful little dollars.  I found a pretty cheap motel, but on 
this night, I will have to start sleeping in my car.  I will have to 
find some way to make $7.00 stretch to feed myself for the next ten 
days, and then I will have another paycheck.  My meager paycheck will 
keep me in a cheap motel again for about a week, and then it's back to 
the car until next pay day. 

Are you surprised that I work for a living, yet I am homeless?  The pay
I get isn't enough for a deposit on an apartment, and living expenses 
don't permit me to save any money at all.  Anyway, this job may end 
very soon.  I won't mourn it's loss too much, except that it will leave 
me jobless, still homeless, and with no other evident prospects.  
What's that you ask?  Oh, how did I get here?  Well, it's like this . . 
. 

I used to enjoy a very upper middle-class lifestyle but my spiral
downward from that started a few years ago.  After a bitter divorce 
from my wife of 22 years, I had finally gotten it back together and was 
happily employed at a job earning over $50,000 a year.  Then my father 
died of cancer, leaving me, and only child,  to care for my aged mother 
who was steadily advancing into the demented world of Alzheimer's. 

I had to make some hard decisions about my future.  I had a pretty good
savings account and figured I could get by on that for several years if 
I was judicious, so I quit my job and moved to mom's apartment in 
Mississippi, where I cared for her over two years.  We survived on my 
savings and the annuity Dad left for Mom.  I don't know if any of you 
has ever tried to care for an Alzheimer's patient, but let me tell you, 
it is sheer hell!  Mom died, leaving me broke, and drained of 
self-confidence.  My ability to concentrate was almost gone.  I was now 
in my mid 50's.  I had to see what my prospects were like for 
employment so I could get on with my life.  News reports told of high 
unemployment among “older workers,” and I was now 57.  Older workers, I 
found, meant anyone over 40.  I figured it would be different for me, I 
was educated.  I had a college degree, so I would fit in nicely 
someplace. 

I didn't.  However, I did manage to find an office job with a meager
salary that at least lets me keep body and soul together. 

So that's when I started my spiral down to where I am now. I lost the
apartment because I could no longer afford to pay the rent.  I drive 
through the streets of Jackson, looking for a good place  to spend the 
night.  After a time you get the hang of picking a suitable spot but at 
first, it's hard.  There seems to be something wrong with each one of 
the street side parking spaces I check.  Here is a house whose windows 
would look directly into my car if I stopped here, there a space is too 
near a busy intersection with heavy traffic.  To remain anywhere, I 
know I must remain invisible.  The one quiet area I find is also an 
isolated place.  There is danger in such isolated areas. 

Finally, I go to the Holiday Inn and check into one of its many parking
spaces.  It all looks so civilized, kind of safe. 



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