A Living Magazine - Day 14 - 4th of July

Note: If you are friends with me at Facebook, go there to see dozens of other pictures from yesterday. If we're not friends, friend me!

* * * * * * *

When I opened my eyes I experienced a phenomenon that used to happen in the first crossing. For a few moments I had no idea where I was. Then I recalled I was in the capital city of California. But, then I had another mental block. I couldn't remember the name of the city! This would plague me off and on all day--forgetting and then remembering the name. It is the first time that's ever happened.

I had come down pretty hard on this place in the days before. But, today would soften my hard heart a bit. I packed up. Then I walked down to the first major street, Truxel Road, to see if I could find a convenience store for coffee. There were a couple. I noticed, while drinking my coffee, that W El Camino Avenue passed over Truxel. I shot these on may way around there...

Presunrise

I'd recalled seeing El Camino in the north part of the city the day before, so I took it back over there, to look for the McDonald's I'd passed by on Del Pasos. I found it easily after a good 5 mile stroll. The Nextbook was getting low on power. But I had a few more things to do online before it died altogether.

I worked feverishly making screenshots and worked on the post about the day before. I was also worried about the batteries in my camera being almost drained. I wanted to see more of the center of the city and find the place where the fireworks would be set off. And, I planned to take a lot of pictures. I considered buying more batteries, but I had to save up for a train trip to Redding, if I could pull it off.

There was no need to stay there any longer. I wasn't looking forward to the 5 mile walk back to the down town area. As I reached Del Pasos, I walked over the light rail tracks. Why not take the light rail into town? It was only $2.50, which seemed well worth having more time to hang out in town.

The kiosk accepted all forms of cash (except pennies), but no cards. It so happened that I had a pile of change. I tapped through the screens first just to make sure I understood how the process working before committing any money. It seemed pretty straightforward. So, I took the plunge...

Sacrameto Regional Transit Ticket for the Light Rail

Riding the Light Rail

As soon as I detrained at the I Street and 12th Street stop, I recognized the area from the day before, and made my way back up I Street passing all the places I'd passed that last night on my walk out of town.

I saw the Capitol Mall entrance and walked around the Capitol Building...

Side view of the Capitol Building.

Front View

I noticed at the end of the long Mall complex was a golden-colored bridge. I walked to it...

The Tower Bridge

Crossing over it, I got some good shots of the boats already gathering in the river harbor...

On the other side of the river was a small resting place. I had a good view of the where the fireworks were being set up...

Pretty small fireworks set-up, compared to Portland, Maine.

It was getting pretty hot out and I didn't feel like sitting around so I went back in town. I thought maybe I could find some personal space in Cesar Chavez Park. But I was wrong. Every bench and grassy spot was occupied by other homeless people...

Occupy Homelessness?

The sign at these parks list the restrictions. One of them is that there be no loitering "from dusk to dawn." So the days are full game. These people were hanging out with each other. They all seemed to know each other. They were fooling around or sleeping, just having as good a time as they could. I felt like I was caught between two worlds. To the police I looked homeless. To the homeless I looked preppy.  I definitely didn't belong in either world.

The "regulars" I spoke of in the last post were all there. Throughout the day they would be checking me out as we saw each other around the city blocks. They all knew when a new guy was in town. They weren't hostile in any way, but they were curious.

This park - nigh, all the parks - were like mini town squares for the ones who had no common meeting place of their own. Most housed-citizens (trying to look for a term that expresses the opposite of homelessness?) simply did not use the parks during the day. "Regular" people had cars and restaurants, businesses and "jobs." They had personal spaces for retreat from the public spaces. The homeless themselves would choose to sit in the shadows of the tall buildings, on the concrete when they wanted to be alone.

Everyone had a backpack. About 50% pushed or pulled their possessions around in carts. I thought it exceptionally sad to think that they were buying into the idea that the amount of stuff one has equals more dignity, or maybe respect. But it was junk. I felt the relatively light pack on my back. I was fortunate to have moved beyond the notion of "stuff equals personal value."

Our culture raises us to be "thing-fetishists." We gather STUFF like a sneaker gathers dust. All of us do; rich and poor, and even apparently, the utterly destitute. To tie ourselves to our stuff, is probably one of the sickest features of American culture.

I realized my chances for resting were better over by Tower Bridge. As things were in Gallup New Mexico on the last journey, EVERYTHING is surveilled. I stopped to get a rock out of my shoe on the City Hall lawn, and as I was putting it back on, a security guard walked up to me. Seeing I was leaving he simply said, "Have a good day."

And, it would be a better day than the day before. Here are some more sites on my way back to the bridge...

Getting back to the riverfront, and after resting for a bit in the shade, I decided to explore Old Sacramento; the renovated original part of the city, kept in quasi-western form...

  

And, then there was the obligatory fundamentalist Christian screaming his irritating voice at the people who were just there to have fun. Jamming Jesus down people's throats, how noble! Is there any way that people can't understand why this is hurting rather than helping his cause?

Blind and Invasive Evangelism

I was getting really thirsty and wanted to build up a supply of water that would last the night. I went into some place up on the boardwalk. While I was drinking one of the 5 waters I bought, I noticed a pigeon with a nasty cancer or injury to his right foot. He was struggling a bit to walk. I couldn't help myself, and reached into my backpack for a crushed bag of chips I'd been hauling around, and sprinkled it on the ground for him.

 

I stayed with him for a while and he stood right next to me. Another pigeon flew down, and amazingly I noticed that he had the same issue with his right foot. I have no idea what might have caused these leprosy-like symptoms. If I have a chance I'll look into it. Of course, no one cares. They consider pigeons "rats with wings." It may surprise people to learn that pigeons eating scraps off the ground keep the populations of rats and roaches lower. But, whatever. Any suffering in the world is cause for concern. If we think certain animals are to be demonized, while others are put up on pedestals, it is really saying more about our own callousness and ignorance about nature. Are we inconvenienced by them? I say: TOO BAD.

The hours were creeping by. I'd seen just about everything in the city center. So, I sat for awhile and just people-watched. A tourist guy, stumbled off the board walk from a river cruise with his German wife (I knew she was German because she announced it to everyone who stopped by), helping him walk. They sat down near me and discussed the injury he must just have received.

A homeless guy walked up and acted like a paramedic. He bent down and felt the man's ankle. He told them he was an Iraq War veteran, and that they were trained to help each other on the battlefield. Then he mentioned that he had done three tours of duty. When he came back (so he claimed) the government gave him no compensation, and now he was homeless, having "lived off the river for three days." The German woman knew right away what was coming next, and so did I.

"So, I'm really hungry."

She said, "Vell, om weally sawry, but vee have no sandviches oon us."

Reading the writing on her wall, the (possible?) vet exited the scene. She called after him, saying, "Zank you for your serwice." He smiled and waved back at her, muttering something under his breath. Later as I wandered over the bridge again, I saw him working the docks, as if he were the official boat tier-upper...

Creative Methods...

This amused me to no end. Well, at least he was trying to perform some kind of service for people, rather than just begging money. With his second strike out, I was done watching him.
As the sun sank low, I crossed the bridge once again to look for a spot along the River Path from which to see the fireworks.

I found a great place and settled in, right at the water's edge on a sandy little beach. I pulled out my tarp and laid down for a nap. After a good 1 hour snooze, I was awoken by the mooring of a rented party boat, just offshore. The boats were competing for broadcasting the loudest Pandora streams.

I REALLY wanted to video the fireworks, but my camera batteries died after taking a picture of the geese who flew in to hang out on the beach--about an hour before the fireworks started...

The Last Picture

It turns out that, although they did well for the small number of fireworks they had, it was a largely unimpressive display. The people enjoyed it though, which was the important part. I had to laugh at these non-coastal Californians and the boats they obviously only used twice a year. Mainers would be very entertained. That's all I'll say about that.

After the fireworks I pulled out the sleeping bag and made this spot my nest. It was a nice place to sleep. Once the majority of boats who weren't staying the night had gone, it was just the small rippling waves sloppy-kissing the beach that was my sound track for the night.

Sacramento Sleeping Place 3