I woke to darkening skies; dark-not psychologically, but weather-wise. I didn't know yet that this would be the last time I would see Mitchell Park and The Domes.
This may be a kind of afterthought--though it isn't meant to be one, but the evening before, I had gone to the library to print off my Greyhound eTicket. There, I met who I believe was the head librarian (I'm assuming she was the head, since I'd seen her working in that kind of capacity a few times before). She helped me navigate the rather convoluted process of signing in as a guest and making sure the document printed correctly.
Her name was, Anna Walls, which we both got a kick out of. It was her formerly-married name, as she later told me after I'd inquired whether Walls was also a Scots-Irish name. When I showed her my ID, she said, "Oh, you're from Maine. You know, you look like you're from Maine," and smiled.
I said, "It must be the LLBean backpack." This made her laugh.
She told me she didn't know much about the state, but did have one connection. Her grandfather owned land on Peaks Island. I told her that was right off the Portland coast, that I'd been there many times and it was a beautiful place.
I also described my project, which she seemed very interested in and was enthusiastic about checking it out. I gave her a card. When we had finished the print job, I had two copies of my two tickets. I'm glad she was there or I would have had that bead of sweat form on my forehead over the technical issues that she was able to steer me through. I thanked her and walked off to the sleeping place, assured that I was ready for the trip that I will now get back to describing...
On this morning, I walked downtown via my usual route--Wisconsin Ave, and by Marquette University. I'd meant to walk all around their campus, but never had the chance. I took this picture in order to remind myself of it...
I always liked the area, which covered some four blocks. It was filled with college students in groups, crossing the streets, eyes often on their smartphones. Whenever I am based near colleges I am struck by how mature the young women look and by how immature the young men look. The women around here were quite pretty. The young men were quite fortunate. I would have had a lot of fun at this school when I was that age. It is a BIG social no-no for the street people to even speak to these students. The police patrol this area a like a prison camp--where the "prisoners" are on the outside.
I got to Starbucks and began what I now think is my best post so far, comparing my day before to Dorothy's trip to Oz. I worked HARD on that one; not taking a break for four hours and then working another four. Just after my break, and while settling back into my accustomed spot, I saw a woman about my age come in off the street.
She was tallish, very thin, perhaps East Indian(?), with long silky black hair a beautiful, sharp-featured face. She deceptively appeared to be new in town, with two rolling suitcases. I assumed she was there at Starbucks waiting for a ride, since she kept walking over to the window and looking outside, then sitting in a chair. She did this over and over again, finally going to the counter and buying a coffee and speaking with a very intelligent sounding and feminine voice.
There was something I felt about her. She looked somewhat nervous and clutched a little teddy bear, which she held close to her constantly, removing and then putting on her large sunglasses. I watched her, while trying not to add to her apparent anxiety. I noticed she was wearing a large down jacket and sneakers. This struck me as odd. A woman traveling and potentially staying at the Hilton who was that pretty - I thought - would have a more form-fitting jacket and maybe black shoes on. I'm not sure why I would stereotype a woman that way?
She got up and paced around the place a few more times, before standing over by the front door, again, looking out at the street. She fiddled several times with her cellphone. I was becoming concerned for her. I began to get the impression that her "ride" was never going to get there; that she might not have enough money to eat a meal and be stuck on these mean Milwaukee streets for the night. I almost got up several times to ask her if she was okay, but kept stopping myself.
The security guard from the Hilton showed up quietly perching himself on the short ramp which led to the cash register. He looked at her, then stared at her, as she stood by the door. I felt myself rise involuntarily and walked over to her to ask if she was waiting for a ride, would like me to buy her a sandwich, or if she needed a few dollars for the bus.
She removed her sunglasses and looked surprised (but pleasantly) that someone would talk to her. She smiled and said, "I do look a little nervous don't I?" I just told her that I wanted to be sure she was okay. I sensed that she might actually be homeless at this point. She told me she was from around here, and that she occasionally came to "visit" this Starbucks. She kindly declined my offer to buy her food and said she was all set with money. I think - in hindsight - that she may have simply been embarrassed. I found her very attractive, but her face had some kind of hidden and serious pain behind it.
In a further attempt to put her at ease, I told her about my project, and immediately her eyes lit up. She said that she and her old boyfriend had been homeless and slept outside many times. They had also worked with the Salvation Army shelter to lobby the city, and even the Federal Government for more resources in Milwaukee. Sadly, several people had died just in the last year due to problems with not being able to find a safe shelter. She said, "In fact, you might be interested in this letter", reaching into her purse and pulling it out...
It was powerful and an original document. I never had the chance to ask her if she herself were going to deliver or send it, because the security guard, and another, had now crept in that way that they do when they are trying (but failing) to be subtle.
I reached out for her hand, and she cautiously shook mine--not from fear of me, but because she seemed to be afraid of letting go of that teddy bear. I asked what her name was. She said, "Kitty". I told her mine. I can only guess that the guard thought I might be trying to "pick her up". If he only knew that she and I shared so much interest in this subject...
I took a "cue" from the Spark that there would be another time and place, if circumstances permitted it someday, for us to meet again. I gave her my card and calmly returned to the table, to finish my post. The rain began to fall. I looked at her, and she at me, as the guard led her into the hotel section. She smiled at me widely and I winked back in friendship; both of us knowing that we were part of the bottom--the result of the problem, but maybe also the beginning of the solution.
I edited and published the post, then left, wanting to get back to the sleeping spot before the sky really opened up. As I walked quickly toward the 27th Street Bridge, I turned over in my head the prospect of being out in the soaking downpour that I knew was coming. Even more, was I concerned about disassembling the tent and fly, stuffing them into my backpack on the cold wet morning and walking to the bus station. It occurred to me that the station was probably open all night, since one of the options online was a ride to Chicago at 3:55 am.
Why don't I just go there, spend the night since I legitimately have a ticket, stay dry and safe, and then leave in the morning? I'm not sure why the concept took so long to develop, but I turned around and walked back into town. The station was only another half mile, lit up like an indoor-sunny day.
I passed this empty business, and grinned, thinking about what a great location it would be when marijuana becomes legal someday here...
I feel compelled to say that it could be a while, however, because Wisconsin has one of the strictest and least logical set of laws prohibiting the use of that plant. In this state they haven't even caught up to the medical use, despite tons of objective federal medical studies PROVING its effectiveness.
If you are are caught in Wisconsin with ANY amount under 2.5 oz (even a seed) of the "evil herb", the first offense is considered a misdemeanor, with a fine of up to $1,000 and a year in jail, which can be lessened by attending a "program". Being re-brainwashed by the state allows the charge to be removed from your record.
If you are stupid enough to be caught a second time, it is considered a full blown felony (again, even one seed), with a $5,000 fine and mandatory 5 years in prison! Upon the third offense they throw away the key.
On the other hand, Wisconsin's liquor laws are almost irresponsibly lax. In many towns you can drink alcohol in public. I saw this in Mitchell Park, where people just walked around drinking beer. Liquor stores are not controlled by the state. A child of ANY age can drink alcohol as long as she/he is accompanied by an family member, guardian or spouse over 21. And, alcohol is cheap, plentiful and sold at any store with a license to do so.
A reminder to you all: exclusively alcohol related physiological issues account for hundreds of thousands of deaths in the United States each year, while exclusively marijuana physiologically related health issues have never accounted for even one death in the history of all humanity. Just a little thing to consider next time you go to vote. I'll stop about all that for now, since I can become a bit of a one-note trumpet on the issue.
I walked into the station and asked at the ticket counter whether I could spend the night there, since I had no place to sleep in town, had a ticket and was leaving at 7:00 am the next morning. The Greyhound representative said, "Absolutely!" Music to my dampened ears.
I sat at a little table with an AC outlet, free Wi-fi, plenty of vending machine options, dry, safe and satisfied that I'd made the correct decision. Thanks again to the Spark.
I was tired. Writing like I did with that day's post really exhausts me. I find it more tiring than walking long distances. I just wanted to relax, realized I would probably not be sleeping that night, and needed to kill some time, while forcing myself not to work for awhile...
I'd never seen these before.
I watched an "Avengers" movie. It was good, filled with mindless action, plenty of sci-fi imagery and concepts, and surprisingly good acting, dialogue and direction. It was long too, at well over two hours.
Just at the end I saw flashing lights cover the inside walls of the station. All night, homeless folks had been coming in and seeking a warm dry place to sit for a while to take shelter from the rain. The kind security officer was very liberal about this, letting them remain as long as they didn't cause any problems. This is extraordinarily rare, and technically against station rules. I would find out more shortly.
A fire truck pulled up and two men walked inside and up to two black men who were sitting a short distance from me. Apparently one of them was having some sort of health related emergency...
To give some sense about how common this must be, not a single sleeping traveler was concerned about this enough to wake up. The security officer stood, hands folded in front of him, as an ambulance pulled up and medics joined the firemen inside.
They took the man's vitals and discovered that he wasn't doing too badly. I went over to the officer and asked him if the guy was going to be alright. He told me that he probably would be, and was doing well enough to walk out to the ambulance. We talked for a moment and I saw something special in his eyes.
We introduced ourselves, I told him about my project and that I had lived around these unfortunate folks for over a year on my Journey. That began a night filled with one of the most fascinating discussions I'd had with a stranger since leaving Spokane, Washington...
Meet Jim, head of night security.
He must have seen in me a kindred soul, because we had no problem then delving from social and health issues into philosophy and religion. I'll wait for him to contact me online before I go into the tons of details about our talk. Let me say though, that he was not a Bible thumper. I told him something about my Cosmic Philosophy (that I have discussed here many times), and he genuinely listened and agreed with much of it. He is the first self-described "Christian" I've met who doesn't believe in hell. This, alone, won me over to his light-hearted and merciful nature.
Jim's ancestry is fascinating. His father was an Albanian Macedonian Muslim. His mother was a Christian (I believe?). He had his own "father issues" growing up and could relate to mine. In many ways he reminded me of an older version of my brother in law, Rick--keeping me in stitches with his keen humor and amiable personality. We were not an older and younger man discussing things, but rather like brothers. He is one of the youngest people I have ever met, in that he held no unbreakable prejudices, nor stubbornly held ideologies. His open mind was refreshing and the long hours passed easily. He works only third shifts. He has worked there for the last seven years and has seen it all.
I asked him if situations like the one we saw tonight happens a lot. He said, "All the time. The homeless problem is left largely unaddressed in this city. Jails don't want these folks, neither do shelters, and businesses are highly phobic of them. Each organization will volley them to another in order to not deal with them." He said that the mental and psychological problems these street people deal with are the primary reasons for the number of issues and incidents. He has been held at gunpoint, threatened with broken bottles, spit upon, but here is the thing...
Jim is not there to enforce rules. He is a kind and fair man who literally serves the dirty and disturbed elements of Milwaukee's most desperate human beings, as would a psychologist or social worker.
There was the woman who smoked even though her baby was born with breathing problems and required an oxygen talk. He convinced her to quit, and showed me a picture of the baby whom she brought back in for him to see once she'd conquered her problem.
There was "Eddie the Crapper", an old guy who lived for many years under the bridge by the station, staggering, straight-legged into the place every morning for a coffee, often not being able to control his bowels and dropping excrement on the floor and outside in the bus area. No one would touch him (literally or figuratively). But, Jim would help him, buy him a coffee, clean up his Eddie messes, show him mercy and brotherly love, unconcerned about Eddie's disgusting smell and appearance. Eventually Eddie stopped coming in. Concerned that maybe the guy had died, Jim researched the issue and found that Eddie had finally ended up in an institutional group home, was all cleaned up and living comfortably now. Jim went in to visit Eddie, who had been a gruff and hard headed man while on the street.
"Well," said Jim, "he was just as rough and short-tempered as he'd always been, but when he saw me, something in his blue eyes changed for a moment." Jim could tell Eddie remembered him and really appreciated all that he had done.
These words that I write about Jim do not even scratch the surface of this complex man, nor give justice to what he voluntarily puts up with. HE is taking the Action in the world that I've spoken about so many times. He doesn't just do his job, he LIVES HIS PHILOSOPHY. He is Love in Action.
He had things to deal with and I wanted to rest a bit before leaving, as the hour was quickly approaching. I will never forget this man as long as I live. I will very likely have more to say about him in the future.
The nature of the Journey is changing from one of me writing about people, to truly getting to know them. I'm not sure how frequently this will continue. But it has emboldened me, filled me with a new kind of "mission" (not a good word) and the Spark's convoluted methods seem to be untying what for me has been a confusing and unfocused meander around this country of ours. It certainly does squeeze every last tiny drop out of each experience, before moving me up a notch to the next level.
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