A Living Magazine - Day 97 - Refreshments Provided By...

I was really hungry when I woke up. I'm not sure why it was so prominent on this day. I'd only eaten one thing the day before, but I was used to not feeling hungry until later in the day. I rose and packed up for the walk downtown...

Life finds a way... The Eleventh Street Bridge.

I'd never taken a picture of the other (non-park) side of the stream. So, I shot the following. There is no walkway or path down to it, but a way could be found if necessary. And, it looked like there were plenty of great camping/sleeping places...

On the walk up Seventh Street, just before I got to Sylva the cat's house, a patch of red caught my eye...

This was a big apple. Talk about low hanging fruit! This one was so low that it was never even seen by hungry passers-by. It was nearly perfect too except for this little hole...

Death Star Apple.

I cut out the flaw with my little pocket knife, shined it up, and voila! Did this look yummy, or what?

Along Second Avenue, I passed the equipment rental place again. I thought these were cool...

I am man, hear me bulldoze and dig! 

Then, for a change, I took a left onto Sprague Street...

A Jazzy bench. I love the way singing is portrayed--with the swirl coming out of the lips.

I was enjoying my apple immensely. Certainly one of the greatest lessons to be learned on the street is the ecstasy of the little positive things, especially when they fall into your lap...when you need them the most. This apple (a Macintosh) was tremendously sweet; like sugar had been forced into it, in addition to its own fructose. There was not the slightest hint of sourness nor, was it tart. The texture was firm, but not gritty. I'd never had a Mac that tasted like that. I almost felt like it had been delivered to me, as from a Tree of Life, or maybe it was a Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Whatever it was, it seemed to be symbolic somehow.

I had missed a post the day before, because of my panoramic zeal. That means there should have been two posts to publish on this day. I went to the library and published one of them. But, it grew late by the time I finished it, and I just accepted that I'd have to carry the deficit on to the next day (as I've done many times now).

I went down to the park before heading back to the creek... 

I checked online again to see if any further contributions had come in, and indeed the rest of the money needed for the ticket had been donated! I sat down at a table and immediately bought the ticket at Amtrak's site. I was half-tempted to wait, buy some food, and see if more would come in. But, I bit the bullet.

The hunger had subsided for quite awhile after eating the apple. Besides about a third of the money for the ticket to Minneapolis, which I couldn't touch, I had started the day with $6.49. Now that the ticket money was spent, that is all I had left for the next three days.

I put a spending cap of $2.50 on dinner, because I had no idea if another contribution might come in. It was a choice between a McDonald's dollar-ish menu or the Discount Grocery Store. I chose the latter and went in, placed my backpack in the front of the store (backpacks are prohibited there), and walked straight back to the meats and cheeses. As a rule, I will not buy carbohydrates when I'm in near-starvation mode. They are useless.

I saw the ham I got last time, but I was afraid that with tax it would be too much. In desperation, I checked out the Spam. That was a better price--seven ounces for $1.49. That would leave less than a $1.00. I really wanted cheese. But the smallest wheel of Gouda (the least expensive cheese) was $1.58. Arggh!! It can be so frustrating.

The most uncomfortable thing about not having money to buy food, is the constant feeling that it should be so easy, so natural to expect to eat whenever you want. You say to yourself: "Oh, I think I'll get a sandwich!" And then the awful fact dawns that you just can't do it. The mind is a real torturer when it comes to this. It will tell you that all you have to do is reach out and pick up the nearest piece of food and eat it. Why not? You're hungry, and there's some food--like the apple on the tree. Then two minutes after you've remembered you have no money, the same friggin' thought of grabbing closest food will occur all over again. Hell might be a place where that happens forever. It certainly is a place where this happens until the next PayPal contribution comes in--they are my paychecks.

Just after putting the Gouda back, I looked up, and on the top shelf was a two ounce block of cheddar for $0.59. I couldn't believe I'd missed it last time, but was glad I found it this time. I grabbed it paid for the two items, pulled the backpack on and hit the road. I was really hungry now, looking at the food in my bag and fantasizing about how it would taste. I don't think I've ever bought Spam before. It just doesn't appeal to me--all that solid fat and god-knows whatever other parts of the pig. But, on this night, I was ready to devour it eagerly. I compromised with myself, and decided I would wait to eat it until I reached the benches on the hill overlooking the creek.

When I got there, I sat down, pulled the lid off the Spam and ripped open the cheese wrapper. With my knife, I cut small blocks of Spam out of the can and bit off pieces of the cheese to match. It was really good. As I ate, I heard a truck drive up and park behind me on the road. I turned to see a white pickup, with its passenger's side window down...

"Excuse me?" asked the driver, "Do you want this sandwich? I'm not hungry and I haven't touched it?"

Feeling awkward, as I always do when something like this is offered, I stammered out a "...sure?"

I got up and walked over. He smiled and handed me a box with a paper seal that had not been removed yet. I thanked him. I knew he felt good about it, and I certainly wasn't going to pass up a sandwich on a day like this one.

I went back to my bench, and he drove off down the road toward Eleventh Street. I read the label on the box. It was a baked chicken, cheese, bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, with mayonnaise, on four grain bread. The price said: $6.49. It was the exact amount I'd started the day with! The symbolic nature of the day was quite palpable at that point. I could have spent all of my money on a high-quality, delicious and nutritious sandwich. I was so glad I had better impulse control than that. I ate the rest of the Spam and cheese, and then used the empty Spam can to put in the sandwich box, so it wouldn't get squished in my backpack. It would be saved for the next day.

When I really needed food, somehow I seemed to receive it. Still, I worried constantly about having enough money to eat at least one meal per day.  If I could believe that there was no need to worry, I knew I'd be happier and less stressed. But, I just couldn't believe; not like that. And, now I anticipated a train trip with no food or drink. It wears on me. Everytime. A sandwich a day is still too much to ask for or expect--irrespective of how hard I work. My mind will be a much happier place to inhabit, when or if - at the very least - the food insecurity is finally solved...somehow.

I returned to my sleeping place, feeling encouraged, but still worried. The sun sank away and a thin layer of clouds covered the waxing moon. I fell asleep easily in the pale light.