is traveling right now on the train
He’s been off the streets for a month
and if he makes his curfew by 10:00
he won’t get kicked out again.
Oh, oh, Oh
I see the anxiousness in his eyes
as I drive him to the station
and wave goodbye.
His twin sons at Harvard Law
and his girls 5 and 10,
can’t rely on Daddy anymore
cause his unemployment ran out again.
Oh, oh, Oh
Daniel my brother,
you are younger than me
and I feel the real pain,
of the scars society won’t see.
When they gauge the
color of your skin,
to predetermine you’ll never
kick their crack assumption again
oh, Oh, oh
so shelter now until till
set-up to fail at 10:00
keep the doors revolving
like native American history,
to keep the pale employed
as the only ones
allowed truly free.
Daniel my brother,
you are younger than me
and I feel the real pain,
of the scars society won’t see…
|Thru these doors to
The Wonderful World of
Back in my day,,,
huh I never thought I’d get to hare and bea old enuf ta say that, but that’s the second time now I’m starting my story with it. Anyway Sunday nights were special with Mom not slaving away in the kitchen preparing a fresh feast from garden and farm for the 7 of us to eat, just her cast iron kettles of popcorn brought into the living room where the other 6 were already spread out on the floors, stairway and furniture watching the Magnovox, change the channel whoever’s closest, stereo consol TV…
All of us were played out, and always there ready for Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom, followed directly by Walt, personally pitching his Wonderful World of Disney. Sunday nights were special, at least at the time, for our family.
So today when I saw Richard Branson’s posting of the 4 women in his life, and it prompted the question for me, I answered his challenge and quickly posted these pics and short introductory.
Wa’ell one memory ledta another and scanning that incredible pic, started me contemplating the universe and family, and how much the simple things in life, like having a home and stove to pop popcorn on, with doors that lead to the memories of that Sunday Specially Familyroom, can mean and bring to a caring human being.
So I couldn’t think of a better way nor a better story about the incredible women in my life to use this as an introductory.
is still the best!
I’d like ya’awl ta welcome Kristi Jo Jedlicki to my online family as the new co-author/owner/producer of this website, Tales from along the Homeless Trail, for as long as she enjoys to be.
Her “fellows or guys” at the Homeless shelter she’s the Program Director at call her “Ms. Kristi”, I describe her as the Mother Teresa of Kentucky, I’m not sure what her two beautiful daughters call her intimately, but to combine it all now officially, again please welcome Ms. Kristi (Mother Teresa) of Kentucky.
I stumbled upon her writing exploring WordPress as a host for this website, and couldn’t believe the warmhearted, compassionate stories Kristi was publishing almost daily. How she lives, what she does, and what she receives from the gifts she presents into the Universal energy, is an inspiration to me that I hope the world soon also sees. I’m honored that our trails crossed, and that for the time being we’re going to hike along together here and share our stories.
Ms. Kristi can take it from here as this is one of the latest stories from That’s another Story that captured my heart and interest. I hope you enjoy her recent “Welcome Home” awaiting you on the other side of those Doors to the Family Specially room, as much as I, “jist dun did.”
Thanks and welcome again, Ms. Kristi 🙂
Write me in and I’ll come back!
If ewe is anything like me ya jist couldn’t wait ta open yer Saturday junk mail taday and I’m shore glad I did! In the middle uv that now rubber banded stack was this year’s ballot fer the Pouwk County Co-oped Electrical monopoly, strangley named, “Polk-Burnett”.
|The X box|
Wa’ell low and bahold thare’s a spot up fer election on that Monopoly’s board of dye-rectors and with jist the one unresponsive comatosed Incombpetent re-runnin fer re-election unapposed!
Soes, I’ma excited ta announce my write in candidacy fer this hare open bored seat! Jist like Mayor Bloomberg, I’m forebearing any outside intrists dirdee money, and am financing my entire campaign, including payin up the nose fer my crack volunteer electoral staff, from what’s left uv my minuative fortune from my recent attempt ta flee Wall Street.
|The whole Shebang|
Unlike the mayor, I ain’t gonna attempt to nor portend it’s my duty to change the electoral laws ta retain my position till I’m ready ta launch the next step ta expand my national kingdom. I’m jist gonna go down ta bookkeeping and aisk what’s the holdup on gittin signatures and mailing all those
customer rebate checks?
|English: New York City Mayor Mike Bloomberg with Spider-Man at Midtown Comics Downtown. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)|
Soes when ya see this in yer Junk mail, open it up, douwn’t jist throw it out. Put yer X in the box instead, fill in my name, thats spelled V. A.G. A. B O. N. D. T. E. D, sign it and send it right back on out.
I’ll sit in that bored chair, I’ll git some action otta thare committee, they’ll start gittin those checks out, then I’ll go fishin! You have my word as a new politrician on that!
|Mark Hovarth @hardlynormal at SOBCon 2011 (Photo credit: ShashiBellamkonda)|
+Mark Horvath has lived the American dream forwards, backwards, and inbetween and is now blazing forward, full speed ahead once again. His story is astonishing and his work is legendary to anyone who doesn’t happen ta be a no-glance passerby. In 3 years he’s had more impact raising the awareness of the Homeless crisis, then the impact of all the baby kissing from these past election cycles than the new Pope, old Pope, Mitt, and Bacharach combined!
More of the Storee:
|Maria’s former Ahhnold|
He has also personally lifted as many of his and my friends from those dark forgotten alleys and from under the overpasses as anyone ever could, except maybe if Maria had caught Arnold 20 years ago and thus put her Conan to some useful, good Catholic penance work.
The Video Campaign
|Don’t ya jist love
print media and not havin
ta listen ta this??
I’ve donated what I can to support this effort because I know first hand the misconception and blinded convenience conditioned into our 20 year upwardly mobile technological revolution and Clinton economic miracle society prior to the Bush frat party debacle and hangover sequel that even gave Bill O’Reilly a perennial migrane. So here is my personal plea to add to the chorus and a challenge to all readers, family, former friend or foe, to please read below and RESPOND to this!
The Vagabond Ted Manure Gloves Off Challenge:
If’n I kin git the sum total from all my loyal readers, as well as those secretionally reedin this posting from my group uv Anonymous better than art thous still hiding bahind that narcissistic scum sucking leech’s butt, ta contribute a mere $1 in total ta each of my last dimes ($25), I’ll take the summer crash coarse frum that thare writtin correspond-dence school Ima tryin ta git back into and quit a’writtin liek this!
|Periodista Anderson Cooper rescate nino haitiano (Photo credit: Remolacha.net pics)|
HELL, I’ll even volunteer ta designate my Anderson Cooper Priced Watersports House of Accountancy firm ta tally the pitchin in, in confidentiul reality. After they’re dun toilin in complete obscurity, I’ll evun record the video uv them prancin right in front uv the camera cross the stage ta expect an award and report ta ya’awl the total received, along with the proper four hundred and twenty, 401(c) forms ya’awl will bea needing to avoid a friendly IRS raid! (I already know this ain’t gonna make that thare awards show and the only way I could git the Anderson Cooper Priced Watersports bois ta dew the countin was ta promise I’d record their prance).
|Homeless Near the Lilies of Balboa Park (Photo credit: peasap)|
|Sun of my Dreams
R Philip Duke *
Isn’t it great that in these inside out times whare most peoples eyes are glued ta their fantasies of islands whare studio-screened screaming contestants vying ta pretend ta be barely surviving by ignoring the trays of subways, snacks, and bottled water jist off camera, all the while looking directly at ya thru the lens, after jist gittin their hair and makeup dun did ta make it look like they’re societee outcasts actin surprised they’re cast wayout on some fantasy island and all, that we still have real stories of professional real survivors occuring Every Day and ya don’t even hafta pay those unreal cable bills ta watch? On top of that, it’s available completely free 24*7 in realtime in Every Major Down-Town City, U.S. uv A.! Read more…
This was a very special
5 acre dream until recently, and there are many bitter sweet thoughts, emotions and sighs running thru these old Vagabond bones this week. It started as a “what if” challenge to the usual doubt and denial of
pleasurable experience my life had been based in, and looked to be thundering toward that reconfirmation when upon leaving the closing, I was welcomed by the doorknob oft into my hand, and the three sided lake porch of shattered panes of glass. Thankfully the storms mostly subsided and over the next 15 (maybe 18?) years that it held me captive as Caretaker, it also transformed itself into this.
Everyone who found time and gave self there, felt it’s restorative and spiritual energies, and enjoyed the natural beauty it so proudly shared.. I take with me the accumulation of the change in each individual from that very first arrival to their final goodbyes.
My memory will always be of how each visitor left more relaxed with a different and better energy after each visit, and the net transformation and wisdom that grew within all, over their frequent or just occasional returns throughout the years. My most cherished and warmest memories that I’m also most proud of, are the happiness it brought to those who truly treasured their time there, who are no longer physically here. It offered that in abundance as it knew, that’s the only reason I was there….
I’m honored and blessed to have been the one to witness it’s transformation from that offed door knob and those shattered windows, to This. I can only smile knowing the warmth, wonder, discovery and surprises in store, for the new Steward(s) it’s already chosen and is anxiously waiting to instill over, all the coming many happy years.
After 6 months of haphazard moving, and living between motel rooms, storage units, and towns, I finally found a place to rest but not settle, these wary (spelling correct) old bones “fer a spell”. This house is a 120 year old Victorian that reminded me of the old farmhouse I grew up running around in Iowa, as well as an infamous Eddy’s abode somewhat, that any of my fellow old timers should know 🙂
Fer ewe youngsters growed up on video games, ADHD tablets and cellphones, instead of aluminum dinners on TV trays watching b&w TV, before heading outside again to play kick the can, you’ll probably have to Google to get it, if you’d like to follow along and understand….
Happy Sunday morning smile to All,
from this Old Vagabond’s new,
Old Teddy Munster House!