Spitball Army

15 December 2008

You could say that the Southern California lifestyle is an outdoors culture.  Inclement weather occurs so seldom that there is rarely a reason to stay indoors.  Not so today.

I drove to the pool at 5:00 a.m., despite the cold and wind.  By the time I arrived, the sky had begun to express itself with intermittent spittles of rain.  I had nearly completed half a mile in the outdoor pool when the lifeguard shut it down.  The rule of thumb here is that if the bottom of the pool is not visible from above, due to choppiness on the water’s surface, then it is time to clear out the swimmers.  In Alabama, in the indoor pool, if it begins to rain and there is a possibility of thunder and lightning, the gig is up.  Again, cultural differences abound.

I visited Phyllis, a family friend, after stopping for coffee and waiting in vain for the sun to show its face.  I asked Phyllis if she sees this much rain often.

“Once a year?” I asked.

Phyllis turned her mouth in thought.  She tentatively shook her head.  “No, not even once a year,” she said, pensively.

We both looked out her sliding glass door, toward her beautifully landscaped backyard, where the rainwater was beginning to collect in a miniature pond on her cement patio.  In the background, dozens of Birds of Paradise were swaying in the gale.

14 December 2008

Once the drive up the I-5 from San Diego reached Carlsbad and Oceanside, he realized just how beautiful his hometown was, and how he had probably taken its natural beauty for granted.  There is not a stretch of forested road in Alabama that compares with the eucalyptus groves that line the Pacific Coast highway between mid-town Carlsbad and the Mission Avenue exit in Oceanside.  Turning west off the interstate, he drove straight toward the beach, a mere ten or so blocks from the highway, where the sun was beginning to sink into the ocean.  The sight was stunning and humbling.  He made a mental note to telephone his friend in San Diego – who has lived only thirty miles away from this town for most of her life and has never seen its beaches or its pier – the first thing the next day, to make sure she didn’t live another week without witnessing this for herself.

He also thanked God, for the great gift and the inspiration.

Received via e-mail from Kim on 12 December 2008, at 9:13 a.m.:

Just spoke with Jennifer and there is an opening at First Light Shelter. Now the task is convincing Kathy that she should go there at least through tonight as it is getting down to 29 degrees.

I’m about to bundle up and go down to talk to her.

Going to a shelter for the weekend is only a quick fix to a long term problem. Hopefully, if she does go, she can connect to a social worker there.

I’m still interested to know how and why this happened and what kind of support can be garnered in our community since it happened in our community.

Will keep you posted.

Received via e-mail from Kim on 12 December 2008, at 8:30 a.m.:

On my way to take Bailey to school, I noticed that she was not wearing the boots I gave her. They were on the table that she was at last night so I assume they did not fit. Last night, she was wearing 3 layers of socks and some Crocs sandal shoes! So she needs shoes!

On the return route, I saw her on the other side of the park sitting at a table. At least she was wearing the scarf I gave her.

This morning, as I was taking the first sip of freshly-brewed coffee from a clean ceramic mug in the warmth of my roof-covered, fortified home, the following e-mail rang into my freshly-charged BlackBerry:

Over the last 6-8 months, the Homewood community has had a vagrant. This is a rarity in our community so my curiosity has been jousted by this woman that I’ve seen on our streets. I’ve driven by her several times but have not stopped. She has become a near mythical figure to my son and his buddies that like to hang out at Homewood Park. They have referred to her as the hobo lady, the park witch etc…With my life as busy as it stays, I’ve never taken the opportunity to stop and talk to her to assess the situation. This is something I’ve done in the past. Yes, I’ve made it a point to stop and befriend bums.

Tonight I had to draw the line! On my way home from Homewood High School, I looked over in the park and there she was, sitting on a park bench, huddled under her pile of ragged blankets. I live close to the park so I drove Bailey on home, went in the house and piled a few more layers on myself and proceeded to go join the woman down in the park. The first thing I usually do with vagrants is just assess their mental state. Are they coherent? Do they know their name? Well, her name is Kathy. She was a very articulate woman. She is about 65-70 years old.

Anyone who lives in or around Homewood knows that this city has seen a lot of apartments torn down to build condos. Well she was displaced by this so called progress. The apartments across from Boutwell Studios is where she called home. They told her she had to leave. She had the opportunity to buy one of the condos but she was in no financial position to do so. As a consequence, she is now homeless.

I considerately queried her about her past. She said she used to work at UAB doing office work. Her demeanor changed when she talked about this. She sat a little more erect and confident as if just the act of reflecting on her accomplishments, even if they were long ago, were enough to spark something within her.

She claims she has no family to call on but I sensed that there may have been a little more to the estrangement so I did not press the issue. I really wanted to take her somewhere, somewhere warm and comforting and I did not have this to offer. I can’t bring her into my home as it is tiny and cramped.

So I told Kathy that I would be back with a care package and a weather report.

When I left, I first stopped by the police station. The officer I spoke with was very familiar with her. He said that he checks in on her from time to time. She knows she is welcome to take shelter in the police station lobby if the weather gets too tough. It still enrages me to know that she has been on the streets this long and noone has rallied any support for her.

I ran back by my apartment and picked up a pair of snow boots that I have not worn in over a year, a scarf and some gloves. I then went to the gas station and bought her some cigarettes and hot chocolate. When I got back to where she was, she just lit up. I could tell she was holding back some tears. I remained there with her for about 30 minutes. I made small talk with her about the changes in Homewood, especially how the park has changed. I left her there in the cold.

My instinct was to bundle up and stay by her side through the night. Being sick myself, I could not do this. I almost have a sense of guilt as I lay here in my warm bed in certain creature comforts that this woman has not known for nearly a year.

Gulp.

This message was totally in character for my friend, Kim, who sent it.  She has devoted a weekly night for the last few months to rally people to battle it out with their knowledge of music trivia, all to benefit a local music education charity.  Here was a plea from her to get others aware of their surroundings.

Kathy’s story is riveting, but not unique.  There are people like her in every city and town, not just in Homewood and Birmingham.  Think about the smallest thing you could do.  Perhaps that person that you pass by on the street doesn’t know where the neighboring shelter is, where they could get a hot meal and a bed for the night.  Certainly, the root causes of these situations need to be addressed by the community-at-large (and with the current economic meltdown, we’re likely to see more Kathys in the future), but even a small gesture – a kind word, a warm cup – can go a long way, year ’round.

Updates on Kathy’s situation will be forthcoming as I get them.

If you would like to contact Kim with regard to Kathy’s specific situation, please e-mail me at spitballarmy(at)aol(dot)com.  I will forward your note to her.

Fred O.

Fred Child has posted his favorite classical CDs of the past year at the NPR website, but don’t expect a scroll filled with the latest, greatest recordings of Mozart, Beethoven or Bach.  All right, there is a disc of Mozart and Beethoven violin concertos, but the majority of Child’s selections fill a niche where the boundaries between classically-trained virtuosity, international rhythms, jazz and pop music blur.

Generous audio clips are available for sampling of each of the ten discs chosen, which will come in handy if, like me, you are curious what a classical trombone concerto might sound like.  I left the page wanting to hear more of two of Child’s picks: gambist Jordi Savall’s Invocation a la Nuit and Marc-Andre Hamelin’s In a State of Jazz.  Amazon Wish List, here I come!

People of a certain age will tell you that they remember exactly where they were when they heard the news that President Kennedy had been shot.  I was only three years old then, but I do remember where I was when I heard about John Lennon.

I had just emerged from the bathroom in the lower level of the suite I shared with my housemates.  It was junior year, college.  One of my roommates was coming down the stairs with a friend, having just gotten out of a class.  They were speaking quickly.  They had seen a woman in Harvard Square with a big cardboard sign, hastily painted with John Lennon’s name and his birth and death years.  What is this, a joke? I asked.  We went back upstairs to check for news on the television set, thinking how randomly odd this was, if it were true.

That was 28 years ago.  These days, it seems that John’s music and influence are as present as they ever were, even eclipsing some of his musical idols such as Chuck Berry, Gene Vincent and Buddy Holly.

“Not Fade Away,” indeed.

And here is a wonderful video clip of John in the studio, recording “Oh My Love,” with my usual favorite Beatle, George Harrison (we share a birthday), giving an assist on guitar.