NORMAN'S SAGA CONTINUED...

I finally learned the rest of the story of how Norman returned to his house when he got kicked out of the Sacramento Greyhound Bus station. You've seen how scruffy he looks with his wild white hair. When he was first homeless, he worked as a department store Santa. His only record at that time was drunk driving. They even gave him a ticket for drunk driving on a bike.

Family  members always tried to convince him it would be much easier if he would  cut his  hair and beard. His answer was always, "Jesus was a carpenter and Jesus had long hair and a beard." The picture above is his wedding photo from 1972. His ex-wife and he remain friendly.  Mostly, she prints out stuff on her computer for him  and mails it to him. He is an inveterate letter writer, always about politics.

I stated in my blog yesterday:
He sizzles about the  injustice of this,  (in his mind) probably sipping on a pint, and when he gets to Sacramento he tells them, I don’t have the money. He argues he paid round trip he is entitled to a round trip. Finally, after a shouting match, he walks somewhere nearby, he buys more drink. Just before the bus is set to leave, he changes his mind and goes back to the station master and prepares to pay for the ticket but he warns them they will hear from his attorney, etc. etc.

I've seen him drunk so many times, I figured he was probably sipping on a pint. There was no place within walking distance to buy booze. So, not true. When he presented his ticket, he knew it was up to the driver to let him on or not. She chose not, but also confiscated his ticket and receipt and refused to give it back to him.  Then the shouting match. He stormed out and went back in later to buy the ticket he originally told them he didn't have the money for. He reached in his pack, and two security people immediately grabbed him. He carries a pack with a strap like a purse. Of course he didn't have a weapon, which didn't matter to the security people. They kicked him out of the station and warned him not to come back or they would call the police.

This is Norman when he worked a fishing boat in Alaska for a couple of years.

He bought a ticket on a local bus that pulled into the station. It took him to Sacramento City Center. He spent the night in a city park. He said it was too cold to sleep, he basically just shivered all night trying to keep warm. In the morning a woman in an electric wheel chair  found him and asked what happened? It turned out  she was stranded in Sacramento as well. She called Crystal Jordan, a social services person who is helping her. Crystal called Greyhound and reported what they had done to Norman. Then she bought him a bus ticket on a different line to San Francisco, and a Bart ticket to San Leandro. He walked home from there. He promised to pay her back for the tickets. Knowing Norman, he will do it.


Pall bearers at my Dad's funeral. From left, my nephew Tom, Norman, my husband in back, younger brother Clark, cousin Bob far right.

Norman apologized for making me worry. I learned from my house mate Karen, who was a bus driver for 17 years, that homeless people will buy a ticket on a bus to keep warm and just keep taking the bus as long as they can. That is most likely why the ticketing agent wouldn't honor his ticket or give it back to him.

The security guards searched his pack. Because he doesn't drive, he has no printed I.D. Thus, to them, he is homeless even though he told them his address. He had no weapon, but I can understand why they might think so when they see a scruffy guy like him, reaching in his pack.

He lives in  a house, which has a shower. He bought  a washer, dryer, television set, refrigerator, bed and land line phone.  He has never been on welfare, nor used food stamps. Technically, right now, he is not homeless. Obviously, being scruffy with a drinking problem can negatively decide your fate. I've stated he has mental problems,  but it wasn't always so. That happened after a serious accident.
At this point, I doubt cutting his hair and improving his  appearance would do much good.

I meant to blog this morning on Privatization of Prisons. They were supposed to save money, but it is more costly to keep a person in a private prison than a State, Federal or County operated  facility. When I worked in the jail, business people hated it that prisoners worked and helped with their own expenses. They fought and won. Thus, prisoners were only allowed to make license plates for the state in California.  Now, privatized prisons pay workers 22 cents an hour for labor. They can make chicken nuggets for schools and all kinds of products that take away jobs from the private sector.  Furthermore, they fight to keep people in jail, support programs that incarcerate their "labor force" longer. They were bankrolling the Three Strikes law in California, and New York, and other laws that keep people in prison longer through ALEC . Private prisons now control the parole system. They have few checks and balances for how they run things and how much food is fed to each prisoner. There have been some recorded abuses. They cannot compare recidivism rates because the private warden can cherry pick his releases for statistics. Private Prisons are a bad deal for all of us.

WHAT IT COSTS TO DEAL WITH THE HOMELESS.

On Thursday,  I took my homeless brother to see our sister who is receiving treatment for brain cancer.  For the last three years, he got  himself onto Amtrak and my  brother Bill  picked him up at the station and he stayed  with me for a week or so,  right after Christmas.

This time, he decides  he would take a bus to Roseville, I’d meet him there, take him to visit her and he’d return the same day. I couldn’t talk him out of it. Realize he is mentally ill, alcoholic, non-violent, he’s had a stroke and can only walk about two or three blocks, then he has to sit down.  He had a huge tumor on his head removed, that is now growing back. He is very intelligent and not quite impaired enough to be committed to an institution.
 Technically, he is no longer homeless. He now has a home he maintains for a property owner for permission to live there, for how long it will last is  anybody’s  guess.  He has been homeless for 17 years, but for 14 of those years, he worked for several different guys off and on. They were willing to put up with the drinking, for cheap labor, under minimum wage, but enough for him to buy food and drink. His skills were valuable enough for them to bail him out when he’d get arrested for drunkenness. Between times, he lived in the bushes, or under freeway overpasses, in a canyon by a river and so on.

Here is what happens to a guy like this.  He buys a round-trip ticket. He gets confused and arrives at the station a day early on the 9th.  He calls me on his cheapie cell phone, just a press of the button.  I tell him, go back home which is somewhere in Oakland,   and I’ll pay for a second ticket for you to arrive on the 10th. He declines and says, I’ll stay here. He has no extra clothing, toothbrush, or anything more than the clothing he is wearing. He buys his “drink” and sits on a bus bench and gets a ticket from a Roseville cop for drinking in public. I don’t know why they didn’t haul him in.  He borrowed a sleeping bag from a nearby hostel in Roseville near the bus station and slept out behind a fast food restaurant with his six pack of beer or pint of vodka,  and made it through the night.
I arrived on the 10th to pick him up, as planned. He is still pretty clean. He bought  breath mints in place of a toothbrush. He had returned the sleeping bag.


After a very pleasant visit, I drop him off at the bus station at 2:30. His bus doesn’t leave until 5:00. When he gets on the bus, the driver tells him:  “This ticket is for yesterday, you’ll have to buy a new one, but the  Roseville station is closed. We have a 40 minute layover in Sacramento, you can buy a ticket there.”
He sizzles about the  injustice of this,  (in his mind) probably sipping on a pint, and when he gets to Sacramento he tells them, I don’t have the money. He argues he paid round trip he is entitled to a round trip. Finally, after a shouting match, he walks somewhere nearby, he buys more drink. Just before the bus is set to leave,  he changes his mind and goes back to the station master and prepares to pay for the ticket but he warns them they will hear from his attorney, etc. etc.

 He is now drunk and foul mouthed is my guess. He has never been violent, according to his long rap sheet.  The station master refuses to sell him  the ticket and they kick him out of the station. He calls me to keep me posted and claims it is because he sinned and lied to the stationmaster about not having the money. He is a “Jesus Freak” and  practically knows the bible by heart.

Of course, I know they kicked him out  because he is drunk and obnoxious. He can’t go very far. He has to urinate and sleep somewhere. He will certainly be hungry.  I realize his cell phone will soon lose battery power. He has no place to charge it. He has no extra clothing with him. It is a cold night. He doesn’t ask for me to come and get him, he just wants to tell me what happened. I  wouldn’t go anyway, because you can’t reason with a mentally impaired drunk. I’m hoping by morning,  he hasn’t been  attacked by young punks, or stabbed and left to die in the bushes, and that he has enough money left to get a ticket home.

He didn’t get home. His cell phone is by this time dead.  He doesn’t know my number by memory, or anyone else’s in the family, only from the cell. His funds are pretty limited. He doesn’t know how to program an answering machine for his land line. He hates cops because he has been arrested so many times.  The system cannot take into account that he is impaired. In Oakland,  he has been knocked over by street punks, and his bicycle stolen. The kid was arrested, Norman went to court, got his bike back plus restitution. He wrote the boy a letter of forgiveness. He has been victimized by gangs who steal what meagre funds he has. All very typical.

He worked all of his life as a very competent carpenter. He should be entitled to his carpenter’s pension, but they require you to work a certain number of quarters during the year you are entitled to retire, which he did not, so his funds,  that he contributed to all of his working years, are out of reach to him.

When he first got his social security, he presented himself to a trailer park where a for rent sign board stood at the entrance. He doesn’t shave or get haircuts. He is scruffy looking. He wasn’t very clean at that point.  He asks about the rental and the woman immediately, in his presence, takes down the sign board and says, “Sorry, we are full.”

My last call to his house was at 8:30 last night.   I called again at 4 a.m. this morning and he told me he returned home at 9:30 p.m. lst night.  I don’t know how he got there, nor what happened to him. He said it was a long story and he’ll call me later today.  I worry about him when he is disconnected to familiar territory.
I think what a waste of human potential. There was a time when he was a valued citizen of society. He owned a 280 acre farm, and a pizza parlor in South Dakota. His clinical depression and alcoholism spiraled out of control.   It is now too late. He will never be anything but a sober, polite, kindly person during the day preaching the word of Jesus.  And a mentally impaired, foul mouthed drunk after 4 P.M.
Of course, he created his own problems.  At one time family members and friends tried to help him before it got this bad. But, he wore us out too. We refused to enable him and he doesn’t expect it. We had no contact with him for about 12 years. But, for those of you who think he doesn’t deserve help and we should have no social programs to help people like Norman, studies show that helping would be cheaper than not helping. Check out this link, if you are interested. The information was gleaned from several responsible sources if you read to the bottom of the page.
http://www.endhomelessness.org/pages/cost_of_homelessness

A few paragraphs from their web page.
The cost of homelessness can be quite high. Hospitalization, medical treatment, incarceration, police intervention, and emergency shelter expenses can add up quickly, making homelessness surprisingly expensive for municipalities and taxpayers.
As an example, physician and health care expert Michael Siegel found that the average cost to cure an alcohol-related illness is approximately $10,660. Another study found that the average cost to California hospitals of treating a substance abuser is about $8,360 for those in treatment, and $14,740 for those who are not in treatment.
People who are homeless spend more time in jail or prison, which is tremendously costly to the state and locality. Often, time served is a result of laws specifically targeting the homeless population, including regulations against loitering, sleeping in cars, and begging.

• According to a University of Texas two-year survey of homeless individuals, each person cost the taxpayers $14,480 per year, primarily for overnight jail.
• A typical cost of a prison bed in a state or federal prison is $20,000 per year.

Norman doesn’t panhandle, but, I’ve been accosted by panhandlers and find it scary and uncomfortable. I feel threatened as I’m sure people feel threatened by Norman, just looking at him.
Now, it is unlikely Norman  would submit to being sheltered by the state or city. He too much enjoys going to court and tweaking with the system. He has an excellent understanding of the law. He spent a lot of time in the library studying the law whenever he came up against the system. He  usually  refuses a public defender and serves as his own attorney when he is arrested.   He  is not afraid of staying in jail. He will never plead or accept probation. He insists on a trial, which he always loses. But, the cost to the taxpayers for this crap is enormous. He simply serves his expensive time.

A NIP OF FALL IN THE AIR.

It was chilly and I could smell fall in the air. I worked outside feeling grateful I could work outside. That was not the case last year. I marveled at the beauty of my Japanese maple turning color but I didn't get out until it was nearly dark to take a picture. But, it is another go fishing day for me anyway. Drive to Roseville to take my Homeless brother to see our sister.

Also a late picture of my woodpile.

It will be another go fishing day for me tomorrow because I will  take my housemate to the hospital for a minor surgical procedure. While waiting I'll visit an old friend who had a break-in where all the food was stolen from the refrigerator and freezer. Nothing else was taken. The food banks are empty, in Tuolumne County, I'm told. She is 87 years old.  I kind of sizzle inside when I hear what a third world country we are turning into.  I'm bringing food with me.

On that subject, my son had his mower and gas can stolen from his yard when he left his house for a brief errand. Someone wants to work.

THE GREATEST COUNTRY ON EARTH?

Yesterday, I worked on the computer most of the day. Busy, busy describes my days when I return home from traveling.  And, a mental promise to off load "stuff" I've been keeping. Such small considerations compared to the mess going on in the bigger world out there.  I get constant  emails to donate to this or that. Save the elephants, the U.S. has just crushed Ivory so it can never be used in trade. Exotic bird smuggling, rhino's poached for their horns are nearly extinct, the list goes on and on. But, today in my email , from a retired college professor friend, I received a link to a short video called the Most Honest Three Minutes Of Television. Here is the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16K6m3Ua2nw

And, in the news, the salmonella outbreak can't be addressed by a closed government.

And this:


Are we in a mess?  Yes.

A smidgeon of good news:



We can't afford to have a government shutdown.

GOING THE DISTANCE.

Yesterday, my daughter and I picked up my sister and took her out to lunch. She is showing pink spots on her scalp where her hair is falling out. She is feeling some loss of energy and tires more easily.  She is in her third week of radiation. Four more days to go.
She nor I are very practiced at chopsticks, so I told her this was a test. She'd better be able to pick up the ginger or we wouldn't let her eat the rest of her meal. She passed the test.

It was a beautiful day, and she managed to walk quite a bit around the mall. I was impressed and pleased. She has been through a lot and has a walker, but she strives not to use it. I told her I won't hold your arm and treat you like an old lady. She said, "But, I am an old lady."  I told her I'd walk close enough so that she could grab me if she felt unsteady.

We went for gellato after our Japanese lunch, and got into story telling on our parents who aren't here to defend themselves. "Remember at Uncle George's wedding, when dad got soused and blitz danced everyone around the house?" I brought her a manuscript I had typed up after my visit to the Upper Peninsula and collaborated with Dawn and my oldest brother about the many places we had lived. Too many. Dawn attended 13 different schools while growing up.

When we returned to my daughter's house, Theo was arranging his food bank stuff. The boys are doing a community service project which is required of them for their upcoming test to reach Black Belt in Karate. Theo prepared a brochure, and canvassed one section of his street for donations. He practiced his spiel on his mom who would come to the door like an angry witch or a grumpy old man, until they giggled too much to continue. Now when he asks for a donation he has to concentrate on being serious. I guess it worked. He still has more territory to cover.

Owen chose to pick up garbage along a section of creek where the city hosts a day camp. His first sweep netted two full garbage bags of junk. He has the opposite bank to clean before he is done with his project.

The spirit of volunteering,  community service and physical fitness is an important thing to teach children, my oldest daughter believes. She and Austin volunteered at the Iron World Championships in Las Vegas. He worked the bike booth and handed out water, Gatorade, gelatin cups, and so on. The Triathlon is a swimming event, a run and a bicycle ride.

Then Austin participated in the IronKids event, which is a 4K run. Pretty nifty.

GONE FISHING.

In 1982, I had a small grocery store in Murphys. Next to me was a character everyone called Jack The Barber. Some days, he’d come in before opening time and put a sign on his door. Gone Fishing. Above is my gone fishing sign.
I have to leave early for a long drive to meet with my youngest daughter, then drive to visit my sister who is having her radiation treatments for brain cancer. Long day, too busy to blog this morning.

BRILLIANT FUTURE.

Yesterday, I had three leaning trees cut down and cut up for firewood. My worker will haul a trailer load of brush away on Monday. I meant to take a picture of my beautiful wood pile but I was busy with other things. Finally getting to the bottom of my mail for one.
And designing a house that my son will build to replace my flooded mobile in Oregon next spring was the other.  The plan has to be submitted to the county within two weeks, and it must fit in the same space as the mobile which is very restricting at 14 feet wide. I have to mentally live in it to make it work for me. One bathroom is so small, I struggled with it. I had one time seen a toilet with a sink on top of it. I wished I could find something like it. When voila', into my email comes this Brilliant Future.



Now this design takes up way more room than I could spare, and it is ugly. The one I saw was right on top of the toilet tank. I wish I knew where it came from. I'll look on the internet in the coming months and maybe have it figured out by next spring. But, Brilliant Future has many other great ideas.

Foldable hiking shoes. Great for travelers or limited space like the Motor Home.



Packing your bike so you can ride part of the way.



Solar charging station for electric cars that are proliferating everywhere.



A key lock you can use in the dark if you forget to leave the light on. Or, if you come home drunk, says the maker.



I don't know about this wearable mouse. But, for people who spend all day on a computer, it might be just the thing.



This was my favorite. A solar tent. You can actually read when the sun goes down. Hey, super. What will they come up with next?

WHY DO WE CELEBRATE OUR AGE?

In 1982, when I first met Paul Moeller, I gave him a cat my daughter hauled home from a goat show. He didn't want to take the cat without his wife seeing it first, but he did. Then he kept me informed and sent pictures of the cat's antics for the rest of its life. He lost his wife two years ago, and at lunch yesterday, he told me, "I reach for Martha's hand each morning before I'm fully awake. But our cat likes to sleep where she slept and I touch fur instead. It comforts me."

In 1983, he talked me into joining a Public Access group. Happiness for Paul is producing video of what goes on in the community. He loves to find raw talent, put a camera in someones hands and send them out to do video with minimal instruction. Learning comes later. I reluctantly at first, and then enthusiastically helped him produce around 80 videos. Paul has done thousands, so my part was very small.

Paul has suffered a stroke, a car accident, a broken femur and he can no longer drive. He is still happiest when producing videos for the Public, so he hires a driver to take him to the shoot, and at 86 years old, he still produces video. His driver is my housemate, Karen.
I learned a great deal from this man, and I treasure him as one of my best friends. It doesn't take much to realize that life is a journey and keeping active, no matter how hard, is what we do to make it all worthwhile.

Later in the evening, Karen and I drove to the Pizza Factory and joined my two brothers to celebrate my birthday. Theresa and Clark, me, Bill and Karen.

The same photo with Jan.  Some friends are as much a part of the family as family.  I'm fortunate to have three brothers out of five still living. So, we count our blessings and say, life is good, and then we make it so. Stay as healthy as we can, do for others, overcome adversity, smile and be happy.

ONE OF THOSE DAYS..

I noticed huge water bills when I returned home and found a spongy bog out near the orchard. Couldn’t find the leak.

Hired a guy to dig up the pipe. He dug two feet deep in a three-foot cross section where the pipe should have been.

He finally made a witching wand out of coat hangers. It was very close. Two hours later, I have no leak. Yay!

Meanwhile, I spent most of the day and the day before putting up from left to right, plum sauce apple plum sauce, apple sauce, in quarts and pints. I don’t buy jars and lids, I recycle and save jars and lids. (Only useable for fruits and tomatoes. No meats or non acid veggies.)  I froze 8 quarts of apples and plums for a rainy day. It was a long day
Then, this morning, I researched George Soros after getting a challenge from reader Papa, about my blog on Leadership vs. Blackmail. If you’d like to see my answer, you can look at my blog of two days ago. I would like to reiterate that most of my friends are Republicans, they just aren’t the EXTREME type I’ve been so critical of.
Then, being technically challenged, I love getting Gizmag in my email. What a fantastic adventure it is to see what innovative people from all over the world are doing to make this world more fascinating or worse, for all I know. Have a look at this link:

http://www.gizmag.com/top_stories/

While there, you might click on NSF Wallet, geekie inventions of all sorts for sale to people with deep pockets. I loved the $300 toothbrush.  Fun, fun, fun.

I’m having a friend stopping by for lunch. He is limited to when his driver can bring him to visit, and today is the day. And, I had to miss Jim’s friends from Washington because I left the motor home and flew home early. Bummer.

It is just the way it is.  Hi Ted, Larry, Keri, Debbie and gang, Jim and Joan. Next year for sure. Where is Shawn?

CONSTITUTION, PETITION, JOBS.

 I love this country and sometimes think we forget about the fundamental purpose of our government as outlined in the guiding principles of the Preamble to the United States Constitution. I’m going to Print that preamble. Sometimes we  need to refresh our memory.

  I’ve had comments about my rail against the government shutdown. Most of my friends are Republicans. I don’t hate them nor anybody else. Like many of you, I’d like to do something about the situation, so I did. I signed a petition stating the Congress should have to give up their pay during the government shutdown. If you agree, go to this address. Not that a petition can make it happen, but it sends a sharp message.

http://petitions.moveon.org/sign/no-barilla-pasta-for?id=-492306-LhMpGw&source=share_chain&fwd=1

Now, for the preamble:

We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

What a beautiful document our forefathers left us. Simple enough for a fifth grader to understand.

I also talked about jobs, and suggested an alternative view of the problems we face by watching the movie,  Heist. Who Stole The American Dream.  

The Millions  Of Jobs Group has put out a video about job creation that also gives an understandable presentation about job creation. You can view it at the following link:

https://youtube.googleapis.com/v/4FrGxO2Fn_M

Food for thought. And, now I must get back to my plums and apples.