Notable quote from Jessica Bruder’s “Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century”
It was fitting that I read Nomadland before terminating six years and five months of a “Homeless by Choice” lifestyle. The book is a well-written account of the fringe members of American society who consider themselves to be “Houseless” although not homeless. Their domiciles are mobile. Ms. Bruder’s real life characters reside in vans, sedans, pick-up trucks and RVs. The author pens a not-so-glowing version of the stigma of the single man in the white van. Her description rates a Grand Slam. I know, I blogged about this one month prior to her book’s publication.
The houseless subjects in Nomadland, had all fallen off the main grid of normal society. Their lifestyle choice was forced upon them. They had no other options. Simply put, they had zilch money for a mortgage or rent. (One interviewee had her $40 life savings in her pocket.) The reasons for their economic plight were many: divorce, job loss, the Great Recession or drug/alcohol abuse. Many had just made bad choices. They “zigged” when they should have “zagged.” Somehow they survived by taking seasonal gigs at Amazon warehouses, sugar beet factories and being campground hosts. I wasn’t envying them.
The 100 Watt bulb glaring difference between me and them is this. I have money. I can afford to pay rent or a mortgage. I don’t have to eat a steady diet of hotdogs on Wonder Bread. As I’ve said to many people, “I’m not destitute. I just look and act like I am!” Most of my fellow Americans didn’t believe me. I became adept at ignoring the incoming hairy eyeball looks.
It was in the Southwest Spring of 2018, when my lifestyle choice began to, I’ll say it, piss me off. It was a colder, windier and rainier/snowier spring than normal. Veteran NPS Rangers at Death Valley National Park said the temperatures were running 10-15 degrees lower than usual. In the campgrounds my neighbors RV heaters were humming throughout the night. I huddled under four blankets.
My season of discontent moment came at Panamint Springs, CA. I had just returned from a pleasant amble to a few old mining sites. I was barely in Barley the Van’s sliding door when another cold front sprinted in. Wind, rain then hail slammed into the Van. I made a Lipton’s Cup a Soup to alleviate the sudden chill. Outside conditions hadn’t improved by the time I finished slurping the chemical concoction. “Maybe I should just go home”, I thought Oh yeah, I don’t have a home. Then I shouted into my 66 square feet of living space. “This sucks!” Soon thereafter, I began to weep.
It was then, I knew, I was ready for my own address. I wanted to be a “real person” once again.
I warned you this day was coming!
Last photo: Proof of my entry into adulthood. House and van keys. A Durango Library card and a set of hearing aids. If I like you, I’ll stick them in.
Next post! A Jackie Kennedy look at the Town House.
Cheers from Durango, CO,
Jeff
Coming of age 😘
ReplyDeleteThat smile tells it all! Happy domesticity.
ReplyDelete