Tony Ford

   He stared into the mirror of the hotel bathroom.  The gaunt stubble faced man looking back at him shocked him. He asked himself how he had gotten to this point. He remembered the decision that he had made several months before.
   Chris Daynes believed this was the strangest decision he had ever made. It was a decision that had to be made, if he was ever was going to make sense of his life. He had made good money from a career as a financial manager, yet in those thirty some odd years, he never felt truly fulfilled. He never felt that he was appreciated or even mattered. Now close to the end of his career, other questions were surfacing. Where would he be in his sixties in the business world?  He questioned his relationships with his friends, who were all drifting away into the eddies of their own existences.  His health had begun to become a factor. On the lighter side, sure he could make that three mile run, but needed the rest of the day to recuperate. Tougher still was his knowledge of the big “C”, which had taken several family members. Those genetics were at work in his body, like a time bomb. He was looking for a way to get some answers and there in front of that mirror, he was about to go looking for them.
   He thought back to how this all got started. Four months prior, he had gone to one of his daughter’s graduations in Portland, Oregon. He had never been to the city and was looking forward to it. During the trip as he walked the city, especially the downtown part, he noticed an abnormally high number of homeless people. 
On the flight back, listening to his favorite music on his headphones, his mind wandered back to that dark place of dissatisfaction with his life. He took off the headphones and allowed the darkness to overtake him at 20,000 feet. 
   All of a sudden a thought hit him like surface-to-air missile slamming into the plane. 

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   “Reality is raw!”

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   He thought of “the society” of homeless people in Portland. Normal people called them “bums”. Those “bums” knew what reality was. They faced it daily and it was as raw as it got.
  For three months he would occasionally think of the plan. He would become a “bum” in Portland. He wouldn’t tell anyone. A week before his flight, he bought some baggy old clothes from the Thrift Store. He ran them through the dirt for effect. He then placed his smelliest tennis shoes in plastic bag and left them for the trip. Telling his friends and co-workers he always wanted to grow a beard, he went unshaven for a week. Every day he ate less and less. The day arrived and before he knew it he was standing in front of a hotel in Portland. He checked in and fell into bed exhausted, setting the alarm for three a.m.

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   “So that’s how I wound up here in this bathroom!”

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   He was standing there, thinking about what was the next step. He hadn’t put much thought into the plan. His life had rushed by so fast. That probably was part of the reason for his “not getting what it’s all about”. All he knew was that the funky smell was coming from him and he was tired. He’d only slept a few hours. He did have one overpowering thought.

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   “It’s time to experience life for real!”

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   Grabbing his wallet, he pulled an ID out, stuck it in his pocket.  Out in the hallway, it was deserted. It was now 4 a.m. He left by the side entrance.
   Chris never remembered four a.m. being so dark. Maybe because of how deserted it was contributed to that. He also felt that it was colder that he had thought. It was significantly colder. This would be the first of many “unpleasant sensations”

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    “Which direction am I headed?”

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   He thought that it really didn’t matter, except maybe towards those tall buildings downtown. The new reality was that decisions were much simpler.
   After twenty or so blocks, he looked up, and the buildings seemed farther away. That’s not fair he thought. Exhausted, he looked for an alleyway to get out of the wind and rest a bit. He was excited to find a big cardboard box and thought of it like a gift. 

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   “I’ll rest here for a minute!”

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   He was awakened by shouts and wondered what in the hell was someone yelling so loud about. He realized that the person was yelling at him to get up and out of his alley. The term being used was “no good bum”.

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   “I guess I’m officially in the “society”!

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   After too much walking he finally reached downtown. It was still dark, so again he looked for a place to rest. He had learned the basics- walk then rest.  In a secluded alley he stopped.

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   “What the hell is that smell?”

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   It smelled sort of like the inside of a restaurant’s trash bin. He looked in the direction of the smell and saw a form that he could barely make out.

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   “Oh my God, it’s ALIVE!”

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   The form moved and even spoke, if that’s what you would call the slurred words asking Chris if he had “sumtin to drink”. When Chris said no, the form rolled over and began snoring loudly almost immediately. So much for his first encounter with the society.
   As he rose to leave he noticed the “ache”. It wasn’t just an ache in one place. He ached all over.  He thought to himself, my God how would he live like this all the time, it had only been three hours.
   Now that he was tuned into the society, he saw more and more of them. They are typically in groups of two, almost like partners. There were two on a corner in front of a coffee shop. He walked up to them and asked if he could stand there with them. With a coordinated look of hostility, they told him to move on from “their corner”. Chris now learned about the society’s territory concept.
   As he wandered on alone, he became acutely aware of his hunger. His stomach was growling like a lion. A lion that wouldn’t get fed anytime soon and it was angry. The last time he drank anything, it was at the sink at 2 a.m., and that was a swallow. The last time he ate was the turkey sandwich in the airport the prior night. He glanced out the corner of his eye and saw someone rummaging in a fast food trash bin. The next thing he saw was a manager yelling and chasing the rummager and him down the street. Why in the world would someone yell and chase someone over garbage!

 Several blocks away Chris stopped, out of breath and utterly exhausted. He looked up and there was the guy who had been rummaging in the trash bin. Tommy was his name. No one gives out last names. They are not important in the society. First names are an example of minimalist needs. Tommy beckoned Chris to follow him to a place that’s safe.
   Hidden behind a grove of trees, off the interstate was a camp. It was the society camp. Blankets, grocery carts, cardboard boxes were seemingly strewn all about. They were actually in a specific order. Everyone had their place. Everyone has their space.
   Tommy handed Chris a half-eaten burger and some fries. An old plastic liter bottle full of water provided drink. This was better than that filet and wine I had two weeks ago Chris thought. Tommy asked Chris if he wanted to be his new partner since his old one got stabbed last week.
   Chris noticed that all comments were short. They were all followed by a silence. Chris thought that the silence represented sadness. It could be the “silence of sadness” or the “sadness of silence.” It worked either way. In the society, both speaker and listener bonded in that time.
   Through the night he listened to stories of remarkable patience, acceptance, generosity, even heroism. He thought to himself,“They give out of abject poverty, they have hope in a hopeless condition, they accept a world that is intolerant!”

   Chris awoke early from under his cardboard box. It was pitch black, but he clearly saw his “illuminated path”. In his mind he saw two words. 

   “Gratitude and Humility”

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   He would use those as his walking sticks on his path of happiness. He rose, put a hand on the shoulder of sleeping Tommy. He was sad, knowing Tommy would wake to be “partner less” again. Chris began walking, not knowing in which direction his hotel was. 

   It didn’t matter because he knew the direction he would now take in his life-a direction guided by Humility and Gratitude.