Memorial DAy. and yes it is a memory

Waht you see is my very first desk and my first and only chester draws. Both of those items have been with me all of my life.

My sister and I moved the chester drawers into my mother's bedroom and I saw the burn marks. Those drawers have decals on them. On one side, you can see two of them. They are a kick boxing decals when I earned my Silver gloves for Savate which is french kick boxing. The other is a K Swiss decal that was sent to me when I received clothing from them as I was a ranked player and a well known tennis intructor and coach. The other side has a Warehouse sticker. Yes the warehouse record store. How many people remember when they first opened up and had their records piled up on the floor on La Cienega Ave. IT was during the late sixties and early 70's. My decal has a saying on it "Ecology or else".

When I got that decal I had just started smoking grass. The Vietnam War was at its peak. IT was 1970 and in that year more US Serviceman and women were killed than all of the other years combined. An horrendous amount of body bags.

Decades later and I started leaving burned pipes on the furniture. I will get the furniture redone. However when I saw it, I just looked at it, remembering the insanity of my life. I moved away further from all of that, letting go of things.
I gave some more stuff away and through things out. No need to hold on to them. No need of keeping the confused negative energy that they contained around me and burdening me, invisibly, but burdening me none the less.
As someone told me today, I am a work in progress. It is funny because it is so true. Every little thing makes a difference. Today I washed my clothes and folded them immediately. Sounds basic. IT is basic. However, I used to wash them, dry them and throw them on the bed because I had to get to a library to blog. Or I had to get to a computer to see about a job.

Perhaps I could have stayed in the room and organized things first. But I was not ready. I was not ready to start and complete something. It does not matter if you start and complete things that you enjoy. IT matters when you complete thoroughly the process that you do not enjoy. And yes, I say that because I could have been using the "need " to get to a computer as an excuse to stay stuck in the past. Staying stuck in a prison of behavior I do not know or postpone movement forward because I do not know what it is and I do not have to stretch for "peace" because I do not know where it is and do not want to search for it. That is when one is not ready. You are not remembering the past and learning from it. The past remains as your present and hinders ones progress toward the future.

So yes, I let go a little bit more. STep by step. And now I must get to work on time. ON time is the operable phrase. IT will be the thorough completion of a mornings work and it will get me further away from the past and closer towards where I am going.

Happy Memorial Day.

Tenacity

This morning, I see my mother again. I saw her on mother's day.

A great deal has happened since then. Pushing forward. Moving forward. Seeing her, feeling her provided me with the nourishment to push an endure. I


Tenacity is what it is called. It necessary to conquer so many things. It is necessary to move obstacles out of the way outside of oneself. It is necessary to move obstacles out of the way inside of oneself. Sometimes it is necessary to exercise the discipline of tenacity when patience is needed.

So much has happened since I last saw my mother. I continued to push forward, like Rocky Delgadillo told me to do when I first met him. I was overwhelmed with the changes but now I am managing the changes in my life better in order to move forward.

It is interesting that I saw my mother on mother's day. I have noticed that I have been surrounded by mothers and other women as of late. They have been there for me. They were tenacious in their support and patience. They have been and are tenacious in their belief in me.

I am lucky to have them in my life. Their friendships have shown me what true loyalty is. So I go to see my mother and I once again get a chance to get that feeling of belonging that is so important and that I missed for so long.

Everything is pointing to an end of this episode in my life. It has been horrendous, grueling, and challenging in every thing I have ever known. but as a woman who has known me for a long time told me, everything that I have gone through is relected in tremendous growth. I hope that is the case.

I feel it. I am in the process of harnessing this feeling, along with the energy that I receive so unselfishly from my friends, and manage the navigation out of this storm of an episode in my life. The more I receive the support, the more I marvel at the amazing strength and power that women possess. The have a tenacity that is so direct and efficient and I am learning from them every day. I always knew how smart they were but now I understand how amazing they are. They have been navigating me out of this and towards something during this whole time.

I see the calm waters in the distance. I know they are there now.
I will continue with unwavering tenacity to reach them.

It is time to go see my mother. She needs me and I need her.

Anger

It is about 8:30 in the morning on Friday, May 23.

It is quiet as I sit in the room and begin this post to you. It has been a long time since I blogged in the morning. When I first started blogging, I was relentless in getting to Chrysalis each morning at 8am. I wanted to make sure I was able to secure a computer. There was one on the second floor where I live but it was erratic and would cut off unexpectedly. I mentioned many times how I had to repeat a posting several times. I was determined that nothing was going to stop me.

At Chrysalis, in the morning, coffee is made available for the clients and people who are in the office. Many of the people are homeless and drink the coffee to keep warm and seek a respite from the streets. Everyone stands in a line to sign their name to avail themselves of the services. Invariably someone does not want to follow the rules and when is called back to stand in the line instead of letting him proceed to the coffee, he starts yelling and cursing the staff.

I experienced a lot of anger as a woman was so frustrated that something happened to her possessions where I work. People in this neighborhood are extremely frustrated and angry. They strike out at anything or anybody. Anger fills the air.

Last night two men walked into the place where I work with ugly black eyes. One of them had his arm in a sling. I saw two or three other men with new casts on their arms, a trophy from fighting. Casts on arms are common as men brake their hands all of the time from fighting or just hitting walls out of frustration.

I enjoy sitting here and blogging because it lets me get away from the anger. I am learning how being around this much anger is stressful.

Two nights ago, a man tells a seven month pregnant woman that he will slit her throat if she does not follow his orders. Five minutes later he speaks to her softly, asking her if she wants something to eat. I look at it in total bewilderment.

My new computer affords me the opportunity to stay away from all of that as much as possible and go inward to hear my heartbeat. It fascinates to hear what it is telling me.

Many times I have said how much Skid Row is a mirror of our society. People here want to feel a part of something. People here have health issues. Our nation has health issues. People in Skid Row are angry. People in the country are angry.
The sources of the anger may differ but it is burried within us and more is piled on every day.

Even Walter Moseley, an accomplished novelist, discussed his anger in his instruction book about writing a novel. He said that each day he becomes angry and if rules where not in place, he would express his anger or act upon it. Fortunately, he said, the laws are a deterrent because he does not want his anger to cost him his freedom.

I worry about our anger. Anger is another description for frustration or fear.
It gets stored up inside of us and many times is not released in a healthy way or it is triggered by something that would not seem to be associated with it or have the power to ignite behavior to express it.

Every day I see it and wonder about it and its crippling effects on us. I believe it has the power to destroy us, like nuclear bomb or terrorist attack.

It is not only dangerous in Skid Row, it is dangerous in otherwise peaceful environments where it springs up unexpectedly--places like Columbine where our teenagers are acting out to being bullied or from other societal malady or Virginia Tech where a person has even more "freedom" to express his anger destructively because he has more latitude, including lenient gun control laws.

It frightens me that there is so much hidden anger amongst us. The visible anger is bad enough. It is ugly. Very ugly. However the more someone yells and screams, I surmise that the person is less likely to pull a trigger or stab someone with a knife.

I talked about Sammny yesterday. He is on one path. Not too long ago, I mentioned how Connie, a student at the STRIVE program overcame so much and has learned how to master some of the applications on the computer. She is very calm. She has found a a great deal of peace. She used to live in the streets, homeless for many years while in her crack addiction. She said she saw so much anger every day and that she swore she would get away from it. She found a way to insulate herself from it physically, and when she could not do that, she discovered how to not let it effect her new happy spirit.

Connie is graduating from the University of Skid Row today. She finished the STRIVE program yesterday and she is leaving and going to another state to live. I am happy for her. For a brief moment I felt she was leaving me behing in this anger but she has taught me not to look at it that way. Also I have had a great deal of experience with people moving on.

But this is different. Connie symbolizes a period in my life on Skid Row. I met her when she started her computer class and she was wondering if she would ever be able to learn any of it. I saw her burning desire to learn. I encouraged her to stay with it.

Connie told me I was a role model for people in the program and those words gave me the strength to keep searching for a job, to keep doing what I had to do to get through the court system. She told me to not be angry about things, just learn from them.

I believe I am. So I am happy for her. I am spending time in my room away from the anger. I am learning how to be gentle with myself as I dig deeper into myself and focusing on the requirements of self development.

It is funny that now I have a pen pal and my pen pal is a respite from this anger. Every morning I used to go to Chrsysalis and the public library to blog. Everyday for 9 months. Every day, my pen pal from Kazahkstan near mongolia, goes to a train station where she can use the old, slow computer so she can write me. She is so open and not scarred by the frustration and anger of people who have little to look forward to in the small towns in her region.

She has this pure, soft gentle spirit that wants to discover the world. I worry about her because she is exploring the world through the internet and in that part of the world there is so much anger and cruelty and the slave trade is a big industry. I do not want her to get tricked by someone on the internet.

But every morning I wake up and see her email to me. it is the first thing I see when I wake up. It is my respite from the anger that I hear outside on the streets of Skid Row. I picture her rushing to get on the computer with fierce determination. She explained her procedures but she did not need to because I am intimately familiar with it. I admire her determination to accomplish her goals.

Listening to her and her gentleness contrasts so much with the anger that I witness every day. I see it on the streets of Skid Row. I see it on the television news.
I see it in our elections. A good percentage of the time we are angry and elect people out of office more than we love the person that is going in to office.

We must find a way to conquer the anger. It is inside all of us. If we do not come up with answers, there will be more shootings and stabbings on the street, more drive by shootings is neighborhoods, more domestic violence, more wars, more Columbines and Virgina Techs.

So, at this time, I am enjoying my time away from all of the chaos that I see and I am able to study these questions on the internet. Anger, what is it?
What is associated with it? Where is it going to lead us as a society? How do we get rid of it?

Anger is a big ingredient in Skid Row. It needs to be illiminated. If the problem can be illiminated here and can be eradicated in our society.

Sammy

For days, I have been thinking about different people and what I have learned from and experienced with them while I have lived on Skid Row.

I walked out of the building after taking notes from my conversation with Aaron. Aaron is my boss and he said I could share his story. I walked across the street to get some coffee in the mom and pop community story when I saw Sammy. I really did not want to talk to him but he spotted me from the distance.

"Maybe I could get a favor returned to me now" was his opening gambit, a Skid Row sales strategy that has been in practice forever. You present an image to the person that what you did was incredibly valuable to extract a favor from the person. Invariably that strategy is used when the person is up to no good-when the person is on a mission- when the person is on a search and consume mission--for drugs.

I met Sammy at the Transition House. He moved in there a couple of months after I did. He worked in the kitchen and he had a job at Farmer Johns. He would stop by the Guard Shack every day on his way home. I was in there every day when he came by, writing on long hand my observations on Skid Row.

Sammy was a man on a mission. He was saving money and was going into the music business. He started out at the Union Rescue Mission and for some reason tranferred to the Transition House. He wore jeans and a T shirt that appeared to be bursting at the seams as Sammy was a body builder. Whenever you talked to Sammy, no matter where you were in the Transition House complex, he would suddenly drop to the floor and do twenty pushups. All day long, you would see him going up and down, up and down.

He was in great shape and he had the skin tone and bone structure of a man who was from East Africa--perhaps Kenya, Ethiopia or Somalia. He spoke about health and always carried with him a large plastic bag of fruit.

A few weeks ago I saw him and he looked like a ghost. He was walking up and down 5th street looking for somebody. Anybody who has seen that behavior knows what it means. It is not that he was looking for somebody. It is not that he was looking for drugs that made him stand out. It was that he had to see someone that owed him some drugs, a fellow user, or someone that pledged to advance him something that was disconcerting. It was clear that he slid down the hill of life quickly.

Today, his face was gaunt. His hands were black, fifty shades darker than his carmel complexion and he is a shell of his former body building self. He no longer carries large bags of fruit. He hand grip tightly the little plastic bags of crack, holding the bags so tight that it seems like his life depended on what was in his hands because he was not going to let go of it for anything in the world.

"When are you going to stop doing this Sammy? Aren't you tired of this?" were the first two sentences out of my mouth.

"Next week. On Monday."

"That is what you told me last time".

"But this time I have no choice. If I do not go to a program I will go to prison."
" Sammy, a program does not mean you will stop. You know that. A program can not make you stop doing drugs. You have to want to stop. "

" I know. I know. You are right. "

He was taking a folding chair out of its case, one of those that you purchase at a sporting goods store and take to the park or tailgating parties at football games.
He automatically assumed that I knew what was going on. I did not even notice what
he was doing until he told me I was right.

"What is the favor that you need? You want me to buy this thing?", I inquired, knowing the answer before he asked, but I asked anyway saving him the embarrassment of having to start his "cold call". His could not look at me in the eye and he kept polishing the metal leg stands so he could avoid looking me in the eyes.
I wondered If I should buy the chair. It was the exact replica of one I purchased before I came to Skid Row. I remember my mother sitting in it watching television with me in my bedroom one night.

It was new. It was five dollars and I had only five dollars in my wallet. I did not want to give the money to him as I knew he was going to purchase some drugs with it.

On the other hand, I am guilty of making that assumption. I am guilty of drawing that conclusion before I communicate and receive that information. I am wrong for doing that. What a dilemna. No matter how I look at it, I know I am enabling him to purchase the drugs.

Someone walked up to us on the sidewalk while I was deciding what to do.

Sammy was talking to him. He was sincere in what he was saying. " I am so proud of this guy. I am not a hater. When he and I were in the shelter together, I was in the position he is in now. I was in the position to help him and now he is in the postion to help me. I am glad for him. I do not hate him for it."

"Hating" and "hater" are terms created in the inner city that describes people who are jealous of others that are making progress in their lives and who appear to be doing more or having more than the person who is doing the hating. The person doing the "hating" usually makes negative comments about the person who is progressing.
The "hater" will backstab the "progressor".

It could be construed that he was trying to butter me up but I know he was not.
In the end, I went inside the store and took out the five one dollar bills that I had in my wallet and handed them to him.

I remembered the man who brought fruit to me while I sat in that guard shack every day. It was this time last year when I was struggling with being alone and detached from my family and everything that I knew. His daily gifts to me, along with his conversation kept me going.

He was one of the many men whom I met that took the time and extended to me the generosity of their hearts. They gave me the will to continue to fight my loneliness and broken heart for another day. One day at a time. One minute at a time. One second at a time.

I remember when Sammy moved out of the Transition House. I felt another person was leaving and moving onward in the world and that I was being left behind. I experienced that sickening, lonely feeling each time someone left. Yes, how can I forget those feelings. How could I deny Sammy? I could not. I would not. He knew it when he saw me.

His opening sales approach, " maybe I can get a favor returned", was forgotten.
Sammy did do something that was invaluable and even vital for me. You know, as I sit here, in the room, in the dark, at 4 in the morning, I remember a war movie where a man kept an orange wrapped up for two weeks. He was in a prisoner of war camp. Nobody had any fruit. Other POWs offered him cigarettes.
The key cigarette trader offered him a blank check of cigarettes so he could have the orange. However, the soldier would not yield. He kept the orange and, finally, one day, he set the orange on a table and everyone circled around him. They watched wided eyed as he unwrapped the priceless piece of fruit from the newspaper that encased it and removed the paper from the table. He pealed it slowly and divided the orange into sections. Everyone's mouth was drooling, and they all believed that that was the closest they would get to that fruit.


The soldier picked up the first slice and handed it to the closest man next to him. He continued that process until each man had a slice. A couple of the men assumed the soldier was going to eat the orange by himself. It was his to do what he wanted.

What the soldier did was an act from the heart. He gave from his heart. He did not have much but he gave each man more than a slice of an orange. He gave them the gift of hope.

Sammy, like many others, gave me that gift of hope, the first time he gave me that orange on a hot day in May of last year. The Transition House was MY version of a POW camp. Sammy was just like that soldier in the movie. He gave me the orange and something a great deal more. He gave me hope. He gave me the will to search inside of myself and understand the beauty of what was taking place.

Sammy walked in the store and as I stood in line to get my coffee, Sammy went to an aisle and grabbed a couple of items to eat. He pulled out 2 dollars and paid for them. Most people on a search and consume mission would not spend two dollars to buy food if they were selling goods. The five extra dollars that they would receive would go towards what was needed to get the drugs.

I had no right to draw conclusions without asking. I remember posting a blog about that very same concept. A friend of mine assumed that what he heard was true regarding certain things without talking to me at all. I have not spoken to him since I came down here and most likely never will.


I will debate later if I enabled Sammy to use drugs. I just know that he needed me. That is what I KNOW. I know I could not deny him. He played a part in my being here right now. Please be careful out there Sammy. Please go to that program. Please complete it so you do not have to go to prison. Please stop using cocaine.

Good night Sammy. I love you.

Shedding and DEVELOPING

I can not go to sleep. I have not slept in going on 36 hours. I dont know why. I just can not seem to close my eyes. I believe the excitement of being able to be so much more productive has gotten me so wound up.

I find that I am planning and learning ways to become more efficient and organized so that I can spend time not only searching for opportunities but studying the many things to learn out there.

Last night I read quite a lot about the International Space Station project and watched real live footage of the D Day landing. there is so much good information about things.

I guess it really comes down to devlopment. And slowly, I am letting go of the worry that something is going to happen to me to lose my job. There is a person who gives everyone a hard way to go with whom I work. He does not work for the company but he calls himself being the eyes and ears for the boss. He is actually causing a lot of problems. Every day we walk in and this guy makes up more and more stories about what is going on at work. It got so ludicrous that now we do not have to worry about our boss believing him. If he has not already, he will lose his credibility shortly.

Do you remember how I talked about abormalities. Well, it was abnormal for me to work at a job without worries, though I strived for it in the past. I am conditioned to worry. I am shedding that behavior pattern. One of the main reasons is that I am not doing any cocaine. Doing something like that tends to leave something on someone's mind. It is like always looking over one's shoulder.
You become used to it. It is a terrible feeling but you think it is normal. The more you get away from it, the more something else comes along that allows you to continue the behavior. Usually it is a compound behavior.

For instance. A man has promised to help me with the taxes. I took his direction immediately and filed for my taxes. At that time, a cluster of breakthroughs were occuring for me. I did as I was directed and put something behind me. Created a new behavior, filing taxes on time.

However, I still had years of back taxes to worry about. he told me to sign some papers. I saw all of the acronyms on the sheet and procrastinated. More things were piled on my plate and I kept shoving this little task aside. THAT, in and of itself, has always been an old habit. THAT creates the second habit, to worry about what has not been done.

EVen though it was halfway done, I did not complete it. I was not ready to give up the prison that I already knew to the new freedom that awaited me. I had something to worry about. A subtle illness that I have been battling for years. I was used to it.

However, I have had a primal drive for freedom for years, and the more I experience, the more I want. The freedom of blogging right here in the middle of the night to you is a beautiful feeling.

I actually thought I had mailed the papers in but realized after searching that they remained burried under a pile of other things.

Now, however, the drive for freedom is greater than the lack of will to break out of the prison of the known quantity. So I rush the papers to the gentleman.
I did not fill them in. I noticed that I signed them and that was enough. They could type them in and they would look more professional. that was probably what he wanted anyway. I just could not see it.

that type of scenario occurs every day. only most people do not recognize and change the behavior pattern. AS you progress, the affliction becomes more subtle and one would not recognize how embedded and transferable the behavior is and that it can manifest itself in many forms, like malignant cells.

I am so glad I took the time to monitor myself when I was triathlon training.
That is where I discovered all of this. That is why I was able to make the permanent breakthrough.

I just was not ready, to let go and move on and not worry about something that has been a source of worry for so long. However, I finally did let go.
=============

That is characteristic of this phase. I am dealing with the wreckage of my past and doing what it takes to put it behind me and free me in so many ways. I just realized that doing so frees up that space within so I can put something in there. something can be absorbed. maybe some knowledge. maybe a way of being. Maybe something can pop up that is not blocked that will be an idea or a solution for something.

The more I realize this, the more eager I am to clear the debris. It is interesting how the more that happens, the more I begin to move forward in ways of development.

I called this place the University of Skid Row. At universities, people learn. However, people also develop. It is a subtle but very distinct difference. I am finding that now I am beginning to clear enough debris, to naturally flow through to the development phases.

No matter how hard I tried, when I APPEARED to be normal and healthy, I could never progress. To much was on my mind and weighing me down. I was in invisible handcuffs.

It is clear that this blog is going to evolve from a man talking about what he learns and observes while struggling in Skid Row, but also how he evolves and develops, step by step while here. I said that Skid Row is a mirror of society.

Well I think that what I am experiencing must be the same path that others before me have experienced as they heal themselves from whatever to develop into whatever they want to develop into.


And that is what I find so important. HOw bad do you want it? That means so much. How bad do you really want whatever it is you say you want to not let anything stop you.

Discovering self and Downtown LA

I have waited a long time to do this. A very long time.
I started blogging on September 25,2007, the day I moved into the Marshall House. It took se veral attempts to complete a blog as the computer kept going on the blink. I had to get used to its personality. I blogged on the computer many times. Many times it took more than a few attempts to complete the blog. I could not upload pictures, I could only do text. Many times I would run over to the Transition House to upload a photo and finish with the text at the Marshall House orthe library.

My daily attempts to post my blog where like running an obstacle course, only I never knew from one day to the next if the obstacles were moved like they move the hole every day of a golf tournament. Don't get to comfortable with the environment you are playing in today because it will change tomorrow. If not then, then the day after that.

I wondered what it would feel like to blog in the middle of the night when I could hear my heart beat and nothing would distract me;No person arguing with another at the Central Library for the use of a computer; no rap music blasting from another terminal as the listener not only wanted to hear the music but the attention that he never received from whatever source that he deemed should have given it; no time deadline that would cut short the flow of creativity.

Editing my blog, are you kidding? I was happy just to get it posted. Many times I did not complete the title before the time deadlines at the library and it vanished in front of my eyes. Even if another computer was available, I had used the time alloted for each cardholder. I could not use it again to operate another computer until the next day.

Over the last few months, it became a contest. Determined to not let the time remaining impact greatly the detail of my writing, I focused harder to maintain the flow that at times was created.

I am not a writer of accomplishment but there are times when I felt that there was a certain fluidity that was coming effortessly. Those were precious times and times that needed to be absorbed for future duplication.

I walked marathon miles to do my blogs, at times feeling that I was not penetrating the surface of expression because I could not penetrate the depths of my soul and bring to the surface a well spring of descriptive presentation.

Due to changes in my circumstances, I am able to write at home. It has created many efficiencies and I am not yet accustomed to them though I shall work diligently to that end.

I have been so much on the go that I have not had the time to read other blogs. For the last few months I have kept my head down and just plunged away, trying to get to certain places, certain plateaus. Having accomplished a few things, I have a chance to learn how to manage my new situation.

It was great to see other blogs and hear the voices of people that I have met over the last few months, people that encouraged me to keep writing. It was also nice to see new names and read what their voices had to say.

In short, I felt a part of a community and as I said in the previous posting, feeling a part of something is a healthy and anchoring thing. I felt that warm feeling tonight and I could not rush home fast enough to capture the feeling.

I rode my bike down the street in a leisurely mode passing people who nodded to me along the way. I talked to the building manager outside of my building like a neighbor would talk to another in a small country town-not what you would expect on a Skid Row street.

I ran up the stairs with my bicycle, put down my bag,grabbed my camera and made my way to the roof where I took these shots.

I came back downstairs, uploaded the pictures and my fingers starting walking across the keys in a monologue to the people of downtown. Yes, to the people of Downtown Los Angeles. It is what I felt tonight- the community in its diversity and complexity. A beautiful tapestry of people, indeed.

I imagined myself sitting in a huge loft with a view of the city skyline and writing about them, telling stories about people, interesting people that live and work in the core of the city. I imagined being on the radio with a microphone, talking to people and wondering who, in the glitter of lights, would be listening to me as I spoke with love of my native city.

It is a nice feeling to feel what I feel now. The lights are off. I only hear the whir of the fan as it keeps me cool. People are on the streets walking to the bars. People are walking to their apartments after a night of gaity. Some are standing on street corners with nothing to do but alot that needs to be accomplished before they can rest their heads for the night. Each intersection of downtown is like a sibling with a different personality. Sometimes they get along wonderfully and sometimes they fight like worst enemies.

But we are family and I feel that tonight. This is where my journey has taken me.
I am peaceful tonight. It has come from a great deal of work and a great deal of help from other people. I am humbled by their many expressions of confidence in me, their trust in me.

It encourages me to trust myself and my future. Those words do not sound like they are coming from the same man who started talking to the world a few months ago.

But it is. The same man who is different and feels so different and sees things in different ways. There is much to discover in oneself I have learned. There is much to discover in downtown LA. It is a community that shines bright in its beautiful darkness at night like an outpost in unexplored land. There is much to discover and no doubt I will discover more each day. I worked hard to do so.

This is Scribeskidrow saying good night downtown Los Angeles. I love you.

Belonging, BAm-bam and togetherness

The Al-Ilympics were held on Saturday. it was an event that had the attention of everyone on Skid Row. Apparently it has been an on going event.

This year, like the last 4 or 5 years, it was held at Compton College. AT least a thousand people were there. Most of the different missions and non-profit organizations were represented in the different sporting events. I did not go but I heard a good time was had by all. Everyone came back in there blue teeshirts as if the came from a family reunion.

There is something that must be said here. I have said it in the past and I say it now and will most likely say it in the future.

When there is collaboration in Skid Row, something happens that is magical. Not only do things get done but everyone is uplifted. Just like the shooting of the Soloist. It was a team effort and everyone was involved. Everyone had to be involved for the undertaking to be successful.

I trust that this kind of cooperation inter-organization cooperation will continue
and expand into other areas. I believe that if all of the organizations banded together, some way, Skid Row could have a company located down here that could provide jobs--perhaps in the "Green Industries". Incentives could be created by the public officials, and the companies would enjoy tremendous goodwill.

Now don't ask me who, how or what. I do not know. I have some ideas and working on them. But it is just like anything else down here on Skid Row.

When I came here, I had nothing. I mean nothing. Five cents in my pocket and the clothes on my back. A year later and I have a job, and am in possession of my real estate license again. A year ago I thought life was hopeless.

Most people think that Skid Row is hopeless. And yet there are individuals who are working together to improve the community who are not listening to the prevailing status quo opinion.

The Skid Row Basketball League is a good example. The people feel a part of something. Everybody needs to feel like they are a part of something.
As each day of our lives comes and goes, it seems like we become more isolated. We become more lost out here.

The latest craze on the internet are networking sites. People join softball leagues and other categories of clubs of mutual interest to be around people--to belong.

I was in court one day and the lawyer who spoke my behalf spoke about how it was essential to connect people on Skid Row with their families to insure their continued recovery. At the time I understood what he was saying, vaguely, but I had no appreciation at all for it.

Two things happened that changed my total perspective.

I wrote a post about Steve Lopez. I basically commented on what I thought of his warmth and sincerity that he displayed on the Tavis Smiley show. About 3 weeks later I happened to notice that someone left a comment that I had not seen before.

I opened it and read the comment. It was from a man named Bam-Bam. Bam-Bam lives in the Lamp project on San Julian ST. He shared with people on my blog how he was a featured background artist on that movie set and how it changed his life.
Well, I was on that movie set and I watched every day what was going on.

Some of the extras were asked to do certain things and they did them. I walked up to Joe Wright, the director, and I told him that the reason the extras gave so much of themselves was because the crew treated the extras with extraodinary respect. I had been on many sets. I worked as an extra for two years while in between jobs, and in many cases you have a schism between crew and extras. It all depends on the attitudes of the star and directors. They set the tone of community or lack there of.

From day one Joe Wright and every part of the crew went out of the way to make everyone feel that they were respected and that their opinions and insights were needed.

There were people from the Lamp project who were given more latitude and had freedom to roam around all parts of the set. Joe Wright made a point of including them. You could see how they felt better about themselves, increasingly so, as each day went on. I am talking about people who have been physically, and thus, emotionally scarred. I am talking about people who have been excluded from feeling like they belonged to anything. I am talking about people who were disenfranchised from even those who have perenially been disenfranchised.

They way Joe Wright treated them, you could see that they had never been treated with such coutesy nor had they been embraced with such warmth and sincerity. Bam-Bam
said that that movie shoot changed his life forever because of the way he was treated.

I began to have a clue after I read his comment. Afterwards, I had my own experience. I saw my mother. I had not seen her in over a year. Had not spoken to her in over a year. It was a situation that I never could have imagined.
I felt a part of me had been cut out and

I have talked to many people on Skid Row. I talked to many men while sitting in jail. I was shocked at how common it was that men had not talked to their mothers in 10 to `15 years. I asked them were they estranged from their mothers and the ansswer was no. We all know of people who are estranged from family members for one reason or another. But these men told me that they just lost touch and many of them did not know how to get in touch with their mothers. It was something that was beyond my comprehension especially when I could not see mine and wanted to do so in the worst way.

While talking to these men, it was clear as the conversatons progressed that by not having that connection with family, these men had no connection with self. Many of them, I believe felt it was so natural because they came from communities where people felt disenfranchised from America at large. Therefore it was just a progression. As that progression continued so did their deterioration.

I was wrong when I said that mother's day softened people in Skid Row. I was talking from the perspective of a man who sat in the guard shack at the Transition House. That was the only perspective I had. At that time I never went out of the Transition House unless it was to the library. It was my sanctuary and security blanket.

When I returned from seeing my mother, I walked down San Julian streets. People were smoking crack. But they were not smoking crack like they usually do. It was frenetic. It was desperate. It was as if they were trying to dull a pain that surfaces every so often. I believe it is the pain they feel from dealing with something that is not a part of them any longer. It is the relationship between them and their mothers.

Men and women smoked back to back "hits". They rushed across the street to buy more if they had no more. I had never seen people smoke with such abandon like that before. They have not smoked like that since that day.

People who use drugs become used to separating themselves from themselves. The same thing holds true with people who abuse alcohol and prescribed medication. One becomes so separated that it becomes the norm and the norm is a feeling of constant internal chaos and like of piece.

Sure, I realized after time had passed how I not only separated myself from myself but I separated myself from my family. Of course, I did not know this while I was intoxicated. It was only after the fact that I saw the damage that had been done. But I did not come from an environment where separation was normal. Therefore it was easier for me to feel the profound abnormality of the experience of the people who have made a choice to disconnect from their families and thus from society. And they do not know how to get back.

When I came back home from mother's day there was something different I was feeling.
I feel it every day. I feel that what was cut out of me is returning. Not only the reconnection to my mother but a reconnection to my family. There has been a feeling reseeded of belonging. I no longer have the sickening feeling of being in forced exile. I slept better and that visit provided me with the fuel to keep striving. I was a part of my family again with the new insight as to what that means as it relates to responsibility and obligation-something that is performed with pleasure. I have also been more productive.

The Al-ilympics provided people of Skid Row with the feeling of belonging to something. The filming of the Soloist did the same thing. The set created a sense of family that is common on many sets where people have been together for any length of time. Both of these scenarios were came as a result of collaoratives efforts by the powers that be.

I believe strongly that the powers that be can collaborate on bringing corporate america to Skid Row. Think outside the box. Be creative. Be daring. Be fearless in the pursuit of change and lasting change at that.

People drive by Skid Row and they see people on the streets like the people in these pictures. But what they do not see are the people who are in programs who sit there every day and are learning how to work with computers. I was impressed with a student named Connie. Connie was a crack addict. She said she had to change her life. A couple of months ago Connie joined the Strive program. Connie had never touched a computer. I personally helped her set up an email account.

Over the last few weeks Connie has been working on a presentation. On Friday she unveiled it to me. It was done on Powerpoint. It was powerfully creative and she used advanced Powerpoint applications.

She is trying to find a job. There are many people like that on Skid Row that are not on the streets buying and selling drugs. Those that can bring about change must learn about the Connies that are doing their best to change their lives. And Connie had doubts about her ability to operate the computer. You would never know it by the presentation she produced. It was magnificent.

I have seen people change their lives. I have seen them change their lives while feeling they were a part of something. In the past I saw people change substantially from before the started boot camp and when they came out.
There was a sense of pride, a sense of camraderie that was embedded in their souls.
They belonged to something.

I see where Connie and others, as they progress in the STRIVE program, bond with each other. They start out as homeless individuals but they become a team, a force that is greater than themselves.

I believe that a company that plants itself on Skid Row will do so much. It will be a force greater than themselves. It will give people a sense of belonging.

The Skid Row Training programs can be a feeding mechanism into these jobs that need to be field. That is why cooperation, collaboration and integration of these programs is so badly needed. It will create a synergy that has not existed before.

There are many Connies out here. There are many Bam-Bams out here who are waiting and who are preparing themselves. These men and women are a part of society. They must be embraced. For if they are not, we, as a society, will not move forward.
We, as a society, will have something that is continued to be cut out of us and thus cut out of our soul. We can not be in denial of this. For if we continue to be in denial, that denial will destroy us.

Let us work to bring an industry or company down here. There is a growing labor force that is ready willing and able to prove themselves. Let us find a company or lets find a consortium of companies who are willing to take on a pro rata share of the risk, perceived and real, to embrace these men and women into society. It will be the beginning of something that will heal all of us whether we know it or not.