AUSTIN ADVOCATE

What Is Homelessness Supposed to Look Like?
By Penny Hunt

The quote that gets said to me all the time is “You don’t look Homeless.” I mean, really now – What is Homelessness suppose to look like?

We are not all the dirty looking, wine drinking or crack smocking people either. Nor are we all lost & touched people who walk around talking to ourselves, and we all should not be looked upon this way either!

God is the only one who has that right, no one else should/ or because they have money can play God to others who are less fortunate!

The thing is – is what has happened in this country of ours and the people in it, have lost their compassion for their fellow man anymore. Where did it go? And from where I stand – I don’t see it very much anymore. Most everyone is more concerned with what you look like, and how much money you have. This is just another form of prejudice against people that are considered to be “less than” to most of society.

There are a few of us that are clean and can even carry on an intelligent conversation with you, if you give us a chance.

It would be nice to find some kind of “Middle Ground” where one and all could “exist” without being judge. Homelessness knows no gender, race, religion or age. It can affect anyone, no matter who they are or where they come from.

So, I ask you again – “What is Homelessness suppose to look like?”

This is a stereotypical way may people look upon me and others like me. In a world where what you look like and how much you have counts, and only out for myself and not my fellow man means anything.

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BLIND MAN RESCUES CATS

Dear Readers,

I am writing this story as an encouragement in hopes it will touch the hearts and minds of those who read it.

First, let me begin by stating I am disabled after being permanently blinded in a horrible motorcycle wreck when I was 17 years old. I crashed face first into the side of a truck going 50 mph. I COMPLETELY crushed my face DESTROYING BOTH EYES, nose structure, significant bone matter and soft tissue leaving MY FACE grotesquely DISFIGURED for life. I have undergone many agonizing surgeries over many years to reconstruct what was left of my face.

I have spent more than half of my life in total isolation because of being unemployed. As a result, my social contact with people has been very minimal, let alone making many friends. My dearest friends have been my cats. I have TWO BEAUTIFUL cats Baby Kitty and Pudding Pie THAT are my best friends in the world !!! Baby Kitty was a 2-week-old kitten that was found in the dumpster. Simply put, once you’re in the dumpster, you’re in the dumpster.

At that point in my life, I was living in a dilapidated 80-year-old darkened, roach infested motel room with no heat. She was all I had in the world as she climbed on me and began nursing on my neck. She must have thought I was her mother as she nuzzled and would softly purr and fall asleep. She still does this all the time.

One year later, I found two stray one-month old kittens under a house on a cold winter’s night. I gave away one of the kittens, and the other I kept. The first night, one of the kittens happily purred as it licked my fingers as I scratched its head lying on my bed. I’m sure it was glad to have a full belly and a warm bed to sleep in. Had I not rescued them, they both would have frozen to death, as it was going to drop to 29 degrees that night.

I moved to Biloxi, Mississippi, and Baby Kitty and Pudding Pie always followed me around the apartment complex wherever I would go. They would patiently wait in front of the rental office meowing for me and would follow me home. The most amazing thing began to happen. Pudding Pie would meow the most beautiful words you could possibly hear from an animal. He would meow “I love you.” I have the video I took of him saying this several times as he always did every morning when he came inside. He most certainly knew what these words meant as I constantly said it to him and expressed it with the loving touch of my hands.

Unfortunately, Pudding Pie was tragically killed last on September 11 crossing the road. If you think that crushing my face blinding me caused emotional distress, it was nothing compared to holding my best friend in my arms crying uncontrollably!! I would have gladly taken his place rather than endure the incomprehensible emotional pain I felt holding him crying. I have never felt so emotionally devastated in my life, by the pain I felt in my heart and mind as I held him with tears in my eyes rocking him like a baby!!! I cried for over a week feeling horribly miserable, as my heart physically ached. It hurt so bad, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I lost 17 pounds in a week and did not eat for several days because I was so upset. Baby Kitty, who was his girlfriend, was also very saddened, as she sorrowfully meowed for several days because she missed him. This further added to my devastating loss.

Prior to Pudding Pie being killed, I have volunteered several times at the Animal Defense League in San Antonio during the summer, feeding all the kittens and cats. I took them out of their depressing cages and opened several cans and pouches of cat food I bought and put it in front of them. It took about 1 second for the kittens to figure out this was a good thing, as they ravenously slurped up the juices. Afterwards they were all asleep purring, with full bellies and smiles on their faces. I love nothing more than to feed these precious loveable kittens. I went there a few days after Pudding Pie was killed and wanted to do something for my friends to show my love for them. I felt so much better while I fed them.

I wrote a beautiful poem, “I Love You,” in honor of Pudding Pie and his little girlfriend, Baby Kitty. I have sent it to Cat Fancy and Readers’ Digest magazine to be published in an upcoming issue. I spent many days crying, thinking about Pudding Pie and the wonderful memories that inspired the words for my love for him. I have also made it into a beautiful plaque lasered in gold lettering. I have proudly displayed it for others to read. I also planted two beautiful bushes, one having pink and the other purple flowers for Baby Kitty and Pudding Pie to represent my love that will grow over the years for my cats.

I had a touching memorial service for Pudding Pie. It was a full moon and we had the memorial service in the darkness with candles burning as they swayed in the breeze, which added a mystical touch. It was an emotional service, as his eulogy and poem I wrote for Pudding Pie was read. I had a very beautiful song by Bread, “Lost Without Your Love,” playing as the poetry was read.

I did something so amazing that you won’t believe it. I was most fortunate to locate Pudding Pie’s only son. When I found Pudding Pie’s only son, he was over 600 miles away in Biloxi, Mississippi. I flew him to me after the hurricane Ivan in mid-September. You can’t possibly imagine the joy of holding my best friend’s only son after my heart had been broken. He is very exotic looking, being mostly white with black ears and a fluffy, black tail. He is just like a big baby when I hold him. He loudly meows all the time “I Love You,” as did his daddy. He is absolutely priceless because of my love for him.

In addition, I got his mother as well. I rescued them from a most horrible environment being relentlessly physically and mentally abused and starved. My only concern was to rescue both cats from a living Hell and once I had them, this was all that mattered. Now they live with me in a beautiful, loving home. To live with me is like living with Princess Diana.

In honor of Pudding Pie, I named his son Pudding Pop and his mother Pudding Bop. When I got her, I did not know she was pregnant and she had two beautiful kittens that look like black and white striped tigers. They are very exotic looking kittens. In honor of the 77-year-old man, Oscar, who helped me rescue them, I named one of them Oscar and the other, Aleah after a dear friend whose cat, Rufous, played with Baby Kitty and Pudding Pie. I just got new prosthesis and I had them made after Oscar’s eyes, so I now have beautiful blue cat eyes, as a symbolic representation of my love for my cats.

I moved to Austin in late October, 2004, and discovered several stray kittens who had nothing to eat and no warm bed to sleep in. I made them a beautiful, carpeted cat house so they wouldn’t be out in the rain and cold. Immediately, they moved into it and I brought 4 of them inside. They love it as there is lots of warmth, cat food, and my love to share with them. All of the kittens meow “I Love You” everyday. I have the video to validate this. They most certainly are angels. Truly, Pudding Pie’s loving spirit lives within these kittens I rescued. You can’t imagine hearing these beautiful words once again, as Pudding Pie said all the time. I now have 9 cats all together. This is just the beginning of a vision that has transformed my life to help homeless cats.

Though I ran out of money, which is why I have been eating at the Salvation Army, because most of my disability check goes to rent, I am not out of hope. I spent all of my money on cat food leaving me only 28 cents so they could have something to eat.

Up until this point in my life, I have had no purpose. I now realize what I must do to give my life meaning so I can touch the lives of these cats who have touched my life. I want to start a cat shelter in the woods in honor of Pudding Pie, so that the cats can run around and never be in danger of being hit by a car and most important to spare their precious lives from being destroyed, because there isn’t enough room in the Austin Animal Shelter. This is my crusade and the torch that burns in my heart to save as many cats as possible; so I can find loving homes for them.

I am also producing a fantastic movie about these cats on my website www.habitatsforcats.com that will touch the hearts of millions of people to help me raise money to build my cat shelter. By helping them, I am helping myself. The only thing that matters in my life is what we do for others and making a difference in the world is where it begins.

Sincerely,

The Prince of Cats
David L. Steppe

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STREET PORTRAITS: MIGUEL
By David Weems

Now in my third week at the Salvation Army, a new “recruit” has been brought in.

His name is Miguel, a short, thin emaciated Hispanic male in his early 20s. He looks sickly, sweats a lot, and bears obvious bruises about his body. He speaks to no-one.

Very soon, I hear snickering remarks about a “faggot” amongst us. Within a few days, another new recruit---a big, burly, brutish-looking man---also checks in. It’s this kid’s boyfriend, who has actually decided to join the Salvation Army just to keep up with his victim.

I was still in my cowardly phase where I decided such things were none of my business, but I had never witnessed the kinds of physical and psychological abuse we all too often hear about in heterosexual relationships showing their counterparts in the gay world.

Miguel had actually entered the Salvation Army just to get away from his horrific domestic life. Instead of finding a haven, he was subjected to further abuse.

That is, until one of the “captains” (or whatever rank they’re called in this “Army”) stepped in one night after lights-out and boomingly announced that he would not tolerate any persecution of any sort of anyone staying here. He mentioned no-one by name, but everyone knew who he was referring to. I was surprised, impressed, and ultimately ashamed because I’d done nothing to befriend or shelter this young man myself.

The next day, his tormentor was gone. Miguel stayed a few days in sick bay, but when he came back, everyone was very kind to him. He looked a lot better, the bruises were disappearing, and his color was coming back. People offered him their leftover food.

I realized that homeless folks are a microcosm of the whole world. All the prejudices rampant in the affluent society are mirrored in the lowermost strata, but unlike the rich, we cannot afford our prejudices.

When he left, Miguel knew everyone on a first-name basis.

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Ground Hog Day
By Why Change Cain

The other day, I was sitting at a bus stop waiting for my daily experience in Public Mass Transit as it were. There were a few people there with me undoubtedly doing the same.

There was a red light adjacent to the stop with a pedestrian crossing. Right out in the street, on the other side was a construction project going on that had dug a deep hole in the street. The traffic was being diverted safely around the hole with traffic cones and the sidewalk on the other side was blocked to keep pedestrians from walking through the site. But the pedestrian crosswalk, which led directly into the hole, was not blocked. I suppose they (the workers) probably had to keep that open so the construction people could move around the site easily.

With a big backhoe parked there, sidewalks blocked, traffic cones, and all those men in safety vests standing around watching the one city worker work, a person would have to be a blind man to walk across the pedestrian crosswalk and fall onto the hole, right?

Well, guess who started walking across the street and headed for the deep hole? Yes, a blind man started from my side of the street and was headed directly for the deep hole. He had a seeing-eye dog leading him, but apparently not a very experienced one. The dog was a Border Collie, and didn’t show any signs of detecting any danger ahead for the man.

Halfway across the street, the dog seemed confused about how to react. The blind man was apparently not familiar with the dog either. The man seemed to be overwhelmed by all the sounds of the traffic and afraid the dog slowing down would leave him in danger. He was overtaking the dog and about to pass him up and walk right into the hole. None of the construction workers were aware of this.

I saw a situation developing that could have led to a tragic end. My first instinct was to run to his aid. There was time however to give the construction crew, the onlookers around me, or the dog a chance to react first because the man was walking rather slowly.

I removed the shopping bag from my lap and prepared myself to move quickly. I then took advantage of the next few seconds to observe my fellow man. I noticed the workers were too busy to see the potentially dangerous situation. I noticed the dog looked too confused to be of any assistance in time. But what was really disturbing to me was what I saw around me in the faces of the other people waiting at the bus stop.

About 5 people of all different races and backgrounds were staring right at the blind man walking right off into a deep hole in the street and doing nothing to try and stop it.

They seemed mesmerized and frozen. I felt as if I had just entered some kind of Twilight Zone where all people act like they’re from New York City.

Well, needless to say, I bravely jumped up and rushed out into oncoming traffic. I took the blind man by the arm and said, “Sir, excuse me, but there is some construction going on in front of you and you are about to walk off into a very deep hole in the street that your dog does not seem to detect. Let me lead you around the hazard to the other side”. I got him going in the right direction and he gave me a gracious “Why, thank you sir”. I then returned to my bus bench.

I’m not looking for any acknowledgements or rewards. I am telling this story to illustrate what I call, “The Ground Hog Day Situation”.

Most people that watch movies or read books are familiar with the Movie, Ground Hog Day, with Bill Murray. He plays a Meteorologist that is forced to live the same day in his life over and over until he gets it right. Every day he learns more from the day before what to do because he knows ahead of time what is about to take place.

That is my favorite movie of all time now. Yes, even more than Gone with the Wind or The Ten Commandments. Yes even more favorite than It's’ A Wonderful Life, or Terminator II.

Ground Hog Day has a very important moral to the story. We virtually all live the same day over and over again. There is usually more routine and predictable occurrences going on in most people’s lives than they care to admit. Basically, What I’m trying to say here is, if we pay attention to things going on around us. If we make even the slightest attempt to keep our awareness level up to par. And if we care at all for each other as we Americans pride ourselves in, then we should be able to notice situations developing around us that could turn out for the better if we react quickly and bring assistance.

Of course there will always be Mr. And Mrs. Oblivious sitting at the red light blocking the right turn lane by just a foot or so and talking on the cell phone.

But for the rest of us, Let me encourage you to nurture that humanitarian instinct that we are all born with. Let me urge you to watch, to think, to be as aware as you can be.

Don’t be like those people on the car insurance commercial that watch things go wrong and stand there talking about insurance. Stop the shopping basket from hitting the car. Tell the person they are boarding the wrong bus. Warn the old lady the pigeons are roosting and messing on everyone that sits under that tree. Run to the edge of the street where you saw the ball roll out and prepare yourself to catch the child running for it.

Need I say more?

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The Cruelest Eviction
By Kirk Becker

As an apartment manager, I never know which tenants are going to make it, and which ones aren't. Most of them do, otherwise I wouldn't be in business, but every once in awhile, I'm surprised. You can do all kinds of reference checks, but some times that just tells whether people have learned their lessons or whether they are about to begin them. We allow kids, but I've seen why a lot of places don't allow teenagers. It's never fun to tell momma that her kid's a brat.

They were a young couple, early 40's, one had a job, the other was looking. A little short on the income requirements, but they seemed happy together, reasonably stable and seemed like a good bet to last out their lease.

They did pretty well too, at first. Then they were a little late on the lease and a little short on the late fee. The next two months, they paid a months rent and two months late fees. Then I got a note from the cops that they neighbors had called about too much noise while they were fighting; no arrests were made, but it wasn't a good sign.

So I filed for eviction. It's a rather gentle process, they get two weeks before a judicial hearing, and even then, the judge gives them a week to pay back rent plus late fees, or else I get a judgment for the rent up without late fees until the effective date of the eviction. I can file a separate suit to recover rent through the end of the lease period, but I never do – if they can't afford the rent in the first place, I'm not likely to get any more money out of them after they've moved out.

The judge gave them a strong admonishment to either pay up or move out on the weekend, and the next Monday both sets of keys were in my drop box. I checked out the apartment; it was indeed vacant, and reasonably clean for a couple that knew they weren't going to get their deposit back anyways. (Actually, nobody gets their deposit back, but that's just because everybody wants a “new” apartment, so we have to put another layer of paint on the walls to give it that “new apartment” smell and then replace the carpet because of all the paint droppings on the old one.)

That morning, the guy came in, said he hadn't been getting along with the woman, and that he just wanted to get rid of her. He had a cashier's check to pay off the entire amount owed, plus $30 to change the lock, and said he wanted to move back in. Under the law, he had a right to do that, so I accepted the check and gave him the necessary paperwork for the judge, and had one of the caretakers change the lock. But what a jerk!!! At least I could see why the two of them hadn't been getting along.

That afternoon, the lady came in, said she hadn't been getting along with the man, and that she just wanted to get rid of him. She had a cashier's check to pay off the entire amount owed, and wondered how much it would cost the change the lock.

Maybe these two deserved each other – at least they had something in common. I told her that I'd noticed that they had vacated the apartment and so we changed the lock already – since it was already done, I'd waive the re-keying fee for the lock.

I gave her a copy of the new key and signed the paperwork she needed to take before the judge to prevent the eviction. Then I called the caretakers, told them I was taking off and would be out for a couple of days, put a note on the door, and locked up the office.

In every cloud there's a silver lining. With each tenant paying the entire back rent, they're now paid up through the end of the lease period. I hope they don't get mad at me, I was just doing my job.

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Yetie Detector
story by Troy England Evitt
illustrated by Ashley Holt

The great lord of 40's/ early 50's comics was Morty Goldburg, who, along with his accountant and favorite illustrator, Bernie Meyerfarb, wrote Scarbone and Teabiscuit from issue #1 - #42 at Hamless Lunch Comics.

Scarbone and Teabiscuit raised not a few eyebrows with scenes of Scarbone getting snapped with a towel in a Greek bathhouse and Teabiscuit's infamous 3-martini breakfasts. But, at the end of each issue, the bad guy was either in jail or really a robot and the kiddies lapped it up like highchair pabulum.

When Hamless Lunch was bought out by mob boss, Joey "the Chin" Pamperdampoli, Goldburg and Meyerfarb were forced to write boxing comics like "Glove-Fisted Tales" and "A Round for the House", which featured, badly, a boxing match between Scarbone and Teabiscuit on a parallel Earth ruled by giant bugs.

After three broken thumbs and a barrel-roll from a moving car, Meyerfarb accepted $21,000 and a bus ticket to LA, where he resurfaced as a hack illustrator for ZAPTHUDPOW Comics, working on such epics as "Nuclear Skidoo and Megaboy" and "The Adventures of Captian Gorilla".

Goldburg ended up writing pulp sci-fi novels like "Green Men from Mars" and the "Robot Dragon" series>

Meyerfarb would live to be 89 and died in his sleep.

Goldburg left a fortune as well, but went insane. When Meyerfarb last visited him, he reported that Goldburg had been lobotomized and knew only that he liked pie very much.

A copy of Scarbone and Teabiscuit #11, with the elusive blue staples, sold for $2,441 at Comtrek '02 and was later bartered for a Polaroid of Will Shatner with his dogs.

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Teach Them to Feed Themselves
By Tumen Soliz

To sell for profit
advertise to the masses,
mass profits that is.

Subquality goods,
with builtin obsolescence,
bottom line profit.

Any citizen
is elegable to buy.
Has freedom to choose.

By the same token
All are exposed to the ads.
Morals don't exist.

Sex sells, drugs are bad.
Newspaper underware ads.
Fueling whose culture?

We claim to be fair,
Freedom for any and all.
Wealth debauchery.

Freedom mantra sucks
when controllers make us slaves.
They lead we follow.

Guardians of the grain
power of life over death
can feed the masses.

We claim God's image,
spilce genes to feed the masses.
Warlords keep us out.

Despot tyrants cry
secular freedom mantra,
live by golden rule.

So don't blame Darfor
and fess up to Abu Graib.
Bullies kill the ump.

Don't expect respite
from those with nothing to lose
passion screams we're God.

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Stained Glass
By David Weems

I once walked by a beautiful church
That had its stained-glass window broken
All the bluegold-redgreen tiles
Were lying in disarry on the sidewalk.

They had once formed a complete picture
Now they were broken shards with sharp, jagged edges
Waiting to be put back together.

I see my brothers and sisters on the street
Separate and separated
Some resigned to being shattered fragments
Others longing to rejoin that beautiful mosaic
The pieces that want to be part of a whole.

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You Wake Up
Everything is different
Even the You you knew
before you slept has changed
each day is like that-
even when we pretend
we are just the same in this-
even calendars lie-
they refuse to change each month
unless we apply our hands to their recticence
turn them over like compost
only then will they admit to
a change in state.

Thom the World Poet

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