AUSTIN ADVOCATE

Those We Leave Behind
By Kendle Wade

Photo by JJ Hermes

The burial of Walter James Wheeler was over. Friends and family filed out of the Travis County International Cemetery, the county's pauper graveyard. They had to step carefully between the clustered, nondescript graves because there is no proper sidewalk separating them.

Two mourners decided they would visit where their father - Wheeler's brother, Lewis - was buried, about 50 feet away.

But when they stood under the thin oak that had shaded Lewis' burial on April 18, 1995, they could not find his grave.

"Yeah, he was buried right here, I'm sure," said Lewis's son, Mark Satterwhite, as he stared at a patchy spot on the seven-acre lot beside horse pens and tethered pit bulls near MLK and Ed Bluestein boulevards. A county employee reassured Satterwhite that she could locate his father using a frequently updated map of burials.

But for those buried here who did not leave behind curious families or money for marble headstones, it's only a matter of time before a freshly dug grave becomes indistinguishable from the field around it - a recurring problem for a historically overlooked graveyard.

For families below the poverty line and the homeless, Travis County pays a funeral home $850 or $500 to bury an adult or child in the International Cemetery. This covers the cost of the funeral, but because headstones are difficult to purchase for less than $400, the county provides a metal name plate bearing the deceased's information on a slip of paper, which eventually falls apart.

The cemetery is 110 years old and lacks the historical recognition given to other funeral grounds. The Chamber of Commerce has omitted the cemetery from a list of recommended historical sites, and so did the 1986 Travis County Historical Commission survey, which was supposed to record all cemeteries in the county for the Austin History Center, according to a report by Virginia Raymond, a UT doctoral student.

This oversight does not reflect the cemetery's role in the history of East Austin in the late 19th century. In 1895 Travis County purchased the land, which was outside Austin's city limits at the time, to quarantine those ill with fatal, contagious diseases such as smallpox and typhoid. This field hospital, or "pest farm," as it was called at the time, was established as a county cemetery a year later when the first person was buried there, according to Raymond's 2002 article, published in the magazine La Voz de la Esperanza.

Researchers, including Raymond, said public health officials created pest farms to quarantine poor, minority populations, because their cramped living conditions made them a public health threat. It is unknown how many were buried in the Austin pest farm, according to the Austin American-Statesman.

In the late 1930s, the county sold its original pauper cemetery, on valuable land in Central Austin, to developers. Officials dug up nearly 200 bodies and moved them to the pest farm and buried them in two unmarked mass graves.

The county declared it the official graveyard for the city's poor and homeless in 1965. A 1967 Austin American-Statesman article revealed the deplorable condition of the cemetery, reporting waist-high weeds and sunken graves.

"It looks more like a goat pasture than a final resting place," wrote staff writer Carol Fowler.

A few weeks later, the precinct's commissioner organized a major clean-up effort, but the cemetery slumped back into abandonment over the next two decades.

The county assumed more responsibility in 1986 when a pall bearer panicked while walking on rotting boards laid over a grave and dropped the coffin, exposing the corpse. After front page news coverage, the cemetery received a lowering device and a new fence.

Even with the improvements, the county only employed a temporary maintenance crew until they hired Joe Casarez as the full-time caretaker two years ago.

"The families thank me and tell me that it looks so much different since I've been out here," Casarez said. "After being a Marine for eight years, I've finally found something I can do to help people. It gives me [a] strange feeling, like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing."

Knowing that the paper markers will disappear, families and friends find ways to fight erosion that are cheaper and more personal than marble. Anyone searching for a grave can consult a frequently updated map of the cemetery.

"I've helped a lot of ladies who come in here with bags of cement," Casarez said. "They take the paper name card and make their own headstone, right here."

Others put up white picket fences, stuffed animals, toys, or bright plastic flowers that dot the drab field.

"You can do stuff here you can't do anywhere else," said Curtis Mills, a road and maintenance supervisor for Travis County who oversees grave placement.

"Take this cactus here," he said, pointing to the 4-foot-wide plant someone placed on a grave. "What am I supposed to do with it? I can't cut it down."

In the county cemetery, a grave can be artwork and a graveside service can be a party.

Every Christmas, the motorcycle buddies of "Fast Eddie," who was hit by an 18-wheeler in 1983, come and drink by the tall iron fence surrounding his grave, said Mills, pointing to Eddie's Harley-Davidson-shaped name plate.

"They'd plug in Christmas lights and throw in a beer for him," Mills said.

The county's Health and Human Services department administers burials for the homeless and families whose annual income is less than $19,350, said Christy Moffett, social services manager for the Travis County Palm Square Community Center. The department of Transportation and Natural Resources oversees maintenance, scheduling, record-keeping and opening of the graves.

If a homeless person dies and no one claims the body, the county selects a funeral home from a rotating list.

Now a new patch of land is being cleared for expansion.

"It will fill up in about four to five years," Casarez said. Also, a proposal has been placed before the County Commissioner's Court that would change cemetery policy to offer cremation as an alternative to burial in the cemetery, like most other pauper cemeteries. The court will announce their decision in the near future.

For medical officials in possession of the recently deceased, the search for a homeless resident's next-of-kin may take more than two weeks because reconnecting to family members is often impossible.

"These people have burnt all their bridges, used all their resources," said Richard Troxell, president of House the Homeless. Because their families were usually the first to help, they are the first to cut them off. "So when they die, they are usually alone," Troxell said.

When he digs a grave for a homeless person, Joe Casarez prepares to say a few words at the graveside service, because no one else might come. But he is proud to help. "I say the Lord's Prayer, throw a little dirt on the casket, and a peaceful feeling comes over the cemetery. It's like everything is all right for them at that time."

No one may be there to place flowers on the grave, but Troxell refuses to let anyone's life or death go unremembered. Twice a year, House the Homeless sponsors a homeless memorial service on Auditorium Shores by the Memorial Plaque and Tree of Remembrance, a memorial erected by the organization. Last November, the homeless and homeless advocates read aloud the 88 names of the homeless who died on the streets of Austin in 2005. This is a large increase from the first memorial held in 1992, when 24 died over a three-year period.

"The life expectancy of the homeless is now 10-to-15 years shorter," Troxell said. "The federal minimum wage hasn't been raised since 1997. It's impossible to get by."

Although family relations may be permanently severed, Austin's homeless community functions as a replacement family - a family with its own means of remembering those who are buried in the International Cemetery.

Feb. 21, Casarez was preparing to bury a homeless woman known only as Lynn, when eight of her friends showed up at the grave.

"They showed more emotion than 50 people," he said. One of them, a blond-haired man with backpacks on his walker known as Byrd, stepped forward.

"The way he spoke about his 'old lady,' it was like listening to a professor. So eloquent," Casarez said. He described how Lynn took care of him when he was ill. As he finished speaking, Byrd took out drumsticks and played on her casket for 10 minutes.

"Said it was the song she asked him to play every night, and she would be mad if he didn't play it now," Casarez said.

"They treat each other like brothers and sisters," said Valerie Romness, board president of the Austin Advocate, a monthly publication written and sold by the homeless. Since 1996, Romness has independently organized carpools to transport the homeless to the International Cemetery so they can attend the graveside services of their friends. "I want to make sure they have permission to grieve," she said. "Society doesn't care if a homeless person loses a friend."

Romness said funeral directors sometimes rush graveside services for the homeless.

"The county pays [funeral homes] much less than the normal $5,000 per funeral," Romness said. "If our little service doubles or triples their time involvement, that's money."

She often has difficulty getting the dates and times from funeral homes that are reluctant to give out information to non-family members. If she can't follow through on a graveside service, Romness organizes informal memorial services in parks.

It was at one such service that she saw Lynn for the last time.

"Lynn went to a lot of services for her friends - she was [a] very sensitive, happy, caring woman," Romness said. "As she was leaving, she came up and whispered in my ear, 'Thank you for doing this. I hope someone does this for me.'"

[Reprinted by permission of the Daily Texan]

Photo by JJ Hermes

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Keeping it Clean
By Richard Troxell

Sixteen members of House the Homeless joined Keep Austin Beautiful in efforts to keep Austin clean.

For the second year in a row, members of House the Homeless scoured Waller Creek for trash. We loaded 36 stretch garbage bags with every imaginable item from Styrofoam cups to a sopping wet sleeping bags to rusted out spring mattress. We wore thin rubber gloves that tore or shredded almost every time we picked up discarded steering wheels, garbage cans or milk crates. Each time we passed an intersecting road, we would clammer out of the creek with over-loaded bags and deposit our refuge for the pick up crew that would follow.

After two and a half hours that took us from 7th Street, up to Brackenridge Hospital and back again, we loaded up the truck and Ran's VW Microbus and headed for Fiesta Gardens in East Austin. Once there, we presented specially selected trash treasures that were later to be judged against other such relics. I submitted an industrial strength gas can with a spring loaded safety cap. The person submitting the most unique item was to win a prize. One of our guys won a $25.00 gift certificate when he presented a once beautiful (though now thoroughly dilapidated) wood and wire mesh bird cage. We danced for joy when he won.

We enjoyed live music and ate our fill of quality hamburgers and hot dogs, drank our choice of beverages under the shade of a pavilion and the near by trees.

A grand time was had by all. We felt proud as we left hours later fully sated and happy in our new Clean Sweep T-shirts. We plan to do it again next year.

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On the Road
By J.D. Acuff

It was Tuesday morning. Tina and Adam just walked up to camp. I was sitting there, going through my stuff and thinning it out. Monday night we talked about leaving Tampa, Florida. Tina being like the camp little sister, but Adam’s girl. Adam being the baby of the camp. Henry and Paulie went to the labor hall not knowing of our decision. Jim, we heard, went to jail. Jim was my best friend, Adam a close first. Paulie was the drunk and Harry was dad of the camp since Robert Young died a few months back of a heart attach. He founded the camp.

We all were situated along the tracks off Fletcher and Nebraska, on county property. We had permission, four large tents, one used as a living room with power we ran from an auto shop. We had a TV, radio and light there. That’s also where we discussed changes in camp. We were able to have campfires and areas for the bathroom, even a toilet seat chair we made. Also, we made a horseshoe pit.

Well, as it started, Adam and Tina came into camp and started gathering what they wanted. After about an hour, we were all three headed for the freeway. So here is how our journey started. We got to I-275 and Fletcher. Well, we weren’t there for very long at all. Some really big fellow in a white Chevy duelie picked us up. He gave us a ride about thirty miles outside of town to Pasco County to an exit at State Road 52. He also gave us a loaf of Cuban bread that was still warm. As we sat at that exit, we talked about the rainbow gathering that was going on in the Ocala National Forest. Adam, being in Austin before, suggested us coming to Austin. Everything he said was good about helping the homeless, but he thought if we got to the rainbow gathering we would get a ride to Austin.

Anyhow, as we were talking, a rig pulled over. We jumped up in the white 18 wheeler. There was a black truck driver named Harry. Tina and Adam sat on his bunk and I sat up front. He and I were sharing jokes and talking. Harry then grabbed his remote for his TV and VCR where he proceeded to put some porno flick on. We had about 70 miles to Ocala, Florida where we wanted off to try and track down the rainbow gathering. I never could understand the porno flick he put in, for he told me and I showed pictures of his family. Finally we got let off in Ocala, Florida.

So, as we said our goodbyes and thanked him, we proceeded towards a nearby store. There we asked about the rainbow gathering. The store clerk gave us direction about what she had heard. So we headed towards the way her instructions told us which, by the way, was straight through town. Tina, walking with a fractured ankle, it went slow. The store clerk said it was about ten miles away to our cutoff road. Well, we kept walking, unable to hitch in the city, we kept going. It was about five miles just to the center of town. After we passed that point, we walked another five miles, picking cigarette butts up to smoke. We were getting tired and hungry.

Oh, I did forget to mention that before Harry picked us up, a Mexican girl who caters to the construction sites, stopped and gave us food and drinks.

We started wondering how far this cutoff was. Well, we stopped and took a break, smoking what butts we had. As we started again, it was starting to get dark and we were looking for a good spot to sleep but we were too much in the city still.

Now the strangest thing happened to us. A man pulled out of an executive park dressed in a suit, driving a brand new Jaguar, stopped us and asked if we have five dollars. We said “No” and wished we did for we were hungry, wanting a beer and cigarette. He asked us where we were going to sleep. We said we didn’t know. After a long stare, he said to Tina to come there. He jumped out of his vehicle and pulled out his wallet and handed her some money. Adam and I were about 20 feet away. As she started towards us the man drove away in his car. Well, she walked up and handed Adam and I twenty dollars each and she said she had one, too.

So now we were discussing what we wanted to do with the money. Adam, a full-blown alcoholic, wanted beer. Tina was quiet and I suggested a motel room because it was almost dark and there was a motel two blocks back down the street which we had just passed. So, it was off to the motel. It cost us $45 for all three of us and it had cable TV and two beds. It was great. Well, Adam wanted beer and we got a twelve-pack and two packs of cheap smokes with the rest of the money. We all got in a good shower and dressed up, plus got a nice, little buzz. Then all of us watched an old movie, then crashed out. That was day one of my adventure.

I woke up first. I’m an early riser anyway. As we packed up still concerned to find the rainbow gathering, we got on our way. Well, all of us wanting a beer but none in mid-town. So we ended up walking another five miles to get to the edge of town, we thought. We were scared of no stores. Well we found one and got some beer and walked another mile to find a good spot to drink it.

After we got our beer down, we began onward toward the directions given to us. But we walked seven more miles, no rides and nowhere for cars to pull over. Well, at the end of seven miles, we came to a visitor station for the National Forest. There we found out exactly where the rainbow gathering was, which was thirty miles away and very hard to get to. So, we decided to go back to I-75 which the ranger told us a shorter way which was ten miles away. It was one hell of a walk. When we got seven miles from the freeway, it was getting dark. Then we finally ran across a fire station which was great because we ran out of water 3 and a half miles back and it was hot that day. They gave us water and we headed our way. There were railroad tracks, so we headed there to sleep. It was terrible. We slept on rocks because the ditch was full of water. Then, to top that off, the trains were flying about 45 miles per hour and there were about twelve trains that day. Once we got to sleep, the train would wake us, plus, being scared of rocks flying from the trains passing.

That was a terrible night, plus to top, the mosquitoes were bad from recent rains. That takes care of day 2.

At day break, we packed up and started for the freeway. The fireman said that we were four miles till we hit the freeway. All of us dying for smokes, we were hunting for butts. About three miles out, we made it to a grocery store and Citgo Gas Station. We found a lot of butts and tried to panhandle the grocery store. We were asked to leave. We went to Citgo to get water and tried to panhandle. The store manager gave us some food, though. Tina lost her shoes but the store clerk called a friend and had some other woman drop another pair of shoes off up the highway in front of us a couple of hundred yards. She looked so that we saw them.

Well, that four miles seemed like six miles to us, but we finally got to the exit. There were a lot of stores and restaurants and two Pilot truck stops. Well, we panhandled beer, food and cigarette money real quick and found a patch of woods.

We took care of that stuff and went to the exit. It was still early in the day. But the exit had white poles and “no parking” signs, not allowing people to pull over. So at dark, we hit the truckers that exited the Pilot’s parking lots. Three people were too much and tempers flared. That’s the last I’ve seen of Adam and Tina. They got a ride first in a big rig. About an hour later, I did.

An El Salvadorian picked me up. It was already around 10 a.m. He told me about El Salvador and showed me pictures of his family. I-10 and I-75 weren’t that far off. He said he knew a truck stop five miles east of that junction so he dropped me off there, but it was basically a gas station in the middle of nowhere. There was a vacant gas station there also, and that’s where I slept that night, on the concrete.

Well, the next morning came quick and it was cold and windy. The first thing I did was to go hit the other two gas stations for water and cigarette butts. After that, I started to hitchhike on the freeway ramp. I started at 6:30 a.m., but by 9:30 a.m. I got a ride. I was surprised because it was Saturday and there wasn’t much traffic there. Well, my ride started and he was a very religious man. We talked of Jesus and the Bible the whole way. He told me that he thought about passing me but had said to himself, “What would Jesus do?” Anyhow, he was going to Tallahassee. When we got there, he offered me a cup of coffee and a couple of hotdogs. After we shook hands and said our goodbyes, he gave me $10 cash. Well, he dropped me off at the Pilot Truck Stop. The Flying J being a half mile down the road.

Now I started to walk up to the Flying J but barely, and I got a ride. Still, with coffee in my hand and my stuff. Well I soon found out that this guy’s name was Perry and he was headed to Houston. Well, we had quite the time joking and bull-shitting. We stopped to gas up right outside Gulfport, Mississippi. There I washed his windows since I was getting a ride and his kindness. He said I did a great job. Well, a couple more hours of driving, we made it to Louisiana border and it was getting dark. He told me his ten hours were up on driving and he had to pull over at the next rest stop. When we stopped, I went and took a homeless bath. Then, I went back to the truck and we ate since he had food in his refrigerator. His wife’s meatloaf was great and with that I had a can of pork and beans. Well, he gave me the top bunk and he turned the TV on. We began to watch a moving called “The Untouchables.”

After about a half hour into the movie, I had to go to the restroom. When I came out of the bathroom, a very attractive woman approached me. She asked if I was going to Alexandria, Louisiana. I told her I wasn’t and that I was in that 18 wheeler hitchhiking. She couldn’t hardly walk and was about in tears. Then she asked if she could sleep in the rig. I told her it wasn’t my rig but said I would ask the driver when she pleaded with me. Well, I asked Perry and he told me to check her ID and asked what she looked like. Her ID was good and she looked middle class. So then I invited her to meet Perry. Having to walk her, since she had a bad ankle, it took a bit of time. I found out her car had broke down and she hitched a ride that far. Then she told that here ex-husband was dying in Alexander, Louisiana of heart problems. Well, finally we reached the truck and I helped her in to meet Perry. He agreed to let her stay, but said she had to bunk with me. She was reluctant to sleep with me even though I swore I would be a gentleman. She tried the front chair but soon joined me in the bunk. We were back to back at first until she grabbed me and asked me to cuddle up next to her. That was hard for me, not being with a woman for a long time, but I held my word and was a gentleman. We all woke up early, 3 a.m. and started down the road. Dorothy and I talked a lot more while Perry drove.

I began to get really fond of her by now. When she was asleep earlier, I caressed her hair to comfort her so I did feel an attraction. Well, without saying anything, Perry got on the radio, trying to find someone going to Alexandria. But, we weren’t having any luck. So, without telling us, he went a different route towards Alexandria. While still asking a lot of drivers if they were headed that way, even saying if he had to, he would take her there. Now, as we were about fifty miles out of our way, and dozens of truckers trying to help out, we finally found someone who was about ten miles behind us. Now we were headed over this long bridge of just swamp around Lafayette, Louisiana where there is a cop they call Skippy who nails truckers for going fast over it. Well, they were the truckers radio talking and helping the trucker who was going to Alexandria catch up to us. That way we could meet and stay on schedule. Well, the bridge seemed like twenty miles long and it was foggy. But they got Cory within a mile of us. On the other end of the bridge we met at a truck stop. This is where we met Cory, the other driver going to Alexandria. So I helped Dorothy get in the other truck, gave her a big hug and a kiss. Also, I gave her a poem that I carry called, “The Lord Answered” plus told her I’d pray for her. She asked one favor and that was to get Perry’s address at which I did. She said she would see me again. I’ve tried calling the number she gave me with no response yet. But another twist is that Perry had gone to Viet Nam with my stepfather and I was raised in Las Vegas and his street address is Las Vegas. What a trip. It’s funny how God works. I still think of Dorothy and hope we’ll meet again. But it still was a short-lived love for her in my heart. It’s still there, though, even if I don’t know her that well.

As Perry and I keep going, we finally hit the Texas border. After Beaumont, Texas we took a bathroom break. Soon we were hitting the Houston area. He called for a truck going to Austin with no response and we went through two truck stops. Well, he was time pressed so he let me out at I-610 and SH-290 where there was no way I could hitchhike. So I proceeded to walk to an exit where I could get a ride. I walked upon a stop light where a Mexican in a pickup truck was at the light. I asked for a ride and he said “okay.” Our conversation went towards talking of a beer so he went to the store and he bought a twelve-pack. He took three beers and gave me nine beers, which I stashed in my backpack. He said the closest exit for me to hitchhike was six miles up the road.

Well, I walked and walked trying to hitch on a frontage road along 290. No luck and it started getting dark so I started looking for a camp spot. I found one near a park and ride in an empty field near a Popeye’s. So I decided to camp there. I didn’t know, but it was just a mile from my departure exit that I would find the next morning. Well, really hungry, because I hadn’t eaten since the day before I walked over to Popeye’s and panhandled $2 for something to drink and then asked the manager that when they closed if I could get some chicken before they threw it away. She was really kind and hooked me up with a box full. of chicken. I woke up around 4 a.m. and packed up my gear, not really knowing how far my exit was. As I walked down the street in the Houston area called “Jersey City” I got pulled over by the police. They combed through my stuff, I guess looking for weapons or drugs, both of which I didn’t have. I also had no warrants so they let me go. Well, I found my exit just a half mile up the block. No smokes and out of water, too, also I was real tired so I found a spot to take a nap.

When I woke up, I knew I needed water and smokes and I walked over to a nearby construction site where I sold my Stanley 25 foot measuring tape for $5 to a Mexican worker. Then I went to a gas station and got some water and cigarettes. Then I started hitchhiking at this exit. I ended up getting a ride pretty quick. An old man and a pickup was going 30 miles north to a city called Waller, Texas. There was a Love’s truck stop there and I went in there to use the restroom and get a Gator Aid. Then I walked back to the ramp.

About an hour later, a trucker named Greg picked me up and gave me a ride just south of Elgin, Texas, which was just 30 miles outside of Austin, Texas. I was out at a gas station in the middle of nowhere where I didn’t think I’d get a ride for a while. But it wasn’t even thirty minutes and I got a lift to the other side of Elgin, Texas, which was a better place to catch a ride.

My last ride to Austin was a trip with a red-neck with a dry but weird sense of humor who drive me all the way down to Sixth Street. Wow. I finally made Austin, Texas. A cold beer was on my mind, still having a few dollars on me. I had two beers and found out where Salvation Army and the ARCH were for somewhere to sleep and eat. Now my plan was to find my road dogs. Been here a week and still haven’t found out. Then that’s my road journey. Well, I’m still looking for Tina and Adam. Two days ago I started selling the Austin Advocate a Homeless Paper. It gives pocket money for cigarettes. Today is Saturday and I’m at my favorite corner, Sixth and Congress, doing my thing, selling the paper. Always beautiful women here, so it’s really cool. It puts a smile on my face. Well, I thought this was to be a regular day.

I was there about an hour and only sold two papers when a guitar player named Stanch walked up and we began to talk. First, about music, then I started to ask him if he had seen Adam or Tina or knew about them. Wow, what a trip. He knew exactly where they were so he and I headed towards where they hung out at. On our way, I was totally excited. My only true friends, all the way from Tampa. I was happy they made it, cause I was afraid I wouldn’t ever see them. Almost there, I saw Tina in the parking lot of a store panhandling. She didn’t see me, though. I casually walked to the store parking lot without her noticing me. Finally, I turned towards her to let her see me. When she saw who I was, she jumped up, screamed and hugged and kissed me. Well, we all walked to the park, got some beer and headed off. When we got to the park, we drank the beer and talked. That’s when I found out that Adam, my brother, was in jail for P.I., third offense. Damn it, man. But, also knew that I have to watch Tina. I didn’t want her out here on the streets alone. As Tina explained, they had only been there for two days. It was just the right timing to at least find Tina. Adam will be fine in jail. So now I’m getting Tina hooked up on getting a medical card, an ID and a place to stay at the Salvation Army. I met a girl named, Missy who is really cool. A new dog in our trio. I guess it’s four of us now. So now I’m trying to get Tina to tell me what their road trip was like from the point of us splitting up in Florida.

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Immigration, Minimum Wage, and Homelessness
By Richard Troxell

Immigrant workers are pouring across our southern border but not our northern border. This is because the economy to the North is relative to ours. Whereas, people streaming across the southern border are willing to leave their homeland, to sleep eight people in a room, leave their homes for as long as eight years, and send 85% of the wage they earn back home to la familia.

When the immigration demonstrations began here in early April, every flag we saw was Mexican. Hearing the anxiety that this caused for North Americans, the flags were quickly exchanged for the stars and stripes. But the sentiment was clear; the home land is Mexico. All surveys show that the vast majority of migrant workers intend to come here for a short period of time, earn as much money as possible and return home to their families as quickly as possible. But as the years roll by, workers become desperate to be with their families, so they send for them at great expense, personal risk and even death.

President Bush says that the undocumented workers come to do the work that workers in the United States don’t want and won’t do. That is true. Workers don’t want those backbreaking jobs at the wage that is being offered. That is because according to several US Conference of Mayors Reports, it is a wage that won’t afford a full time, minimum wage worker, the ability to rent a basic apartment anywhere in the US. So what is the incentive to work a full time, 40 hour a week job if it still leaves a person homeless and unable to afford basic housing? According to the National Coalition for the Homeless, 3.5 million people will face homelessness this year. The government says that 42% of these people are still working at some point during the week. Obviously, the work ethic is there, but the wage is not. These workers come from the pool of 10,000,000 minimum wage workers and the pool of 12,000,000 immigrant workers. This is a significant portion of our core workforce doing work that can't be out sourced.

That federal minimum wage is $5.15 an hour. Imagine working 40 hours a week for 50 weeks, earning only $10,700, and still not being able to afford basic rental housing. As Oprah Winfrey observed recently, you can't just raise the minimum wage one or two dollars and expect it to make any difference. Six or seven dollars an hour still won't house anyone in our most expensive cities. And to raise it anymore than that would destroy small businesses in rural America. We can’t have that. So what do we do?

We have come up with a pragmatic solution. We fix the federal minimum wage. Using existing government guidelines, we have created a formula that links the wage to the local cost of housing and ensures that anyone working a forty hour week will be able to afford basic rental housing wherever that work is done throughout the United States. We believe, that upon passage, this can end homelessness for at least 1,000,000 minimum wage workers, stabilize small business by reducing their employee turn over and reduce the subsequent retraining costs almost to zero. But won’t this encourage more immigrants to seek the golden wage ring of the United States? Perhaps. But what we have learned is ... it is not our culture that draws these workers; it is our dollars. Once we embrace the moral tenant that a wage must afford a minimum wage worker basic rental housing, other countries will follow suite. They will set their own standards. And when they do, when people can afford the basics of food, clothing, shelter, and have access to health care, they will remain at home with la familia.

Richard R. Troxell
National Chairman
Universal Living Wage

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Life
By Trisha Yeager Menke

If only my life I could rearrange
There are so may things that I would change.
I would be much nicer nad not so mean,
Far less selfish-and never demean
Others who also struggle to find
A way through the strife and troubles that bind
The heart and the soul
Body and mind!

But try as I will I cannot omit
A twiddle, a tad, or even a twit
from days gone by. They will never return!
And I can't fix mistakes despite how I yearn
To go back and repair dreadful things I have done
In hours of darkness and under the sun.
So forward I go, each day eand each night,
Trying this time to do things right!

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Taxes for basics only
By Tumen Soliz

The freedom to choose
does not guarantee well thought
intelligent choice.

If one is Christ like
why does one play devils game?
Claiming survival!

If Jesus is lord
and Mohammad is sacred,
who cares for the Earth?

Markets determine
quality of the response
for profit or not.

We play God because
power is the ultimate
aphrodisiac.

Condemn family homes,
claiming eminent domain,
for others pockets.

New violations
tall weeds and heavy traffic
conscienceless future.

Keep nuclear bomb
for defense from enemy.
Who is enemy?

Economic Greek
at the bottom of layoffs
and selling seaports.

Jesus went barefoot.
Shoes can now be mass produced.
No more sacrifice.

Tax dollar death squads
kill what threatens whose lifestyle!
Dissent provokes jerks.

Is one to believe
criminal activity
is inherited?

Fundamentalists
they hold our loved ones at risk
wha 'sup with their God.

Homegrown terrorist
fundamentalist dogma
kill unbelievers.

Free to protect war,
we claim right to give offense,
free to print cartoons.

Who's security?
According to whose morals?
Paid by our taxes!

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Imagine Mass Synapsis
By Tumen Soliz

Youth shall be served. Parents want the best for their children, a life better than one had.

Technology brings waves of realization to rebellious youth, "True peace means no fear". To stop vicious cycle, we now accept the responsibilities of reversing negative out dated methods. A survival instinct system of winners and losers, based on carnivorous fear, Loving God while maintaining devils lifestyle, must die for true life to begin.

Fame and fortune worked until the pirate ran out of escapable earth. To God God's and caesar caesar's, is now put in its proper historical perspective as another hard learned lesson. "Lost hope" is the end product of manmade greed. Any section of society where hope is lost loses respect. While materialism was abused by opportunists, lack of true spirit lost respect for other souls. The act of disrespecting others brought disrespect to us.

True change will make healthier citizens, through local gardens and true grassroots representation, and prove materialism is ridiculous. Learning not to fear, the young choose to own just what they need. Fame and wealth are relevant to ones effort. Ones effort is shaped from birth, work hard until thirty, enjoy this world when mature. Fair compensation for all employees at natural necessity industry is a win-win situation.

All the world youth begin to see hope for all at once.

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