Saturday, November 5, 2011

House-less-ness

    I’ve been virtually house-less several times in my life, yet I’ve never been homeless. There is a huge difference. I guess it’s a state of mind. I’ll give you an example. When I graduated High School, I had several months before I had to be at college. And the house sold really fast, so I really didn’t have any place to live. Not that, that was a problem. I mean, I did have money.
    I didn’t want to rent and apartment for just a few months, just to move again into the school dorms, when classes started in the fall. (school rules that you live in the dorms for at least 2 semesters). I really had no plans.
    I decided to move all my stuff to a storage unit near the college, which was in a different state (Kansas).  I stored my new car. I had an old Chevy conversion van that was for sale, so I figured that I could sell it anywhere right? The van had a nice bed, and a bean bag chair, shag carpet, and a moon roof. I had a port-a-potty and a camp stove. I also had a nice little duel power refrigerator that I had purchased for my dorm room. And of coarse I had my backpack, tent, and my ready bag, which I always carry.
    I owned a new car, a Honda hatchback that my father arranged for graduation, I got the car, and the payment book, the van was just a - for profit “project”.  Don’t get me wrong, the car was a wonderful gift. My father ordered the car, and made the down payment, I got great payments, I was extremely grateful. And it was a great car that I drove to death, over a decade of service. But used transportation was my business at the time. So I owned a motorcycle, a van, and the new Honda.
    When I finally took off. I didn’t really have a destination. I just went south. I quickly decided to go to the ocean. I love the ocean. It was summertime, where better to camp but the beach. I could have gone to the mountains, I‘m quite at home in the mountains, but I really like the beach better.   
    I feel a little guilty now looking back on that summer, I mean I just left my friends. I said goodbye, but I didn’t even think about asking any of them to go with me. I guess they were all thinking about their destinations. My girlfriend was going to school somewhere else. There wasn’t any discussion about me following her, so I don’t really know why I feel guilty now for not including her in my plans. But I still feel a bit guilty to this day.
    I had a clear shot to Galveston, so I headed for the island. I parked on the water way and sat on the beach for a few weeks.
    In the late 1970’s Galveston was a pretty rough place. Bars, strip clubs, and porno theaters everywhere. Sailors and Hookers a plenty. It’s not that way anymore. They have really cleaned it up. Now its a family Vacation spot, water parks and historic tours, tourist shops and museums everywhere. It’s no longer a degenerates playground. It was a fun place for a week or two, but that gets old pretty damn quick. It’s kind’a like a zoo, it’s fun to watch the action, but you really don’t want to get into the cage with them.
    When I finally had enough fun, I pulled up camp and set off down the coast. The next place I came to, that I liked, was Corpus Christi. I went out to the Island and stayed there the rest of the summer.
     No TV, and way before cell phones, absolutely no bills. I was completely “off the grid”.  The occasional beach party, movie, restaurant-bar. It didn’t cost me much to live there. I ate out only a few times the whole summer. I’d make a campfire at night and I’d fish or swim during the day. I even tried surfing. I really had it made. One day I caught so many crabs that I had to give away two 10 gallon buckets full. I really enjoyed that!
    And after 30 plus years I still long for that experience. even though I was alone, I never felt alone, there was always someone within eye-shot.
    I’ve had several excursions into the wild since then but nothing that matches that experience.

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