When my family arrived in Richmond, VA in 1975, we learned our first lesson about the city. Amongst us, we can collectively understand and communicate in around nine to ten languages. Each language has specific words for certain things. For instance, when abroad in Africa, Europe, or Asia, asking for “laundry detergent” result in confusion, but asking for “Tide” would get you what you need. Similarly, the word “Kebrit” means “matches” from Slavic countries to Africa and India. One day, my father, brother, and I were in an elevator in Sanger Hall when a large African American lady joined us on a lower floor. As we continued speaking, she seemed panicked and started pressing all the buttons. The elevator stopped a floor above the lobby, and she exclaimed, “Lord, the devil be here, in these men!! They be speaking in tongues!!” We were left just as confused, thinking, “WTF.” Welcome to Richmond, Virginia.

The small room at the inclement weather shelter last year yielding a surprising host of characters which whom, I now interact with. Jimmy, a Latino from one of the barrios of New York City approved on my radar from that room . He is a man about 5’8 that hovels along because of a much postponed and needed hip replacement surgery. In the start of the season he had an impressive leather jacket and kept himself up well. Over the past almost six months he has slowly descended to the level of the others who sit at that underpass. It is only after the shelter closed did the wolves surround him and one of them pounced hard. Being functionally, illiterate he trusted a man called Marlo. Marlo, an African American scoundrel helped Jimmy get his social security and disability payments. Then Marlo, helped himself to about $4000.00 of your tax dollars ear marked for Jimmy. Marlo, was seen sporting new clothing and expensive new sneakers. See Jimmy entrusted Marlo with the pin number of said card. Oops. Now that he reapplied and is getting a replacement card and funds the pack of wolves stay close to him. In ten days he will get a replacement card with $6700.00 of your tax dollars on it and those wolves are drooling faster than the waters of the James River roll past the city of Richmond. During, this time I got to know Jimmy a little better. One day we sat, at the underpass and he lamented to me “what has happened to me”. He said that all his family is gone now except for on aunt who lives in New York City. Moreover, if she found out what he was doing she would load up the car with cousins to come fetch and bet some sense into him. Continuing, he told me how he ended up being homeless. This where William of Ockham philosophy sorta kinda takes over. Apparently, the apartment that Jimmy was living in so long ago,burt down and some how, some where, someone got a hold of his wallet. The person in question went to the motor vehicles department and registered 11 vehicles on to Jimmy’s name. With those vehicles came a mountain of past due parking tickets, one hundred and twenty thousand dollars of New York City parking tickets. Fleeing, the “city”, he ended up here in Virginia working as a farm hand. The farmer in question paid cash asked no questions and gave him a room. In exchange, Jimmy trusting sole he is let the farmer declare him a family dependent on his State & Federal income tax filings. This continued for approximately 10 years, until one day one of the horses he was training bucked and kicked him. That accident put Jimmy into the hospital with many broken bones including his hip. On more than one occasion he summons an ambulance to take him to this or that hospital for pain treatment of the hip. Admitting to me that he requests an ambulance because he waddles into any hospital on his own accord it would be 4-5 hours before he would be seen by doctor. An ambulance gets you right into the door ahead of everyone. This morning he walked up , well if one could call it walking, and asked me what he should do when he gets the replacement card in ten days. I told him to run like hell and even better leave town, I hope he takes such council to hart.

A message in bottle came to me about the last story, “that’s life”.

“What a sad bunch you are surrounded by!”

Unsure if I should or should not get agree I just simply did not respond to it. It’s true in part that they are a bit downtrodden and one can only shake ones head at it all. two things came out of it. For one after thinking about it I recognize that two or three years ago I was not different as a member of the “silent majority “. Passing judgmental perceptions on those I am amongst now. So, basically the statement is dependent on your perception of other people from the perspective course of life one is in. Secondly, a rebuttal responds came to me while I was laying there under the stars. It goes like this: Absolutely, true they are a “sad bunch”, your paying for it. Depending on which servay one believes, the homeless, handicap and the addict cost 3/4 of the population and average of $35 to 70,000.00 dollars a year. Why aren’t you getting your money’s worth from those you vote for? Tomorrow is the last day of the month. All across this country the disability payments, social security checks, and the food stamp also know as SNAP refill the accounts of these sad individuals just to start the cycle all over again because the silent majority likes to be left with their out of mind out sight precious preconceived beliefs. Automatically, with out much questions they press the reset button, so they can set it and forget about the homeless problem they are completely, complicit for…

Thank you for your time and consideration