Meet Hippie and An Introduction
I wasn’t always a homeless man on the streets and living life on the road.
I wasn’t always moving town to town, city to city, state to state, in search of a foothold, success, or just a place to call home and feel accepted and loved.
My journey through homelessness began during my 25th year under the sun, having just lost an apartment in my hometown of Dayton, Ohio, slowly falling behind on rent because of my strong addiction (at the time) to alcohol. It was my first experience on the streets, and my landlord gave me little notice to vacate the property. Instead of looking into the eviction protocols and fighting to remain housed, I chose instead to accept my fate and make the best of it.
I was born Michael Anthony Glass an hour after midnight on May 28, 1987, and by age three found myself in children services, or foster care. I experienced some traumatic events in my youth, and at seven was adopted into what I would be my family. I grew up from this point on a small farm in a rural county, and developed the manners, morals, and ethics that I still possess at this day. (If I may add that, just because I don’t own my own house, vehicle, and “live on the streets,” doesn’t mean that I don’t possess outstanding character!) Neither parents drank alcohol, smoked, or abused any controlled substances. They both worked and took good care of the house and home.
I started working at 15 and continued to work until I graduated from high school and technical school. A month after graduation I was headed out for military bootcamp. I joined the Army and went overseas for Operation Iraqi Freedom.
I returned home unscathed, but I had emotional and mental wounds that are still unhealed. Soon I enrolled in college, attending evening classes off base. After a year I dropped out due to my alcohol problem. By 23 my drinking was so heavy that I lost my license and sold my vehicle to pay court fines and make ends meet. The drinking continued until I lost everything and ended up homeless.
I quickly adapted to my newfound existence on the streets, and oddly enough found it somewhat liberating.
Please understand: I am not glorifying “street life,” or trying to make surviving outdoors sound cool. I simply adapted to this “life” easily—it was emotionally, mentally, and physically stimulating, based upon my training and background. After four years (and many cities and states later) I ended up in a Tennessee jail and prison for burglary, and it was during my time incarcerated that honed my skill in writing. I was released in August 2020, and decided to walk all the way from Knoxville, TN, to Asheville, NC. It was there that I met my wife and soulmate.
We have been together since February of last year and I have faced a whole new challenge on the streets: marriage!
Currently I am writing articles and poetry to encourage, teach, enlighten, and share the stories of my fellow brethren of the homeless community and beyond. Thanks to Speak Up, my wife and I have become ambassadors in the fight to end poverty. We are able to encourage and strengthen others in our community (and beyond) to join and help us shed light on a cause that often goes ignored in our own land.
This piece below will be the first of many.
This is Hippie
By Michael Glass
My wife and I recently spent a day interviewing the homeless in Chattanooga, TN. We wanted to speak with ask their stories, perspectives, and opinions concerning their life on the streets, and the attitudes and treatment of the surrounding community and authorities.
We had left Asheville to come and visit family in TN for the holidays. A few days before Christmas we decided to interrupt our holiday and headed into Chattanooga to give a voice to the voiceless.
We began the morning at the Community Kitchen downtown for breakfast and coffee. We missed breakfast but got some coffee. After coming back out to the street to wait for the community resource building to open, we met “Hippie,” a shy, middle-aged man who stays right down the street from the kitchen. He asked that we not take his picture, but we were able to capture this picture of the “tent city” he camps in (see photo).
After introducing myself and wife as ambassadors of Speak Up, he opened up to us. He led us to his campsite, which he shares with many other homeless residents. I started by asking him how long he had been homeless—or as my wife usually states it, “housingly-challenged.”
Hippie informed us that he has been homeless for nine years and has a daughter who is currently on the streets of Chattanooga as well. He fears for her safety, and has even stopped using drugs and has been “clean” for the last eight months, working and saving his money so that he can make a better life for himself and his daughter.
He said his typical day starts off at 0730 for breakfast and coffee at the Community Kitchen, and if he needs any resources or medical care he waits until 0900 for those. He then walks over to the “Sally,” the name the locals gave for the Salvation Army building. There he stays until noon, snacking, drinking coffee, socializing, showering, and gathering additional resources. After noon, he goes to the public library if the weather is bad, or looks in person for part-time or “under-the-table” work. If time permits, he heads over to the “bridge,” a long, wooden-floored walkway spanning the Tennessee River. “There is a spot,” he said, “where some of us [homeless] go to hustle tourists and locals with our art...I usually get allI need each day doing that…”
I asked him about the extent of the growing “tent-cities” springing up all over the city, and his response was simple:
“The majority of us have nowhere else to go...family have disowned us or given up on us...the cops don’t even look twice so long as we don’t commit crimes or leave trash everywhere….the drugs are readily available and cheap and folks just get stuck out here.”
We thanked “Hippie” for his time and gave him a Speak Up card in hopes that he might get a Pursuit Pack and find a voice and work for himself.
 |
|