The Man Who Lives in the Parking Lot

A man lives in the parking lot.  Nobody knows how he first got there because the chain-link fence that surrounds the small lot was there first.  But he's there, inside his home of blue tarp.  A gate that would open the parking lot to cars exists,  if that is what the owner wanted.  He must not.  Does he even know somebody is living there?

Around my hometown, there are inner tent cities in the inner-city.  The people huddle in all manner of camping tents that are often surrounded by campfires, piles of trash, bicycles, grocery carts, and abandoned furniture.  But the parking lot near my home has only one occupant.  

I know someone is in there because I heard his voice once. Either he was talking on a phone or he had a visitor because he was ranting to someone about "the money."  But that is the only context I have for his conversation.  I did not stay to listen.  

If anybody minds that he lives in the parking lot, they have yet to make that known.  In fact, he may be granted the space by the owner of one of the stores that access the lot.  The building adjacent contains, two small restaurants, one wine shop, an optometrist, and an abandoned storefront.  

There are no cars parked in the parking lot.  Only the hump of a blue tarp in one corner. What holds it up cannot be determined.  It could be some sort of pole or two, a shopping cart, stacks of something, or tools like shovels and brooms.  Perhaps the occupant of the lot enters and exits through one of the rear doors from the businesses in front.  I've never seen anyone climb the chain-link fence.  Maybe the man in the parking lot stays under the tarp most of the time.  There is a "Porta Poddy" not too far away.  It's possible. 

The man who lives in the parking lot has found a solitary home.  Perhaps he is not lonely. He must be cold.  He is definitely a mystery.

More questions than facts exist about this situation.  

Worthwhile

 Even though it seems like half the country is in denial, we are in the middle of a pandemic that shows no signs of slowing up. In fact, if the statistics of the past week are any indication, the predicted "long dark winter" expected by many health professionals is at our doorstep. 

Historically, there will be many attempts to document the social history of this time.  That is, how are people faring in their day to day lives?  What kinds of changes have we adapted to, what do we now do and forget to do now that going outside means wearing a mask or not being able to use cash, or the diminished hours that many retail stores and restaurants have adopted?

Will the President and administration that refuses to take responsibility be elected to a second term?  Despite what the polls say, I think it's still possible that the Denier in Chief, with all his whining and voter suppression tactics, could still pull this election out of the jaws of defeat.  It will take time before anyone on any side breathes anything close to a sigh of relief about the outcome.   

No matter what the method, a voting booth, an envelope in a mailbox, driving your ballot to an official collection box, people are still voting in private.  They say one thing to the pollster and their family and friends and then turn around and vote their deepest fears and biases while alone.  That happens.  

And, just who are these undecided voters.  Anybody still undecided in this divisive atmosphere is some piece of work.  The choice couldn't be more clear.  So what accounts for their indecision.  If I may, let me offer an explanation.  F*E*A*R.   

Values Checklist:

They've been conditioned by decades of advertisements and unreliable sources.  They often claim they haven't done their research yet.  I wonder what that looks like?  Are those folks the same when it comes to choosing the color to paint a room, or buying a pair of shoes?

Some just may choose not to vote at all.  The perfect candidate does not exist.  That should be the mantra.   I've got an idea.  Let's have a nationwide values clarification activity.  Back in the early 70s when I began my teaching career, Values Clarification was all the rage.  We taught the concept of values as principles and ideas that people deemed worthwhile. It's important to have a Values Checklist, so people can be reminded of the concepts and principles that comprise their values. That was followed by clarification activities like scenarios that required people to rank order their values and then see where those choices conflicted with what other people thought.  Knowing what you value and why helps people make decisions they can live with.

Shelf Life

 My downsizing continues.  The new target is the release of some books I've been carrying around for decades.  Much of this cache comes from my college years in the late 1960s.  What better place to find a new home for some of this material than a small independent bookshop with the appropriate name of Revolution Books.  Actually, even though they have a good collection of political books and ephemera, some vinyl records, and an abundance of jigsaw puzzles, the store features a selective and eclectic selection of mostly used books.  

As you might surmise, this little store is an anomaly.  But it seems to be eeking out survival during this dark economic time.  The atmosphere of the store is welcoming, and the young couple that owns it are obviously living their dream.  

So I march in with 7 books in a paper grocery bag.  The woman is there; she gets excited about my books and quickly calls her husband.  He instructs her to photograph the books. She does.  After viewing the iPhone pic, he wants them all.  We strike a deal.  

Among the books, I sold was a rare little paperback from 1968.  Called Thoughts of the Young Radicals, it was on the reading list for a political philosophy class I took at UCLA that same year.  And what a year it was.  I've experienced nothing like it since, save 2020.  This little volume contained a series of essays originally published in the New Republic by the young radicals of the time.  Many of those folks, like Tom Hayden, and Stokley Carmichael are no longer alive, much less young. As I glanced through the book one more time before I placed it in the bag, I realized that it could be an invaluable resource for someone doing research on the period.  Included in that group of seven books was a book of letters written by draft resisters (not to be confused with draft dodgers) a book on Buddhism, and ...and...I can't recall the other 5.  That's a good thing because I'm trying hard not to hold onto books for the wrong reasons. 

After I got home, I thought of that class back in 1968.  The professor was interested in a term he coined, "radical liberal." He'd written a book by the same name, also on the reading list, and the discussion centered on how liberals must go one step further if any real change was to occur in American political institutions.  This was the year of two political assassinations, a stormy Democratic convention in Chicago, and the rise of the Black Panther Party.  I recalled how the final for that class was held on the same day as the California primary.  I'd written on the differences between Sen. Gene McCarthy and Sen. Robert Kennedy.  That night I watched in horror as Bobby was cut down shortly after winning the Democratic primary.  What a year.

I've got a feeling that I'll be making more trips to this little bookstore.  Not all my stuff will be sold, some will, no doubt, be donated.  The compensation is really knowing that my prized collection of now rare, aging,  well-traveled books found a good home.

And...Set Yourself Free

Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened

                                                    -Dr. Seuss

 I know I need to let go.  I've been trying for about 5 years now.  But I hold them in my hands, look at the parts, the old notes, the well-preserved folders...and then I just put them back until the urge hits again.  That's usually on a rainy day or a few months down the road.  

My file cabinet has slimmed down considerably, but I just can't seem to throw away everything even though I know that I'll never use these books or curriculum materials again.  I thought that a beginning teacher would want them.  But they don't even have classrooms anymore.  Nobody knows when onsite classes will return or what teaching will look like if and when this pandemic has passed.   So the task remains.  

But I have such good things to share.  On my last day of full-time teaching, I knew I'd be leaving behind all my classroom computer files and sets of books, and file cabinets full of great lessons, student work, and teacher resources.  So, I took two file folders and placed one copy of everything I thought was timeless or necessary not to forgot.  Some of that has helped supervise

beginning teachers.  It was a life preserver for some.  But I no longer do that.  Everything must go.

I'd love to have a ceremony of some sort, but I'm afraid most of these papers will be recycled or find their way to "free libraries" or the ultimate: the inside of a garbage bag.  There just isn't any demand for a teacher's well used and carefully collected materials.  

I suppose I could get aggressive and seek out some new owners.  That might prove, I'm afraid, more work and rather depressing getting hit with all those, "thanks, but..."

So face facts I tell myself, you're just going to have to set yourself free.

I think the deed should be done quickly, lest I become one of these hoarders who must filter everything in the garbage before deciding to let go of nothing.  I am going to do this.  What's the worst that could happen?  All physical objects can be replaced, and if not something new and perhaps better will take its place.  

So what is this really about?  I know.  Losing a chunk of your identity?  Definitely.  But then we are all about loss along the way. Aren't we. I fancy myself at the stage of life where I'd like to emulate Gandhi.  I think he only had three things when he died. His clothing, his glasses, and a little statue of the three monkeys who saw, heard, or spoke no evil.  Now that's a worthwhile goal.  I'll never get there but trying to will definitely help.  I've heard it said that in the end, the only thing we really have is our memories.  Mine are carefully filed away and available on demand.