Homeless Guy....

   As I have mentioned a couple of times previously, I was the manager of a 7Eleven in Orlando, Florida. It had its perk's and disadvantages, but one thing that always comes back to me was a particular gentleman that would come to the store every night.  As I remember it, his name was Richard and he had a dog.  I don't remember the dog's name, but I remember that Richard loved that dog.  Every night he would come into the store with the money he had obtained through out the day and buy his dog a can of dog food.  The dog was on a blanket in a grocery cart and Richard would push him every where they went.     

   The furry companion was a hound dog mix of some kind, but was just happy to ride around in the grocery cart.  He was well taken care of, and even though Richard looked like he had been dragged through hell and back, the dog was very clean and very healthy looking.  
   This was back in the early 90's and we made our own sandwiches every morning and threw away the ones that were headed out of date at night.  When I was on nights and Richard would come in with his dog, I would let him have a sandwich that was going to be thrown out anyway and he would talk about things as he consumed the sandwich of the evening.  Most of the time it was about how things were in Orlando, or his opinion on politics.  One night though, after months of buying cans of dog food and receiving free sandwiches, he told me how he got to the status he lived day in and day out.
   See, Richard was not always what you would call a transient, hobo, or bum.  He had not started out his life with goals to be a homeless street walker with his only companion being his dog.  As he told it, he actually was once a very popular person.  Someone of major influence in the day to day lives of those of the more wealthier crowds.  Not sure how many, but I would hope it took at least 5-10 yrs for Richard to get to the state he was in.  He told me that he actually had lived most of his life in New York, and even though it was expired, he still had his New York driver's license.  Even after seeing his drivers license and business card, his last name still escapes me just like the dog.  I do remember one thing that was on his business card that struck me at first.  Below his name, in smaller print, were the words 'Stock Broker'.  
   At a happier point in Richard's life, he had been a father and husband.  He   had loved and was loved, and it was taken away in a last breath.  His family and his mind were taken from him by a drunk driver.  In one horrible accident, the once proud and well situated young man lost everything, including his will to continue.  He gave up his house that was no longer a home, his job that no longer held its challenge, and his life that no longer had meaning.  From what he said, his only belongings he had were kept in a storage unit near by.  He had pictures of his family he kept in his pocket, but you couldn't tell what had happened if he didn't tell you.  All you could see from the outside was a dirty, crazy shell of a man that cared deeply for his four legged companion.
   Every once in a while I think of Richard and wonder if anyone ever missed him.  If anyone knew what became of him after the tragedy that drove him to a life on the streets, and as I sit here typing this out I wonder if he is still alive, or did he ever find peace....

Rides...

   So in previous blogs I have talked about the many different jobs I have had, and the several addresses where I have received mail.  There are a couple of other things I have changed several times, one of those being a mode of transportation.  You don't really think about how you are getting places until you don't have a way to get places.  You really begin to appreciate any mode of transportation once you have walked to the store and back pushing a double stroller.  Not so bad on the initial trip, but the return can be quite interesting when you have 10 plastic grocery bags tied precariously around the stroller in various places.  And once home you pick one son up out of the stroller just as you see the stroller flip back from the weight of the bags with your other son still inside.  He of course is laughing, but you feel that sudden panic hoping he is okay.  Well, shall we begin....

   Of course like other kids of the 70's I started out with a bike with a banana seat.... 

 

   Mine was blue and had a really thick back tire because I would skid and ruin regular tires, but basically looked like the one in the picture above.  As the years continued, I would change the type of bike I was riding, but pretty much always had one as back up transportation.

   When I was eleven, my father bought my older brother Paul a new motorcycle to replace his older one.  Paul had been in an accident on his old bike, breaking his leg in two places, so he needed a bigger faster model...LOL.  And I was 'given' the older one to ride.  It was a Suzuki 50cc street bike and it was the most awesome thing I had ever ridden.

  

   Understand I was eleven and it was the early 80's.  Not sure what ever happened to the little motorcycle.  I rode it around the neighborhood a few times and then it quit working.  I don't think my mom really wanted me riding it anyway, because when I inquired about fixing the bike, it never ran again as far as I knew.  And since it was a kick start, it didn't take long for me to give up trying to get it running myself.

   My next mode of non-human powered transportation was another 2 wheeled awesomeness supplied by my Step-dad David Hunter.  I was 16 and living in Okeechobee with my brother Paul.  (That's another story for another time)  And as a surprise my parents show up with this baby in the back of the family pick-up for my birthday.

     It was a great bike, and got a lot of use and abuse.  I didn't get a whole lot of use out of it at first because I seemed to have trouble passing the written test for my permit.  I still drove it around the area where I lived, but never strayed too far because getting busted without a license (as I learned later in life) is not a good thing.  Once I got back to Orlando I passed the permit written test and was able to utilize the motorcycle a lot more.  Also around this time, my mom decided my sister Amy and I should go to a Baptist private school.  This particular school was a about 8 miles away and they didn't offer a bus, so there was a time where Amy and I would get on the Rebel and ride across town to school and back.  Since this happened to be a Baptist school and they believed females should only wear skirts or dresses, Amy would put jeans on under her skirts so she could ride the motorcycle.  When we would get to school, she would quickly pull off her jeans in the parking lot.  


   One time Amy decided she was going to get a ride home from someone else, that might have to do with the burn she got on her ankle from the exhaust when I was messing around on the motorcycle.  Anyway, I was being my normal immature self behind the bus that was taking the schools football team over to the practice field.  Popping wheelies and 'cat-walking' the motorcycle up and down the road while the bus was preparing to leave seemed like a good idea until.... As I brought the motorcycle up and began cat-walking it towards the bus, I realized to late that I didn't give enough room to bring it back down in time before I hit the back of the bus.  Next thing I know I am laying on the ground and watching the motorcycle shoot up the back of the bus, lay over and land back on top of me.  If it hurt I didn't notice it, the door on the back of the bus flew open and the football team poured out.  Lifting the motorcycle off of me, they were asking if I was alright, but I was so embarrassed I just jumped on the motorcycle and drove off.  I found out a few days later I had to pay the school $90 for a busted taillight and one of the football players gave me a small plate that I also knocked off that said 'diesel' as a memento.  After that accident, the motorcycle never really ran right, and I decided to sell it.  That didn't please my Stepdad, and I still feel bad about that situation.


   One of my first four wheeled modes of transportation was an awesome little ride known as a 1984 Dodge Daytona Turbo.  I was 18 when I bought it in 1988 for a little over $3200.  And it looked a whole lot better than the one below, but it was gold colored like this one.  She could run like a scalded dog and was easy to control on curves.  Which was a blessing and a curse.  One time, as I was making one of my several trips from Orlando to Okeechobee, which was on a little traveled two lane road that was constructed with banked curves.  

   

   The deputy sheriff that pulled me over didn't look thrilled at all at my ability to maintain my vehicle at such a high rate of velocity.  The conversation started with, 'Boy, do you know how fast you were going?'  He had clocked me running 137 mph through the trees, but finally clocked me at 107mph as I slowed to come around the curve.  He said he had to wait until he could see me before he could get a real speed on the radar.  After staring at me for what seemed like forever, he made me get out of my car and get into the back of his cruiser.  We then took a little trip to the closest Sheriff's Annex.  He sat me down and asked where I was going in such a hurry.  I said I was meeting someone in Okeechobee.  Then he asked, 'What would you think if you hit a tree at that speed?'  Seriously, what would I think?  I really don't think I would have time for a thought before I hit the tree, but I did not say this out loud.  After threatening me with jail time for Wanton/Wreckless driving he took me back to my car and gave me a ticket for $244 and said he never wanted to see me again.  Of course I had to make up the time I lost visiting with Mr Deputy Sheriff.


.....I am going to leave off here for now... I will blog about more Rides at a later date....  Just a hint of the next mode of transportation...  1967 Ponycar...

Oldest...

   I don't really think about things that led up to it, but I am really happy they happened even though it made serious changes to my life.  It was 21 yrs and approximately 36 hours ago when I took my then girlfriend to the obstetrician for a check up.  When the doctor checked her out she was dilated, and he felt it was time to get things moving along.  He sent us to the hospital in a little town called Avon Park, FL.  At this time in my life I was living with my pregnant girlfriend and her pregnant mom in Okeechobee, FL, but the hospital in Okeechobee didn't offer obstetrics so you had to go to nearby towns to give birth.  So, we arrived at the hospital at around 11am on Monday April 1st, yes April Fool's Day, see the irony?  


   The hospital was very small, and old fashioned.  Just one story and not much space for visitors.  When we arrived they got us all checked in and started her IV.  Once everything was set, they began a pitocin drip to get things moving along for the delivery.  At first things seemed to be going great, but when the contractions got really bad she started fighting against them and dilation began shrinking.  A few hours in, and after taking a few turns with her mother visiting the in labor patient I stayed for a while in the 'labor' room with her.  I guess her mom was wanting to know what was happening, so she went outside and around to the window of the 'labor' room.  And since this was an old hospital, the windows were the crank out kind and were open for cool air in the room.  It wasn't long and the nurse and I started smelling smoke.  The nurse went to the window and told my eventual mother in law that she could not smoke near the open window.


   Around 6pm my mother and stepfather showed up to the birth.  Along with them was my little sister and roughly 18 other people over the next couple of hours.  We got hungry and thirsty during this waiting game and took time to  partake of the wonderful array of vending machines.  The main machine we dumped most of our coinage into was the coffee machine that dispensed little cups of decent hot chocolate for a quarter a cup.  

   It ended up getting really late and she was still fighting the contractions so everyone was looking to find a place to sleep.  Of course the only waiting area in this hospital was near the entrance and was very small.  So a lot of people went and passed out in cars, while some tried to get comfortable in the little chairs in the waiting room.  My sister's boyfriend tried to get freaky with her best friend in the parking lot, but otherwise it was an uneventful night.  Again the next day dragged on and I think she was getting tired, because the contractions began winning again.  And around 5:15pm we got to a crowning, while I was holding one leg and the nurse was holding the other.  At this point they put her on a gurney and transported her across the hall to the 'delivery' room.  A room from what I saw when they opened the door looked like an OR.  I couldn't go in because I never finished lamaze class, so no diploma no delivery.  

   At 5:38pm on April 2nd Dustin Charles was born into the world.  He looked like a football, 8lbs 15oz football.  It's amazing how you can love someone so much, that's only been alive a few minutes.  Once you have children, you realize exactly how much you will sacrifice for someone other than yourself....

Employment

  As you sit there reading this little tid bit of information that is a part of me, I want you to think back to your very first job. Maybe you had a paper route as a kid or didn't get your first job until high school. You could have started in a family business or flipping burgers in a fast food restaurant. What ever your initial endeavor may have been, how many jobs have you had since then?

  Some of you may still be in that first job, and others may have had to get through a couple different things before settling into your career.  Well whatever your destination in employment may have been and no matter what route you took to get to where you are, I have quite a story of my own.


  My first real job was when I was 14 and living in Winter Garden, FL.  I was fortunate enough to look older and hung around Hungry Howie's pizza until they finally gave me a job.  I thought it was the coolest thing in the world to be getting paid to make pizza and after a while I learned all the different aspects of running the restaurant.  With an unofficial title of Asst Manager, I was able to go in and open up in the morning or close at night with paperwork and all.  With running shifts, it meant I had to tell people twice my age what to do.  I was responsible for prep work, ordering supplies, making pizzas, and handling cash and daily paperwork.  My paychecks weren't huge making $2.95 an hour, but it helped my mom a little.


  The trip from my first job at that little pizza place on the corner in a small suburb of Orlando to being a Personal Assistant/Certified Surgical Technologist for an Orthopedic Surgeon today has been a long and twisty road.  As you look over my past work history not only you see a numerous amount of jobs, but the variety is quite outstanding.  Starting out in food service was a no brainer.  Pizza was just the beginning, and I hit all the major pizza places, Domino's...Pizza Hut...Little Caeser's a few times...Papa John's...Sbarro's...and Godfather's


  Of course with food service you have to hit the mainstream, including McDonald's...Taco Bell...Wendy's...Burger King...Subway... and Arby's.  But there were also some not so well known like Captain D's and Flamer's Burgers.  At one point, I was going to open a Sobik's sub shop in a mall food court, but the financing fell through and it never got anywhere.


  Then there was the retail side of things.  Wal-mart, K-mart, Joann Fabrics, and convenient stores.  I was an Asst Manager for 7-Eleven at a little neighborhood store in Orlando, where I was held up 4 times in a 3 month period.  At one point I sold Christmas stockings at a kiosk in the middle of a mall.  It was part of the job to write the name on the stocking with Elmer's glue and glitter.


  Some other job choices I checked out while I was trying to raise a family could be seen as questionable.  I worked briefly as a 'doorman' at a club where the patron's were mostly men and clothing was less then necessary for the women on stage.  Another employment opportunity I had that didn't land on any resume was at a video rental store.  The only thing this store had in common with your local Blockbuster rental was it had tapes to rent.  It was a 24 hour rental establishment and if it was legal porn we offered it.  I never knew there were so many different categories in porn, or the clientele that rented it.  I would have people stop in on their way to church to drop off their 'selections' from the previous night.  It got me through school, but I don't think I would want another job that has to have a sign on the bathroom door that says, 'If you are in the restroom longer than 15 minutes we are calling the police'.


  My first job in healthcare was as a Medical Lab Assistant.  I work as a Specimen Processor for Quest Diagnostics.  It was my job to prepare bodily fluids to be tested for various reasons.  After a year I decided I wanted something more.  I remembered that on the same floor where I took my MLA classes was the Surgical Technologist program.  I applied and was granted an interview with the instructor.  Her name was Betty Arnett and she had a definite passion for the role of a CST(Certified Surgical Technologist).  This passion and discipline was what she intended to instill on her students.  The year I spent in her class taught me more than just about the medical aspect of my career choice.  I learned about responsibility, confidence and self respect.  I took everything and hit the ground running, but with running can come stumbling and I did that.  I went through several hospitals over the next 6 yrs.  Everything from Trauma One Centers down to quaint Ambulatory Surgery Centers.  After years of experience and having done at least one surgery on every part of the body, both in every age group and gender I settled down at hospital that was world renowned for its Total Joint Surgeons and Colorectal Care.  I had found my niche and its now the longest job I have ever had.  On my third anniversary I made a big deal and bought Arby's for everyone.  I am now working on year number eight and have moved from working in the OR all the time to working for one of the Total Joint Surgeons. I get to work with the patients in the office setting as well as assisting in surgery.

Hungry Howie's     *McDonald's     Wendy's     *Burger King

Taco Bell     *Subway     Domino's     Papa John's     Pizza Hut

Captain D's     Flamer's Burgers     Sobik's Subs     Big Lake Restaurant

Stockings,Inc     Walgreen's     CVS     Kmart     *Wal-Mart

Big Foot Convenient store    *7-Eleven     Jiffy Lube     Exotic Video

Crazy Girl's     Sbarro's pizza     *Little Caeser's     Arby's  

Godfather's pizza     Orlando Regional Medical Center

Health Central Medical Facility     Wishard Memorial Hospital

Joann Fabrics     St Francis Hospital     Columbus Regional Hospital

RN Specialties     Quest Diagnostics     St Vincent Hospital

South Emerson Surgery Center     Door to Door perfume sales

Volunteers of America     ABC Fine Wine and Spirits
Winn-Dixie   Sand Lake Hospital

  I would really like to elaborate on so many of the things I have seen in all my careers, but I would never get this posted if I tried.  Hopefully one day I will get around to sharing some of the more interesting things.  And as far as my careers in the future, the only change I would make is becoming a Nurse to enhance the job I currently have.  Otherwise I am happy right where I am....

Welfare...

   As far as I am concerned, welfare is meant to assist you in times of need.  I don't believe it was ever meant to be your total income.  When I first started out with my first wife and 2 small boys, there was a time that we utilized the welfare system.  Both my sons were born on the medicaid system, and benefited from the formula, cereal and milk that we picked up from the store with a W.I.C. check once a month.  And even though I always had a job, we qualified for the food stamps.  
   Let me tell you, the neat little 'ebt' card welfare recipients get now a days is no where as embarrassing as pulling out your booklet of food stamp coupons.  Every cashier always looked at you like you should just kill yourself now and save the tax payers money.

A little sample of Food Stamp Coupons

  The most embarrassing time happened when we were visiting my ex-in laws in Jacksonville, FL.  They were pretty comfortable financially and lived in a neighborhood to match.  While we were there we decided to run up to the local grocery store to get some things for lunch.  When I went to check out, the cashier thought I was trying to pull a fast one with fake money.  She had never seen food stamps before, but knew there was a button on her register that was labeled FOOD STAMP.  After 2 managers and another cashier pulled out an instruction booklet from the back office, they figured out how I could spend my food stamp coupons.  They actually joked about how it was a good learning experience for them.  That day I swore I was going to find a way to get off of any kind of assistance and never go back.
   So, to get on assistance was quite an undertaking.  I had to take a day off work because it was a whole day deal.  We would take the Orlando city bus to the welfare office in a neighboring suburb called Pine Hills.  This particular route was one of the few that required a double bus, which was basically two buses connected by what looked like an accordion. 

Using this as a sample of the double bus

   The bus itself was not bad, but being the only 4 white people on the bus seemed a little over whelming.  Then when you finally got to the office, it was a very painful process to go through 4 times a year.  Oh, and to add insult to injury while we stood there in the Florida heat, so hot people were selling cold soda for $2 a can, other welfare recipients were pulling into the parking lot to get in line for there monthly allotment.  Driving brand new Caddies and Buicks unnoticed by anyone that it should matter too.  

   There were times we found ourselves living in different parts of the state and my first wife went in to the local office in Okeechobee to update some information.  As soon as the case worker learned we were not living in the same house she tried to get my first wife to sign up for monetary assistance to help with bills and rent.  And to subsidize this assistance they were going to hunt me down and garnish my wages.  The wages that were already paying bills and such.

   Welfare has its place, and is a good thing, but I think it has become over abused and a source of income instead of assistance....

Home is where the heart is....

   I have lived in many different places over the years, from houses to apartments, mobile homes to a garage.  Where I live now is the best place I have ever laid my head to sleep.  Yes it took me a long time to get to where I am now, but the work was worth it.  To some, my house is pretty simple and minor compared to others, but I Love my castle just the same.   Saying this is the best place I have lived in gives sign to the many other structures I have called home. 

   Of course I started out in a great home in the wonderful state of Maine.  My parents had made a home in a strong house near the ocean surrounded by a forest of trees.  It was where my life began and I spent the first 8 yrs of life.  Where I made my first best friend Brent, and where I gashed my foot open on broken soda bottles that I had broken just because I could.  Cutting my foot did help decide the new family car, since I bled all over the backseat of the station wagon my mom was test driving.  It was all I knew as a home until my parents decided it would be a good idea to move to Florida.  Over the next 8 yrs of living with my mom, we lived in several houses, duplexes and mobile homes. 

   One place was in a town called Tangerine.  Basically, a blip on the side of a highway in the middle of nowhere.  It was a duplex surrounded by an orange grove that was inhabited by wild dogs.  You had to be careful if you went out into the grove because the dogs were no where near domesticated and were always looking for food.  My little sister and I attended a school mostly attended by kids from the local grove workers that were mexican immigrants.  So there was a lot of spanish going on around you and you didn't understand a thing.  We didn't stay there long,  but there are a few memories, good and bad I still retain from that blip.

   Another point of interest was a house my mom rented on the corner of 23rd St and Woods Ave in Orlando.  We were a little over a block from a main road known as Orange Blossom Trail.  A road filled with strip clubs and prostitutes.  That life normally stayed out on the trail, but one night a hooker was being stabbed by an unknown assailant and my mom ran out and yelled at the man to stop what he was doing.  The guy ran off and my mom called 911.  Another glimpse into the neighborhood we lived in, I was the only white kid in 6th grade.  Talk about pick your friends carefully.  Oh and as a side note: Don't pass gas in class when one of the top ten r&b songs at the time is She Dropped a Bomb on me.

   At the age of 14, I was living with my Mom and Sister Amy in a quadraplex in Winter Garden, Florida that was kind of behind a strip mall.  It was owned by a middle eastern couple who also owned an ice cream shop a few miles away.  It was also a couple blocks from my first place of employment, Hungry Howie's Pizza.  It was the place I learned a lot about life.  My first boss Kenny was an 18 yr old guy who was learning about becoming a man, and I was watching from the sideline.  Of course I wasn't only watching the good side of his education.  I was a freshmen in Jr High, and trying to do my own in school, but my main life was happening in that little pizza place in a suburb of Orlando.  This was where I met the young lady that not only took my virginity, but gave me gonorrhea in my eye.  I was an asst mgr and busting out pizzas.  Telling people two and three times my age what to do.  While we were living in this place, my mom ended up needing to have surgery and I had to stay with my older sister Chrissy for a while.  During this stay I had my first chance to drive a car.  I ran to the store for Chrissy and when I pulled back into her apartment complex some kids ran out in front of me.  When I turned to avoid them I accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake and slammed into my moms car.  Ooops!

   For the next couple of years I bounced back and forth from Okeechobee to Orlando.  Met my first wife in Okeechobee, ended up becoming a father and made a 'home' in the garage of my future mother-in-law's house.  After surviving that we packed up and headed back to Orlando.  One of the places we lived in was a 12x60 trailer.  To call it a mobile home would be too nice.  It was in an over cramped trailer park right off good ol' Orange Blossom Trail. But it was a place we could afford while I went to school.  Just some of the amenities included the kitchen counter made out of a piece of plywood with a sink cut into it.  As a bonus there was a piece of fabric tacked across the front to cover the huge hole in the floor under the sink.  Yes you could see the ground under the trailer by moving the fabric.  Our next door neighbors were a gay couple, and their trailer was 5 feet away from ours.  When they stepped out their front door they were looking in our living room window.  We could have evenings of conversations without leaving our trailers.  There was a scary she-man hooker that would stand out at the entrance of the trailer park and actually get picked up.  People would walk around from trailer to trailer and offer to buy food stamps from anyone who was willing.  The going rate at the time was $10 cash for $20 in food stamps.  One cold night I went to get something out of the car and noticed a young girl walking around in about nothing.  Obviously realizing why she was out this late, wearing as little as she was, I offered her some hot chocolate.  She sat on front step enjoying the warm drink and told me what I figure is the truth about how she ended up where she was and where she planned to go.  I do wonder if she ever got where she was headed.

   There are several other places I have called home over the years, and I may revisit this subject again at some point, but for now this is all I have....