Phoenix, AZ
February 13, 2002
The Hapless, Homeless Guy
By Don Vermilyea
I exited the Greyhound bus Saturday afternoon, February 2nd with 60 pounds on my back and six miles to walk. A day off hadn't been mine for months, and I was suffering from sleep deprivation from 2,356 miles and 51 hours on the bus. During the last five or six hours of my bus ride reality started to settle in. I had first-time doubts and apprehension about this walk across America. I started thinking I must be insane to be dropped off far from home in Arizona where I knew no one and had only what was on my back for this long and dangerous walk through the desert at age 51. What's going to happen to me?

People weren't particularly friendly with me in Tucson and my pack felt terribly heavy. Those six miles felt like 600. During all my practice walking in Maryland I'd picked up $12.59 of change off the highways - six miles in Tucson yielded only four cents.

As I neared my destination (the Tucson Church of the Brethren) a young woman yelled out her car window at 40 mph, "You hapless, homeless guy!!" On the outside I took it all in stride, but on the inside I was indignant. I thought, "You got the guy part right, but forget the hapless, homeless stuff."

I continued to plod along and then changes started to happen. I'd like to tell you my pack got lighter, but that's not the truth. With what stuff I owned on my back I realized my home would be wherever I was welcomed or wherever I could find someplace that seemed safe. So maybe she was right on two out of three. I am homeless. And maybe even three out of three. I am hapless without my relationship with the Lord. Filled with pain, doubts, and fear this was me as I wound my way through downtown Tucson amongst a myriad of people trying to bum cigarettes off me (I don't smoke) or money to buy them (that's not happening).

I hoped before I reached my destination I'd bump into the young woman who had sped on by earlier so I could tell her she was right. It's me, the hapless, homeless guy. She and I still haven't bumped into each other yet. I finally reached the Tucson Church of the Brethren.

After spending Saturday evening through Monday morning at two different safe loving places and worshiping God with Christian brothers and sisters on Sunday I was renewed. Their sharing God's faith and love with me along with their acceptance of me was just what I needed for the long trek ahead.

One hundred solitary miles through the desert is no walk in the park. During one 42 mile stretch where there were no gas stations, houses, rest areas, phones, stores, water, etc. I felt strong in my weakness. Sleeping under wash bridges (dry creeks and rivers) or along the sides of the road with the cactus wasn't as lonely as it might have been. I carry a small radio for weather reports as sleeping under dry bridges is dangerous if a thunderstorm is happening 20 or 30 miles away. My pack is kept close by so the coyotes will have to deal with me if they want my food and I try to choose sleeping places where it appears others won't hassle me.

Finally I reached the Mesa, Arizona area and a Christian brother and sister's home. Six days of filth, sun, pain, thirst, and literally a quarter million steps were behind me. Safety, a shower, good food, clothes washing, and good company was all mine, all those things we take for granted. To be able to praise God with Christian brothers and sisters a second Sunday in a row was priceless.

I wondered why everyone didn't invite smelly, scruffy me into their home. You know, I'm the hapless, homeless guy. I wondered why they'd look the other way when they'd see me coming as I walked through their town or city. I'm a good person and wouldn't hurt anyone. Why me?

My wondering ended when I remembered my recent bus trip from Harrisonburg, Virginia to Tucson, Arizona. From Virginia to Dallas, Texas I had two seats all to myself. From Dallas to Tucson the bus was very crowded and a man who smelled of alcohol and vomit and looked unkept and scruffy sat next to me. I was reading my Bible and working on the message I was to deliver two days later. We said hi and then didn't speak for many hours.

I was uncomfortable being around this man who appeared homeless. I was also uncomfortable around the filthy homeless looking man who was sitting directly in front of me since Dallas who spent most of the time squirming around and scratching himself all over depositing his skin around.

A long bus ride is no fun. It's bearable with tow seats. It's less bearable with a fellow passenger next to me. It goes down hill if that passenger stinks and appears homeless. After a while I started asking this fellow human being questions. He was heading out west to join up with a large carnival as he did every year for 9 months. You'd think after living in a homeless community for 11 months I'd be less selfish and thrilled that someone would sit in the seat next to me I hadn't paid for. But, I wasn't. And now I know why others turn from me when I walk down America's highways.

DonTill the next time ...
in Christ's love,
P.S. 155 miles plus $4.42 so far

Don's Walk on the Web at:
www.brethren.org/genbd/witness/Walk.html