Traveling Bone

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A Traveling Note to Brian and Corey: Friday, March 20, 2009 I Love ya Both;

Hi Corey, copy this to Brian.
You both seem to have gotten quite Traveling Bone, from myself or where, I’m not sure, but I hope you never see the ‘Highway’, as I learned it.

The Pictures in Boston, or was it Savannah, kind of joshing on the sleeping homeless guys? Yeah those.
For all the stories about your ‘Traveling Uncle Chris’, a lot of stories haven’t been told. They weren’t all that entertaining, all though I wouldn’t give it up for the world, I couldn’t do it again.

For most of 1975 I was ‘A Homeless Person’. It may have been pretty much voluntary, but I didn’t see a lot of choice. The months in the Park Range in Colorado living at 9200′ then moving up to 11,000′ when the snow began to melt were pretty cool. It would have been better with money, and if I hadn’t run out of food it would have been better for longer. Even then I would travel. I had given my address to many as Loveland – General Delivery. I don’t remember the Zip, but that’s where Arlene and I started. We left Detroit together. For her it was a 2 week vacation with a new car to pick up when she got home, she was in the middle of a divorce and back with her parents.

As a side story, I was able to sleep indoors occaisionally through 1975, maybe a few nights with a Lady, but about 2 weeks in jail for DUI, didn’t have bail money.

When I left Steamboat I headed for Globe Az, hoping for work. After my truck broke at Pueblo in a sandstorm I was hung up for a day. When I finally headed south on I-25 from Pueblo, I had taken all backroads from Rout County to Pueblo, I picked up a hitchhiker named ‘Chris’ actually. He was going to his sister’s place in San Diego. We combined our money and figured we could get to SD with enough for a couple tacos on the way. So I skipped Arizona. We got to his sisters in late August. His Sister invited me to party with them for the weekend, but I could tell they were just grateful that their Brother had got there; I’m sure they weren’t too impressed with my story as told by their Brother. I remember my relief when I crossed the border into New Mexico. I’m sure that impressed my friends Sister and her kids and husband.

Anyway, from then I lived on the street in my truck. My friends were Hookers, Pimps, Surfers (The Worst), and drugos, other street types like me and as I would find out later, undercover drug agents.

It actually was a great time, but I could tell it was going nowhere. I wasn’t doing serious drugs myself, but some pretty bad ‘Brown’ came in and I watched friends just kind of dissolve in front of my eyes. Soon after I joined the Navy. Best move I could have made. I may have ended up in prison if I had hung around there long.

If there is a moral to this story, (there isn’t), I would only hope you realize that Life is what you make for yourself.
When you see those folks that have hit hard times remember; ‘There but for the Grace of God go I.’

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