Category Archives: travel

‘I’d go a round if I was you…’

the bumper to bumper traffic on Dickerson Pike is, at the best of times really rather bad.

it’s a long hot dusty road.

well traversed by the lost…

the lonely…the lookin’.

there is no sidewalk.

walk the tight rope.

only a treacherous semi dirt crumbled tarmac with an ankle bustin’ precipice.

its loud.

we’re almost up the hill.

our home on our backs splutters and dies.

what once would have freaked us out merely causes us to smile.

at each other.

now we prepare.

a caravan meant not for many a days journey.

 a 420 big block with a twelve gallon tank.

“are you sure we are out?”

but block she does.

a full lane.

Port side.

cars pass by. furiously.

drivers rev engines, irritate and raw from the trouble we’re in.

not us.

their’s the inconvenience.

horn’s honk. few people smile.

one gallon proves too small. and flatter land is sought.

 stoppin’ barely of gleamin’ used car lots

and bright yellow chain fence, short.

a red faced salesman stands hands on hip and disapproves.

more fuel is needed. fetched from a down the road.

five o’clock to wish they were home.

yell and groan. honk and squeal.

the light goes green to red. yet cars stand still.

now this should work. more fuel in the beast.

turn the engine quick.

lets get out of this fix.

oh no, one thing more….

the ignition goes click

hard times on dickerson pike

hard times on dickerson pike

….reflections on a retro life on the roads of Nashville, in an antique motorhome with vernon rust folk-rockslinger


lieblich

lieblich by THE GRAFFITI HUNTER
lieblich, a photo by THE GRAFFITI HUNTER on Flickr.

my graffiti hunting days have taken me far and wide. nowadays I have the time to unhurriedly sift through thousands of old files on flickr, find the best of the best, crack my knuckles and get down to the business of re-living and writing about such a ‘once odd and unique obsession’. from the simplest of stickers on a lamp post, to a freight train waiting on the tracks or, my favourite, the isolated or abandoned place so out of the way, only the artists know where to go…

this cool find was back in ’07 Weimar, Germany


beautiful to a fault…

no fault line by bird 2012

my first apartment in San Francisco happened to be in the Marina and had rooftop access just in case there was the odd nice sunset or something. the Marina is built on a landfill in The Bay, sort of like cereal in a box, so you feel any and every earthquake activity…hmmm, reminds me of ‘contents will settle after shipping’. I had left hurricanes in Florida and enjoyed my first real rattler (a 4.8) at 0400 when my pictures fell off the walls…

the golden gate

the golden gate

 


people watching people

thats fast. golden gate park

thats fast. golden gate park

there’s always something going on in

Golden Gate Park

or on the streets

of San Francisco…

it’s a Love fest weekend

or a Peace  party gathering

people getting together

to enjoy watching people

completely free,

life breathing creative spirits

celebrating being alive

and without my camera

 I’d miss moments like this…

1468213863_33c19bc89d_z


buyer beware

I’ve always detested the expression ‘buyer beware’
coz it usually means some poor bastard has signed a contract while simultaneously dropping their drawers and bending over…

plot:

high energy couple walks in to a cellular store in music city, Nashville USA
they tell the personable salesman that they are artists, movie makers & composers
they need a service, MOBILE (to mean they spend a good deal of time on the road…)
that supports their work, their lifestyle…

for once in their lives…money is no object

not a problem Sir…
maximum unlimited everything

- Great.
the couple are so excited…

even the deposit and initial gouging barely unnerve’s our heroes

second billing cycle…

to settle account: $1400…

now money flips from being of no object to a very important one

why? why? why?

frantic call to customer service.

quick…where’s the 35 page, tiny densely printed contract.

data usage = 74Gb

‘customer service’ sounding like dad…

have you two been watching movies?

Err…YES, of course

its kinda what we do

well…we dont recommend that.

but, it says in the small print
on page 26

DATA SERVICES: PERMITTED USES

item #IV:
may use for UPLOADING downloading,

AND (GETTA LOAD OF THIS)

STREAMING of audio, video, games…

excuse me ???

nah, we always warn customers don’t watch movies…NEVER

folks, JUST DON”T DO IT

one flick will use 12Gb

WHAT!!!!

but the lady at american cellular said

you’ll never scratch the 10G allowance each month

warning, you are super dangerously close to the maximum data usage allowed…

we queried our dutiful sales person

she even fixed our phone so the text messages would stop

final scene:

in a flash the couple decides happily,

no, ecstatically

that really one monthly bill is quite frankly one too many anyway

please connect us to financial services

yes, yes, yes…of course we will pay your ‘$289 bill’ on friday

and in december we will pay the remainder in two

payments of $560 each
thanks dude, you’ve been awesome today
that sounds great…

thank you once again

VERIZON

couple kicks back, turns on netflix movies

and lets ‘em stream for four days until there’s no signal available

midnight friday

fade out….


with gladiatorial glee

I had a bird’s-eye of the ;black friday frenzy; from an incredibly discreet and unique vantage point. I was cocooned safely from the madness. an island of sanity amid an ocean of shoppers.
Wal-Mart is and has been on many occasions our home for a night or two over the past year. they welcome travellers and truckers alike. responsible people. folks that pick up other people’s’ trash. eyeball the vicinity as a neighbor hood watch scout. you get kinda protective about your neighbor too. hope they’re warm ’cause there’s an extra blanket just in case. make more healthy wraps, they might be hungry…
we tried to feed a few people yesterday. there’s no mistakin’ the look. the look of embarassment…it was funny, we selected good-for-ya life-sustaining grub but by the time we rounded the corner they had gone. I believe someone helped them as one in three nearly always does. There’s a heck of a lot of good ‘out there’ and I call it that affectionately. To some of us it’s a very scary world and I applaud the ease at which you enjoy the fracas…the circus…the crazy colorful wheel of life.
well…back to my story. I sat quietly drawing when a raucous of voices, car doors and screeching brakes pulled me back to reality and the current surroundings. ‘what on earth???’ Vernon called sleepily from the all wooden sleep cabin ‘it’s black friday…’ ‘at 10 o’clock?’ no response except softly sawed logs…
I could not believe the insanity! cars lined up as far as the eye could see. big happy faces clutching coupons, ads and flyers. near accidents punctuating the night as spaces were fought over. I had never seen or experienced an energy like it…Romans racing for the best seats at the Coliseum.
a frantically excited couple showed us that they ‘had got two big flat screen tv’s’ and ‘they were all $700 a piece for $300 each, y’all’…they had lined up for five hours to score such a deal.
Wow, I thought ‘who said they were worth $700 in the first place?


Ministry of Love

Vernon titled this piece ‘song for Helen’. It’s beautiful. Probably the sweetest thing ever.
The road together has been long and difficult. Since the day when Vernon rescued me from a house of no return, with broken arm and a completely annihilated faith and so carefully & dutifully assumed ‘head of household’ of our newly formed family. Only thing, we had no house. We have slept under a bridge, by the side of a road, in a car…vulnerability became our way of life. often I slept for 4 hours while he guarded and then we switched over. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I would draw from my many experiences as a nurse working the night shift. Thinking back I have never really had a home. It wasn’t until I became homeless did I really consider let alone understand, the meaning or value of having a home. Many of the homeless that you meet ‘out there’ (the streets) say that homelessness is a state of mind and not just a situation. It’s very complex. Of course growing up, our family homes are ‘homes’. But it’s different. We are all so young and typically its an environment our parents pick out. I left the family ‘home’ when I was 18 years old and headed to the nearest city to start my nursing career. My first place was one room with single bed and wash stand. Nurses quarters. I can tell you right away, it was temporary! I felt very alone but at the same time excited about the path I had chosen. Next came a handful of shared flats & houses with other nurses. Sure, they were comfortable, clean, a place to rest & regroup for the next day. But they felt very much like stepping stones. Yes…stepping stones to get to another place.
My spirit became restless and the world called on me to travel, to expand my horizons. I accepted a travel nurse position in Orlando, Florida. That was where I met and married my ex-husband. It was a long, draw out and for the most part unhappy 15 years. Things at ‘home’ were so stressful that I threw myself in to my work. I don’t have much more to say except it was here that the river grew very wide and it seemed as though there weren’t anymore stepping stones.
Somehow I dug myself out of that hole and moved to San Francisco. It is a city that felt more like home than any place had up until then. But my apartment yet again was purely a place to set down, hang briefly, try to sleep and then get back to work. On my off days I spent as much time as possible away from ‘home’. I immersed myself in art & photography, roaming the City for hours on end doing both. I started to feel very lost. Disconnected. Even nursing became very alien to me. As a profession, it had always helped me to belong. Caring for others took my mind off my own worries and concerns. There was always someone so much more worse off than me. I convinced myself that I was strong, independent…in need of noone. I stayed too busy to sit down and actually reflect on what was happening. Too busy to remotely consider the absence of a home (or for that matter, a family) in my life. Maybe I felt like I didn’t deserve one. For whatever strange a reason as that, I will never know.
It took hitting a wall, falling of a cliff…completely breaking down and finally finding the next stone. It was a rock and it was at the bottom. Thats when I met Vernon. Thats when we discovered that we were so alike…that homelessness had been a life long struggle fraught with people that simply did not understand. Nor did they want to…
Clawing your way back to life, to some semblance of existence and to a state of contentment is so hard. So very very hard. But we were two now. Together the impossible started to be possible. No hope gave way to endless opportunites. To a creative flow of dreams and aspirations. I could not remember when I was so inspired!
It took literally losing everything to find a home. A place so warm and inviting and so full of love. A place to look forward to going to and missing a lot when away. A place to just be. Be with my family…be with me.
Not only do we have a home but its our dear studio too. It’s still a struggle. People continue to look down their noses. There’s a certain stigma to being poor, to having nothing but the shirt on your back. You’re viewed as lazy, as though life is easy. As though its OK to give up. I learn everyday from our friends on the street. They teach me a compassion that even nursing couldn’t. They teach me an understanding that can never be learned or studied. They teach me the true value of life, of a home, of acceptance. Of what’s really important and especially of what is not…

Vernon & I have turned our experience and newly found way of life in to a ministry. A ministry of helping and caring, encouraging and inspiring. A ministry that raises the awareness of homelessness, of poverty and the need to care.
Our lifestyle is so simple, our needs are very few. Any extra’s go back in to the community…food, clothing, advice, a ride, a bus ticket, a cup of coffee, a kind listening ear.
During this season of giving thanks, please donate to our cause.
Please. Please. Please.
We offer you original art for your generosity so please visit facebook.com/BirdXRust
>>>God Bless you <<<

 


Home Away From Home

Childhood starts all over again. We are reset, housed in a fun, practical and economical style. We fell in love with our wagon. Next year its an antique and already a reliable, solid friend. We sleep like babies…time to make up for all those vulnerable nights on the street. Time to help others, spread the Joy and the Word…Life is so very beautiful!

 


991/2 days and sleepless nights…

the 23rd April 2012:

Thats about how long we’ve been in the car together.

It’s probably even longer.

Heck…some days it feels like an eternity.

Definitely in a good way.

Anyway.

What a day it was last night!

It all started around 02:00 when we’re both awake @ the Wal-mart on Charlotte.

We’ve secured a safe and quiet camp over there.

There are fewer drunks. Less Mad-TV.

Only a bearded zz-top-man with cans stuffed in sacks.

Piled in to a shopping cart, waiting at the bus stop.

He catches the #10 at 04:50. Flannel shirt open over Tee.

I’ve had a hard time sleeping lately.

Ask any ER doc downtown.

So we’re trying to find a cup of coffee.

I’ve never seen a city quite so dead.

Its that hour though. Between 3 and 4. Not much going on.

In fact nothing at all.

Just because.

‘There’s an undercover!”

And  ”another pullin’ someone over there”.

“Look at that poor S.O.B’

Oh…’No…its whoop, whoop ‘ on you.

Excuse me…

‘ Why are you both in sleeping bags?’

Because.

Just because.

“Sir, you can sleep in your car, but a man can’t drive a house”

This is what we do.

Live our art.

Live in our car.

And film it too…

Not one word from the cop

Up ahead two more cars like sharks sulked around a corner.

Double whoop, whoop… 

Nocte interruptus…

For all four of us.

Our cop was totally cool. 

I hope the others were too.

Told us to slow down.

No ticket. A friendly smile.

We almost asked him for a cuppa.

Better not push our luck.

Instead we pulled in to the hospital mapco,

And sipped coffee until the sun came up.

 


Cura te ipsum

Anyone who knows or has spent anytime around me is all too familiar with my passionate revolutionary spirit and love of debate.

Having spent 25 years in the profession of nursing, I have basically seen it all and a lot you wouldn’t want to.

Quite frankly, my crash and burn from arguably the noblest of devotions to duty and my God-given calling on this planet was because of precisely that. I really did…’I cared, too much’ and its an impossible way for one of God’s humble servants to live… 

I was a terrified teenager when the docs in England finally decided to remove my tonsils. I suffered countless days sick from school, extremely happy to be on the settee at home, reading fiction, comic books and the works of Hardy, Orwell, Longfellow and Laura Ingalls Wilder…

Already my curiosity and love for American history , life and culture was very evident for I found myself engrossed more and more in American literature…Faulkner, Hemingway and Fitzgerald…

So the night before surgery, a dedicated caring, forever youthful third year student nurse took me under her wing and kept me busy helping make tea, talk to other patients and distracting my neurotic countenance from having a downright meltdown there on the ENT ward…

I do not remember her name, but at the age of 18, I proudly announced to my Mum that I wanted to go in to nursing.

After, she spluttered tea and a horrified ‘what?’ at me, I kinda saw her point. She had to spend countless hours calming me down, talking me out of a panic attack, a child riddled with good old garden variety agoraphobia (of which my grandmother suffered) and specifically emetophobia (a dark secret I have kept to myself and one that really cramps your party going style!).

But, ”Helen” she said “you’re so squeamish, how will you cope as a nurse?”

I never could answer that but confronting my fear, irrational or completely rational (you be the judge!) certainly helped and I thrived on helping and caring for others for many years.

My nursing experience and knowledge made it possible to travel to America and I worked at Florida Hospital in Orlando for many years.

I specialized in pediatric oncology nursing and developed a thirst for continued learning and research about better, safer treatments, symptom control and cures.

It wasn’t long after entering the US to nurse that I started to witness a trend towards the over prescription of medication, tests and procedures by doctors…

The world of pediatric oncology proved to be the only exception with the documented improvement in cure rates and survivorship programs. So, naturally it was a field where I felt I could honestly and with a clear conscious, care for my patients and their families.

Otherwise, we’re out there, legions of nurses, techs, aides…chasing our tails; drawing blood, over medicating, over testing and preparing elderly people (or any age for that matter) for crazy procedures and surgeries…

It’s exhausting…try a 12 hour shift on a saturday night. Anywhere…the pediatric unit, the emergency room, psychiatry, geriatrics…

You would not believe the psychological impact on a 50-60 hour a week, night nurse from a little town outside of London! Folks, it wore me OUT…

So when Vernon returned to the car this morning, smiling broadly about the headlines of the Tennessean today : ‘patients need less testing, treatment doctors say…’ www.tennessean.com

…it was in beautiful acknowledgement of my rant earlier on this week about countless painful and costly procedures and surgeries and the fact that many have suffered because of the greed of the medical establishment.

Oh! and I know, I have heard it umpteen times from the doctors…’well, we have to cover every angle’, ‘what if the patient sues?’ ‘we have to rule that out’ and ‘what about missing something, how about mal practice?’…

and believe me, even though they look like they know what they are doing, act like it, seem to give-a-damn,

Don’t be fooled…

Hmmmm….do you really want me to start talking about the medical mistakes I’ve seen? Probably not and I choose not to dwell on the innumerable, avoidable, unavoidable and downright tragic…

Instead when I think about my nursing years, I try to concentrate and reflect on the joy of caring for children, working side by side with outstanding pediatric oncology practitioners, seeing the positive results of my work and dedication …

But tucked right behind all those warm and fulfilling memories is the fact that healthcare reform in America is a VERY long time coming…

H. Bird

(ex-RN and former IV drug user) now spends her time livin’ laughin’ and lovin’ the arts, namely writing, drawing and photography…

addendum:

I wanted to share with you my favourite of all poetry by Longfellow ‘A Psalm of Life’

 What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
 "Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem. 

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
" Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
 But to act, that each to-morrow
 Finds us farther than to-day. 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
 And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums,
are beating Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
 Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
 Act,--act in the living Present! 
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
 We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
 Learn to labor and to wait.

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