Selected Memories

"You Can't Go Home Again" is a novel by Thomas Wolfe, but the title is probably more famous than the book itself.  I only quote it because it pertains to a recent trip I made back to Sin City and the scene of 'crimes' as such'; although I'd argue that the only crimes committed were those I committed against myself.

Back in November 2011 when I first started this journal, I had lost nearly all of my possessions, including my camera. That deprived me of the chance to illustrate some of my postings with pictures of some of the neighborhoods and various locations I frequented during my period of homelessness (hm, maybe a better title for this post might have been "You Can't Go Homeless Again").  Unfortunately, I couldn't take pictures inside the Salvation Army headquarters where I spent a lot of time during my rehabilitation, as such.

However, in the picture below you can see the exterior of that building located on Owens Avenue in North Las Vegas. That large building behind the trees houses almost all the SA's operations:  The first floor contains administrative, kitchens, learning centers, recreational and mess areas.  The second and third floors comprise the dorm areas for men and women.  The basement contains laundry and maintenance services.  I spent time in almost every service area on every floor.

While you can see one or two homeless figures in the foreground, there are dozens more located just up the sidewalk.  That's where they hang out waiting for the free daily meals.  I did actually try to snap a few pics of them, but essentially got chased off by a few guys who took exception to my 'invasing their privacy" as they put it.  There were several other stragglers milling about directly across the street from here.  During the late afternoons and evenings that entire sidewalk is often crowded with the homeless and their various accouterments:  Suitcases, bags, trunks, cardboard boxes flattened for sleeping on the sidewalk, and the occasional dog or cat.

Jerry's Nugget Casino, a 50-year fixture of North Las Vegas, is pictured above.  It often served as a place of respite from the SA campus although I'd still see plenty of familiar faces here.  Many guys from SA had hardcore gambling addictions and would come here to play the slots, 21, or place various sports bets.  They would rarely drink here, however; SA always performs Breathalyzer tests upon returning to their property.  If a client tested positive they were temporarily evicted from the dorms and made to spend 24 hours on the streets ... Reason enough for abstinence, imo.

The homeless roam up and down these streets (N. Las Vegas Blvd. is pictured here) 24/7.  It's likely one reason the security personnel in the casino cast a wary eye on anyone who enters the building. Many -- like myself -- visited the place mainly to use their restroom facilities.  Given that many of the indigent tend to use such facilities to bathe or wash their filthy laundry ... well, you get the idea. Needless to say, the whole area is rife with all forms of vice, the most common being drug dealing and prostitution.

The Palomino Club (pictured above) is across the street from Jerry's Nugget and has been world famous since '69 ... what a coincidence.  Another of the area's landmarks.  I was never out late enough to see any of the dancers arrive.  I did see a number of homeless guys camping out in front during the day, though.  Maybe they thought they'd get lucky.

Another view of Owens Ave, facing west.  The SA building is farther up on the left.  A church is just to the right.  Charitable groups often set up stations for free food, water, clothing, etc. adjacent to that building.

It was interesting to return to this area after approximately a year and a half at the Grand Canyon.  This urban area seemed more bleak and barren than I recalled; perhaps it only seemed to because I've grown so accustomed to the open spaces and magnificent vistas of the GC.  But there's a barrenness of spirit here as well, as though this part of Las Vegas has absorbed the desperation and hopelessness of its indigent inhabitants, and reflected it back.  I don't know how it happened but you could call this area a kind of Mecca for the dispossessed; somehow, they all make the pilgrimage here ... and often stay.

That might be thing that affected me most during my brief return visit:  That I saw so many familiar faces still there, going through the same motions and repeating the same behaviors as they had when I last saw them some 18 months ago.  Funny ... I felt something like a conquering hero when I first returned there.  After all, I had departed Vegas on a Greyhound bus with a few hundred dollars to my name.  I returned in my own car, still gainfully employed and doing pretty well (and had a few more hundred dollars to my name, lol).

But that sense of triumph dissolved into a kind of despondence after walking along once familiar sidewalks and streets.  I'm out of harmony with that area, its inhabitants and it attendant lifestyle now -- which is a good thing.  But to see so many people essentially exactly where I had left them after my time away, well, let's say I cut short my visit earlier than I had intended.  Sadly, from what I saw during my sojourn in Sin City, the homeless situation is likely worse, not better.

And Your Humble Narrator?  Much like The Dude, Your Humble Narrator abides.  More pics, reflections and an off-putting encounter coming up ...

Canyoneering 9: Active Effects

No sooner did I title the previous installment "Winter in the Rearview Mirror" than we got hit with a late blast of snow and sub-zero temps.  To be sure, Your Humble Narrator was not pleased at the prospect of digging through the white stuff and slipping yet again on icy pavements.  Yet, the sudden storm lasted only half a day and all snow and ice were melted away within 48 hours.  Now the Grand Canyon appears to be in springtime mode -- I think -- with high temps in the 60-70s range and clear, sunny skies.  At any rate, the deer and elk seem convinced of nice weather; herds of the beasts are popping up everywhere I look.

Business has been picking up lately as well.  In my capacity as a Banquet Steward I'm seeing many more tour groups arriving regularly for breakfast and dinner.  The job basically entails setting up and breaking down eating areas for the guests.  We also bus tables, serve coffee/tea, and refill water.  I was recently cleared to run a cash register for the purpose of overseeing a cash bar run on the premises.  Given that I've never run a register in my life and will be dealing with weary, booze-craving tourists, I'm curious to see what happens.

Being a BS (as such) isn't the most difficult job I've had.  As far as day jobs go, it's fairly routine and sedate. There's a lot of detail work, such as setting tables, changing linens, restocking items, and so forth; simple enough but can be very time consuming.  Preparations for the next days events are usually completed the night before.  The work can be tedious but the gratuities help me maintain my interest.  To be sure, however, there is a lot of manual labor involved with this gig.

We must carry large tables and chair up and down stairs.  We must push and transport food and utility carts loaded with dishware and utensils to and from our serving area to the El Tovar Hotel where the items are unleaded and reloaded.  In this higher elevation such exertion can take its toll on YHN.  Indeed, I make no bones about the fact that I am no longer a young man.  I figure such physical strain as this job entails would mean a year at most serving as a BS.  After that, many of my favorite body parts may cease to function properly.  Hopefully, that will give me the time necessary to reach my savings goal and push on.s

I admit that I have of late been thinking more often about leaving the Grand Canyon.  The strange thing is that  I have an odd sense of regret at the prospect of departing.  You see, I actually do like it here ... well, sort of.  The place offers some majestic scenery, to be sure.  And I like the wide open spaces, the sharper air, and the sense of freedom such a huge national park offers.  Still, the GC as a working/living environment offers some unique challenges.  There are a number of, shall we say, unique personalities with which to contend.

The shorthand would be to say the employees comprise a lot of freaks and geeks.  A fairer assessment might be that many of the employees here are lacking in the social graces.  Such people seem to have trouble with holding casual conversations  or managing to maintain their composure when dealing with higher-stress situations.  Other people have a tendency to act unnecessarily rude or say inappropriate things (especially bad when dealing with the public.  There's a lot of partying that goes on in the dorms, mostly drinking to excess, to the point where National Park Service rangers (the local police force or Barney Fifes as they're referred to here) are called to quell the disturbance.

I tend to turn a blind eye and/or deaf ear to a lot of the nonsense that goes on around here. After all, I've encountered many of these types of misfit personalities before, at Salvation Army.  The difference was that the characters there weren't allowed access to booze.  And there was much less tolerance for aberrant behavior than what Xanterra tends to exhibit.  Still, to my employer's credit, they do have a zero tolerance policy on alcohol and drugs.  If an employee tests positive during a random check (or upon any suspicion), that employee is summarily discharged on the spot.

If you recall the TV show Green Acres, and the town of Hooterville with all its oddball characters, you'll have some notion of the people you deal with here in the GC.  And if you recall big city Oliver Douglas's (Eddie Albert) frustration and exasperation at dealing with the small town yokels, you might have some idea of how I feel when dealing with some of my Xanterra compatriots. All that's missing is Arnold the Pig (although we do have Bucky, a domesticated mule deer who roams outside our dorm).  Now, if only I had a hot Hungarian babe, I'd be set!

At any rate, I do feel the desire for civilization puling at me ever more frequently.  I do miss the voiceover work I left behind in Vegas.  In a sense I've started a new career -- perhaps even a new life -- here in the GC.  And you know something?  It can be a good career, and a good life.  But I don't know if it's necessarily my career or life.  Were I a few decades younger, maybe so.

At this point, I find it rather late in life to make a true career switch into the food/restaurant industry.  Sometimes it feels as if I've made a detour in my life, a temporary stopping off point.  Maybe it's been necessary to gain some perspective; to take a breath, one might say.  Interesting, because I seem to have garnered a rep here for being a good co-worker, easygoing, with a sense of humor.  My performing background has allowed me to easily converse with guests and I've even thrown in a few celebrity impersonations (people tend to like my Sean Connery bit).  I've met many people from all over the world, and made a number of friends in the process.

Yet I'm still chafing to get may to my real career(s).  I've taken a small step, in managing to re-establish some of my writing contacts.  The lousy Internet service here in the GC kind of puts a stopper on that, however.  Still, it's been nice to resume some of my former work, if only on a small scale.  Baby steps, I guess.  But the time is coming for me to take a leap out of the Canyon.  Funny, because I initially intended to stay here for six months, maximum.  In all honesty, YHN finds that leaving the GC is a decision he is not so anxious to make.

Canyoneering 5: YHN, GCBS

So it's less than a week from Xmas and the Grand Canyon is looking like a winter wonderland.  Just when I thought the snow would bypass us (out of consideration of Your Humble Narrator's disdain for the white stuff) -- BLAM -- we get hit with 10+ inches of the crap.  And of course as temps begin to warm up enough to melt the snow we get another 3" last night.  Snow is one of the primary reasons I moved to Las Vegas.  I lived there for some 12 years without seeing a snowflake (just other flakes of the human variety); another dozen snow-free years would be more than welcome.

Not that YHN is a stranger to snow.  After all, I grew up in the midwest so I'm somewhat used to inclement weather.  But it has been difficult to readjust to maneuvering across slippery roads and treacherous black ice.  I've slipped and fallen several times recently trying to navigate slick surfaces.  I finally gave in and spent the $$ on some 'STABILicers' kind of like snow chains for your shoes.  Happily, I've not slipped or slid since; hell, I can traverse these Arctic conditions like a giant penguin!

It's very pretty ... Pretty damn annoying!

Perhaps it's due to the time of the season, but I find myself thinking about time and how it seems to constantly slip away.  Curious, because approximately a year ago at the Salvation Army time seemed to stand still.  It felt as if I'd never get out of there, like I could never break free of my circumstance.  Now, at the Grand Canyon, time has seemingly resumed its linear flow.  Yet even here, time can play tricks on you. Sometimes it feels as if there is no such thing as 'time' per se; at least not as something that can be measured or categorized.

One could argue that this very location is somehow timeless in and of itself.  Or perhaps it’s because we’re rather cut off from civilization; consequently, we often aren’t up to date with all the latest news from the outside.  Indeed, one temporal phenomenon that affects almost every employee in the GC is this:  We often have a difficult time remembering what day it is.  One day is essentially like the other within the park.  There are times when terms like “Monday,”  “Saturday,” etc. completely lose their meanings.  There are simply days and nights that seem to steadily dissolve from one to the other without regard for how we humans care to measure time.

What a roundabout way of saying it’s been a long time since my last post.  Here we are, very close to Xmas and 2013 and Your Humble Narrator has been in the GC for approximately six months.  Odd, because when I originally landed here from Vegas I intended to leave the GC sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Well, it looks like I’ll miss that deadline.  Indeed, I might be here in the GC for the time being.  So what happened?

I guess I’m experiencing what is a fairly common occurrence for many employees:  The GC grew on me.  Many people who have spent 5-10+ years in the park tell a similar tale:  They come here planning on staying for months and end up staying for years.  They find careers here; they marry and raise families here; they find a home here.  While it’s too early to tell if I actually want a career (or a family) in the GC, I think I have found a home, however temporary.

Remember, when I arrived here from Salvation Army, I was essentially homeless with maybe $75 to my name.  I had lost almost everything I possessed, found myself in situations I could never have anticipated; it was a classic ‘it-could-never-happen-to-me’ scenario – except that it did happen.  At best I could say that when I had a mid-life crisis, I had a mid-life crisis.  At any rate, I found myself hurtling through changes in lifestyle, attitude, and circumstance that left me in a state of bemused numbness.  And that’s pretty much how I felt when I arrived at the GC.

While I initially planned to save up just enough cash to return to Vegas and restart my former life there, something interesting happened.  I began to enjoy living in the GC, something I could never have anticipated upon arrival here.  I think it began with appreciating the immensity of the landscapes and vistas.  Then  there’s the small community here with people who are very friendly, helpful and outgoing.  And while I never imagined working as a ‘cafeteria worker’, I actually did begin to take satisfaction from performing the job, regardless of how menial and tedious it could be at times.

That’s something I find inexplicable; in the past I would have laughed at the notion of me working in such a job.  But while I was at SA I decided to use those experiences – as unfortunate as they may have been – as an opportunity to learn from my circumstances.  That meant learning the jobs, learning from bosses and coworkers and basically focusing on the job at hand (no pun intended).  I tried to learn as many details as possible about whatever gig I was given.  In a sense I was trying to focus on anything other than my shitty circumstances.

So I think that philosophy carried over here to the gig at the GC.  Sometimes I actually looked forward to work.  I was content to be a line-server, and slop food onto plates.  Along the way I learned as much of the operation as possible – not just about  the Canyon Café where I worked, but about the entire Food & Beverage Department run by Xanterra Corp. here at the GC.  I found I liked talking with the guests and learning about where they came from.  I displayed a good attitude, never caused trouble and have never been late or called in sick.

Why do I tell you this?  Because I feel like patting myself on the back?  No, actually.  It’s because I believe these are reasons why I got the nod for a new gig here at the GC.  YHN has transitioned from working in the café to the position of ‘Banquet Steward’.  I’m now part of a crew that sets up a lot of special events here.  That includes anything from Xmas and holiday parties to political town halls and weddings.  It's also recognized as one of the more coveted (non-managerial) positions in the park.  I'll explain more about that in the next post.

... One Year Later

You know those TV shows and movies where the story leads up to a dramatic cliffhanger and the screen blacks out and the legend "One year later ..." appears.  (Alternately, writers use the "24 hours earlier", "One year earlier", etc.)  I've always felt that device is some thing of a cheat.  Like the filmmakers didn't exactly know where to take their story after building it up to a dramatic point; they seem to have decided, "Hell let's skip ahead a year and fill in the details as we go along".

While I think it's something of a cheat and cliche when used in film/TV, wouldn't it be cool if you could use that device in real life?  Magically skip ahead X amount of time to a given point in your life where everything has turned out fine.  I wish I could have done that over the past year.  You see, while you might view Halloween as a time to trick or treat, I'm afraid it marks a bitter anniversary for You Humble Narrator.  It was about a year ago that I became homeless.

Yes, things certainly did build up to a climax:  I succumbed to major depression, lost most of my possessions and money (not to mention my pride), was evicted from my apartment and literally wound up on the streets of Las Vegas with no where to go.  (If you'd like to read my tragic tale in detail, please refer to earlier posts of this blog entitled "HINJFCA"; you'll learn what the clunky acronym stand for.)

During the past year I traveled a path I could have scarcely imagined. I arrived at the Salvation Army of North Las Vegas with less than $100 to my name (if not for the generosity of a cousin I would not have had even that much).  I encountered circumstances and people I had only read about or seen portrayed in the media.  I effectively became part of a shadow society of beggars, drifters, and malcontents.  I sometimes marvel that I didn't simply fall in with many of those who have chosen to take their chances on the streets.

You might not believe how easy it is to make the choice to simply abandon society, cast away responsibility, and lose yourself in the anonymity of the streets.  All it takes is for a person to lose so much that making the effort to regain it isn't worth the effort.  Many have chosen to find comfort in the filth and danger of the streets.

During the past year I was a client in the SA vocational program.  I worked in food service for the first time in my life.  I went to culinary school and learned basic cooking and garde manger (well, sort of).  I made friends with people I would have not long ago deemed as undesirable:  Ex-cons, junkies, thieves of all sorts, hookers, and those with questionable mental stability.  I tried to learn as much as I could from them and about them.  In some ways, I think the process helped me learn about myself:  That I wasn't as fucked up as I feared I was.

Time made events into a kind of blur.  I applied for and was accepted for a job at the Grand Canyon, where I presently live.  I think the change in atmosphere from the urban jungle of Vegas to the rugged landscapes of the GC have acted as a tonic of sorts.  For whatever reason I've felt revitalized since coming here.  The work is somewhat tiresome but it's easy to save money, and I don't feel the day to day pressures of living in a large city. I like many of the people I've met here, especially those from overseas.  The atmosphere is, overall, agreeable.  I actually grew up in a village; now, decades later it seems I have found some degree of peace in another village some 7000+ feet in elevation.

 The experience of the past year has been humbling to say the least. I could never have guessed these events would have taken place in my life.  In some ways this experience has served as a time of re-examination and reassessment.  It has made me appreciate the things I previously took for granted.  In some ways it feels as though I have been broken down piece by piece, atom by atom, into my base elements.  And slowly, piece by piece, atom by atom, I am being reconstructed, re-forged if you will, into something new; hopefully into something better than before.

There are any number of lessons I could take away from this experience.  Here's one:  I guess if you really want to survive, you'll find a way to survive.  Forces unseen will somehow come to assist you if you really want to survive.  I say this because there was a time in the past year where I wasn't sure if I did wanted to go on.  I only wanted everything to go away;  I wanted the pain to go away.  Instead, the pain got worse. But I survived it; I'm still surviving it.  So somehow, at my core I guess I did really want to survive after all.

I'm still here.