Bum Fights

Did any of you ever watch those "movies?" Bum Fights? I watched it a couple of times with my brother, juggling horror and amusement. Bums always make me feel guilty. Guilty for having money, a car, a warm house, food, a bed, a family that cares... Guilty for pretty much existing. I think that's why I avoid them so.

Bums also make me angry at the government and subsequently, angry at the people. I am starting to realize that politicians care about two things: A) getting re-elected and B) making deals with their buddies to get their own agendas passed. To get re-elected, you mostly have to listen to your constituents. I honestly feel like and hope that if people harassed their senators and representatives enough, the change they want could come about. Instead, most of us wait until election day to pick the person whose beliefs are most aligned with our own. My point is that if we really wanted better resources for the homeless, mentally ill and drug addicted folks in our communities...there would be better resources. I'm being horrifically naive today.

I'll stop digressing. Eugene is rife with bums and hobos (there is a difference between the two; I'm stuck in the 30's). My uncle was a hobo during the depression. I'd like to talk to him. The stories that died alongside my father sadden me. I wish I'd written them down.

These Oregon hobobums range in age, many are addicted to meth, some are actually attractive (the beard gets me everytime), and lots have dogs. I tend to care more about dogs than I do people, so when I consider the HoboDog's life, I become sad/glad. I wonder if there are dogs who, like people, desire a life of wandering about. I know a few beagles who wouldn't mind that. But I also know dogs who love the comfort of a blanket, the hum of a television and the warmth of the radiator exuding heat onto their wet bum (Luna, after a good rain). These dogs must be hungry, and a lot of bums hold up signs requesting money to buy their dog food.

Yesterday, for some reason, I believed the bum. While he stood on the curb, his dog lay at his feet, dozing away. After having recently seen Marley & Me, my heart swelled for love of this dog. I fished around for the $5 bill I was going to use to get gas, rolled down my window and waved to the guy. He was in his late 20's, actually kind of cute, and I honestly thought he was just traveling through, taking a break from the Pacific Crest Trail (yeah, in midwinter? get real, brooke). He yanked the leash, startling his dog, who excitedly followed him as he ran up to my car. He saw the $5, and his eyes lit up, and he said....

"Sweet! Enough for a full gram...and a half!"

**on a side note. I advise against using a container that recently housed salsa as a way to transport milk. Spicy milk can really kill an appetite.