travis

Travis

When reading this piece, there are a few items to keep in mind. The action I took may seem compassionate and brave (I am neither), this incident took place many years ago, thus my recollection my be a bit hazy, and the focus should not rest upon the two main characters (Travis or I). It demonstrates the unquestioning love I often get and require from two of my younger siblings. Although the two are younger and non-brain-injured, they seem to know that  am neither unquestioning, this type of allowance should never, ever be repeated and the fact that I am able to smile as this is composed is testament of dumb-luck and this silly belief in trust.

Although I have gotten to be much more mindful, my track-record has blemishes which are hard to shake and expect others to forget. Although I have had a traumatic brain injury for nearly a quarter of a century, I make missteps and miscalculations. However, I also know some facts and have a decent amount of compassion. I also know that my home-state of Iowa has an unbelievably low crime rate, my parents live across town now, and having two degrees, I usually feel quite competant at making the few important decisions with which I am presented. it is almost impossible to determine whether there is honest concern, whether she or he is just attempting to display kindness to others around me, is the person is underestimating the level of function one normally achieves after being disabled for twenty years or if the concern is genuine.  After all, I have a traumatic brain injury which puts me at risk. Although I somehow received two college degrees, my judgment and reasoning skills are impaired, I am astonishingly slow and have absurdly slow reactionary skills, and the manner of which I appear to the world makes me vulnerable. For these reasons, some would claim that the very existence of Travis in my life the result of a huge error in judgment, but I would disagree. This experience solidified my brothers’ faith in me and that gift is priceless and gives me reason to know that everything will come out okay.


My meeting with Travis came upon a January-weekend in the state of Iowa. After misplacing my winter coat at a distant shopping mall, I stopped at a tavern to soak-up some warmth before the final trek in the bitter cold. Fighting to warm-up, I began a conversation with this raggedy-looking guy near me. He said his name was Travis and that he always felt rather comfortable in taverns.  As the talk progressed, he, without a trace of embarrassment, mentioned that his parents “had lived at the local bar” and that he “knew their life was bad” but that he could not live differently. While I completed my undergraduate studies, I took several classes in Sociology and had studied alcoholism and had read much about the lives of children of alcoholics. Fate seemed almost inescapable and the number of their challenges was overwhelming. He was one of those kids. School, social, and educational worries were compounded with the turbulence and insecurity of living with and depending upon adults who lacked in rationale and who could barely care for themselves, not to mention innocent children.


We spoke for a while and he seemed very kind, friendly, accepting, and, strangely, trustworthy. Travis was also incredibly inane, which only added to his trait of being trustworthy. Dreading my long, open-aired ride home (because I am disabled, I travel in a scooter), I spoke of my warm bed. Quite unconsciously, he remarked on his lack of a bed and my fortune. Immediately, I thought, “Inviting him may not be the smartest thing you have ever done, but who cares? It’s freezing. You aren’t exactly invincible, but…God, you have a big, warm place…AND two beds! He’s fine. This is fine. It’s cold. It’s bitterly cold.” Thus, I said, “Well, I think you should stay at my place. C’mon. It is way too cold out. I’ve got an extra single in my living room.” Of course, he acquiesced and followed me home.

After my session with Travis, I vowed never to allow to allow the weather justify a decision such as this. First of all, bad habits do not vanish easily. Although I told Travis to use the shower and washer often, he preferred to sit on the couch and watch television. As I had an infinite number of channels, I could easily tolerate this and just kept reminding myself of the temperature. Secondly, I never dance around my house without clothing, but it is my personal space. Hence, if the occasion demanded it, I could. My parents worked hard to allow for me to allow for their children to have adequate shelter. However, the night we met was bitterly cold and my conscience just wouldn’t allow for me to get a moment of sleep while having the knowledge that he was somewhere outside.

He said he had a job, so unemployment was not the cause of his situation. Apparently, he had managed to hold some job and had some access to food but was too stupid to save that money to use for lodging. I really cannot give more details. Providing warmth and some safety were my main concerns. Hence, I never delved. He was dumb and, although he tried to hide it, was usually drunk. Since he left, I have done some reading on folks who are homeless and have discovered that a full third of them abuse alcohol. Trying to use a scapegoat, he would always tell me that, “A mob of Mexicans jumped (him).” To this excuse as to why he was constantly broke, I just nodded and offered a few words of consolation, but I knew where he earnings had gone…he drank them.

Homeless shelters have rules designed to stop inebriation and if I were in charge of a shelter or if I were a social worker, I would have treated the entire situation differently. Instead, I just was cold, sympathetic, and was saddened by his life. Also, as someone who has not always used her best judgment, I was somewhat understanding. Plus, I have lived in the great state of Iowa for most of my life and have seen the effects of frostbite firsthand on several occasions. These winters suck! Too easily, I quickly recall the throb of my hands from spending just a few minutes in the air’s bitter freeze and I have a history of placing my hands under a stream of lukewarm water only to wince in severe pain as they thawed and the feeling in my nerves returned.

As stated, I have a traumatic brain injury aand live alone.  Thus, I had this single bed in the living room and someone, usuaally a parent, would sleep there upon a visit to help with something. Being fairly compulsive, it may not seem at all logical that I allowed this very unclean individual to co-habitate with me, but I did laudry all of the time and was fairly eager to share the over-abundance of foood my mother sent home with me.  In the end, the worst part of housing Travis was the odor. Unfortunately, his work kept him on his feet all day and he constantly wore these big, work boots. I doubt that they were ever cleaned and they had this odor which I hope to never smell again. After dealing with that foul smell after one night, I asked Travis to leave his shoes outside. He readily agreed but despite his best intentions and my relentlessly reminding him to shower and to wash his clothing, he was unable to follow through on his promises to keep clean and odor-free.

As I was not employed, it was not too difficult to clean after Travis or hide our living situation.  Although I am/was not employed, besides sleeping, I rarely linger in my home for long stretches of time to monitor all the activities, but Travis was gone all day.  He said he was at work and while I cannot testify to that, I will say that he wasn't around. After the initial night of feeling good about saving him from the cold, it was a bit worrisome to know that a stranger was a few rooms away from me while I slept. I would never suggest that I am a woos or a wimp, but the fact was that he about six inches and a hundred pounds on me was a bit daunting in retrospect.  As seemingly-harmless and grateful as Travis seemed, it was somewhat amazing to consider the amount of male friends a woman can get to pay her visits.  As these friends seemed to trust my judgement, none of them questioned me about my visitor. However, hoping that the knowledge of so much nearby "protection" would impress Travis, I definitely let them know the nature of our relationship in the presence of Travis. Really, I doubt if that action was necessary.

Although the obligations to my sense of smell only permitted his visit for a few days and I was not sorry to witness his departure, all in all, I found little reason to doubt his honesty and gratitude and don't truly regret my offer. There should be some sort of law essuring all Iowans a warm bed during the winter.  Plus, my cat, Grace, adored him and they often played. As I replay the period of Travis’s stay over in my mind, I feel regret and remorse with a twinge of shame. Not that they do a great job, but our country’s social systems were created to help guys like Travis. I have a masters degree in rehabilitation counseling. If I had my life together, it should be my job and skill to help people just like Travis. And all I could do was to offer him a bed. I really didn’t have to exert my self. To establish permanent help for him, I ought to have escorted him to the Housing Office, the Salvation Army, the Department of Human Services, or to anyone who might have provided further aid. Additionally, I looked for no help from Alcoholics Anonymous or anything. Basically, I constantly complained about his body odor and other bad habits…not very compassionate. Essentially, it was a harmless incident, but I felt a bit intruded upon and would have been glad never to see Travis again.

As usual, my way was paved with good luck again when a year later, I ran into Travis. Melanie and another friend, Smita and I went to this pizza place to say goodbye over a pie. I was leaving for a trip to visit my brothers the next morning. As we sat, I casually noticed some sketchy-looking folks at the bar. Turns out that Travis was with them and after a brief inquiry as to his current living situation, I found nothing had changed. When we had finished, he came home with me. She is responsible to the gills, but she allows me room to screw-up, so Mel grimaced about leaving. However, she loves me and lets me make mistakes. Sage was playing ball for the Dolphins, but his season was complete. As Jeremiah had relocated to Miami to teach high school, he was rather near Sage’s family and lived in this cute apartment with spectacular view of the city and the beach. I had given my friend, Lisa, a spare key and she agreed to come-over twice daily to feed Grace, my kitty.

After spending the weekend with Jeremiah who lived in a great apartment in the city, I switched-over to Sage’s to spend my remaining time with his him. He lived in a suburb near the practice facility with his wife, Maria and their two kids, Peyton and Ava. After being there for only a day or two, I was alone with Sage, his cell rang. It was Lisa. She demanded that he ask me why she had found “a naked, homeless man watching TV” in my home. Directly after Sage asked, I knew exactly who it was (although I had no clue how he managed to enter my home) and I attempted to alleviate any of his concerns. Having spent his preceding years of his life in Iowa, Sage knows how cold it is in the winter.

Additionally, after seeing the high-priced life that for Sage, I doubt if he was worried about possible costs of any of my belongings. As I did, my brothers learned at an early age that “things” can always be replaced, so that was not a concern. Essentially, I seemed to be in fine shape and he trusted me. I am pretty well-known in my family for doing nice, harmless things which may be a tad alarming to outsiders and if I had glimpsed a hint of dishonesty or rudeness from Travis, I would have never allowed for him to stay in my garage. At the time, I didn’t really concern myself with the relevance of shelters (who, by the way, are fabulous but who have definite rules against giving beds to folks who are high or drunk). Even now, as I sit before my computer, in warmth, I can hardly fathom the decision not to give Travis (or anyone else) a bed. It was just so damned cold. Too cold.

Being a concerned, responsible friend, Lisa was livid and remained unconvinced that it was all right and that there was no threat of danger. Lisa is much younger than me and does not really have the luxury of knowledge of my history with innocent dealings with folks who do not seem of average means. Plus, she is quite young and does not really know me enough to realize that I am not gullible or too-brain injured, nor does she possess the knowledge or have much experience to understand what is a big deal and what is not. In the end, any bad feeling involved in the situation are my fault. Realizing that I had not taken the time to call and warn her that I had a guest in my garage, I felt tremendously irresponsible, but my level of alarm was at a minimum.

Upon my return to frigid Iowa, I found him in the pedestrian mall and, of course, inquired about the mess. Apparently, I had accidentally left my rear sliding glass door unlocked and, remembering my warm shower, he had disrobed and had washed his smelly laundry (I assume). After the shower, he walked up to the living room to watch TV and play with my kitty. Coincidentally enough, Lisa dutifully arrived to do her duty and had discovered a guy lying in my living room. Since he was freshly washed, I guess she was only offended by his presence and not his odor.

As I am disabled, people are very protective of me and my actions live in constant doubt. Not only do I use a wheelchair, my voice leaves little doubt that my intellect has been compromised and I will candidly admit that I am quite defenseless and that there have been times to second-guess my actions. However, after hearing that I was providing food and shelter to a homeless man, my brothers, of whose respect I most crave and in which I take solace, never even said anything about it to either of my folks. I told them that he was harmless and they trusted my decision-making abilities. Their silence felt good. Still does. It is the reason that I never take other people’s criticisms too seriously. Although I enjoy the compliments of others, my family’s opinions mean the most to me. They mean everything.

Recently, I was downtown and I ran into a guy who was aware of my relationship with Travis. As the pair were in similar conditions, I have no idea if the man was being honest. At forty-six, I'm well aware that folks often fib or tell little stories which they  may tell to alter an opinion. All of the friends of Travises who I knew were homeless and their honestly speculative so I have no clue of the credulity of the facts but this guy said that he heard that Travis had come into a bit of inheritancee and was no longer on the street. Wish I could take the man at face-value because it'd be a great comfort. I wish Travis the best.