Thursday, October 17, 2013

Hobo Handbook: Memoirs of a Homeless Poet in New York (Excerpt #31)


By Daniel Canada c.2010

YODA Before I go any further, I just want to state that I lived a double-life. One half of me was a homeless guy, trying to do his best out here in these mean streets, writing this memoir, and everything. The other half yearned to be a Jedi Master.  Yes, a Jedi. Well O.k... I'll settle for being an apprentice, if there are no more Jedi slots available. I’m glad I finally got that confession out.

Believe it or not, I already met The Master. 

His name is "Yoda."

Of course it isn’t the real Yoda, from the movie “Star Wars.” Remember, this is my memoirs of my time spent on the street. So it has to be a homeless guy, for Pete’s sake. Nevertheless, “Yoda” is a real Jedi that keeps reminding me that no matter how strong I think I am, and no matter how much adversity I endure, I can never withstand what he can. I can’t even hold a candle up to him. I could never make it through all the crap he undergoes, in which life throws at him just for shits and giggles, every dog-gone day.

For starters, the winter of 2007 was just outright brutal, with wind-chill factors dropping the temperature below zero degrees. I still get the chills just thinking about it! Anyway, I was pretty well wrapped-up like an Eskimo when I happened to be briskly walking down Park Avenue and Forty-First Street, on my way to the warmth and safety of Grand Central Terminal. And low and behold! There was "Yoda," clothed in nothing but a mere rag of a thin shirt and a pair of worn-out pants, which were falling half-way down his legs and exposing his bare ass. 

However there he was, lying on the cold pavement atop a vent, braving the kind of freezing weather that sent many to the hospital and claimed four homeless lives that winter. That's why he's the Jedi Master Yoda. Don’t you see? He has supernatural powers and the force is strong with that One. He's been witnessed in the down pouring rain, just the same. No rain, nor snow, nor exhaustive heat' is going drive "Yoda" away. 

"Yoda" doesn't panhandle. I don't think he speaks our-that is the human race-language. In fact, I never heard him speak at all. However, "Yoda" can readily be seen eating a good hot meal and washing it down with a soda, or steamy hot cup of coffee, every day. He's got connections I can't even begin to fathom. 

Let’s just say he’s good like that. 

As I said earlier, I'm just a little-wannabe-Jedi apprentice when compared to the remarkable likeness of "Yoda."

Ah yes! Moral of the story time. The moral of this story is there is no moral of this story. Some people are just better cut out for survival than the rest of us poor humps.

And that's simply the God’s honest truth, chump. 

(To be continued...)