THE HOBO
HANDBOOK: MEMOIRS OF A HOMELESS POET IN NEW YORK
By Daniel Canada c.2010
CHAPTER
THREE
PERSONALITIES
OF THE HOMELESS(Continued)
TRINITY is living proof of the truth of the Athanasius Creed:
“For there is one Person of the Father, another of the Son, and another of the
Holy Ghost. But the Godhead of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,
is all one.”
I’m not much of a religious person at all. Fact
of the matter, my cosmological views are so outlandish, that I prefer not to
disclose them whatsoever. Period and amen. As far as the above mentioned creed
codified at the late Council of Nicea in 325 A.D. is concerned, I was not a
believer until I ran across him.
I’m talking about “Trinity.”
Have you ever seen a man talking to himself and
holding three conversations all at once? And with different, competing,
points of views? It would be incredible, wouldn't it? Well, PT Barnum would
declare himself a charlatan, strike his tents and leave town if he’d saw the
likes of “Trinity.” Even he would be astonished if he had happened upon
“Trinity” on a New York City soup kitchen.
I mean like you can almost, actually hear three
separate, individual, voices conversing and arguing with each other simultaneously,
when “Trinity” speaks.
No shit. I kid you not.
It's a bit frightening, to tell the
truth. That's why I normally give “Trinity” wide berth, whenever I’m around
him. You never know. I wouldn't want one of those discarnate personalities
to get upset, break loose and throwing me a Linda Blair style beating.
No sir!
“Trinity” seems to be at peace quarreling with
himself. Correction! They seem to be at peace quarreling among themselves. So
far, no one’s gotten unruly and no violence has erupted during all the chatting.
Thank heavens! So I guess it’s all good for “Trinity” to fuss about and converse
with all his unseen companions. The thing that gets me the most, is that
“Trinity” will show up to a soup kitchen, wait for a half hour or more on line,
even in the most intemperate weather, with a meal ticket in hand, but never go
inside and eat.
Instead he’ll gleefully stand outside, on the
outskirts of the line, conversing with his “selves,” waving his ticket around
for all to see. When it’s time to go inside and chow down, he’ll simply return
the ticket back to the volunteer, and merrily walk away into the blue yonder. Perhaps
the alter personality that decided against eating that particular meal, on that
day, won out in the debate. As a result, the rest of them followed along and
hit the bricks.
One can never tell.
Other than that, “Trinity” is basically a
harmless guy. However, sometimes a few of the "Skeksies" do get a
little worried and uneasy around him, especially when he goes through his multiple
personality tomfoolery. Even the crazy homeless folks and "Skeks"
know that they’ve been bested when it comes to “Trinity,” and stay far away
from him.
Let’s just face it. Trinity’s thrice-gone out
to pasture and there’s no returning to home plate for him. Oh well. I was
holding out a modicum of hope for the poor chap.
Trinity’s story is unique, in that I really
don’t have a counterpoint to speak of in his behalf. The fact of the matter is
he’s just plain crazy. Notwithstanding this, I chose his story to make a social
point that I feel would’ve been easily overlooked; and that’s the government’s role
in overseeing the needs of the mentally ill, that find themselves homeless in
so many cities across this great U.S. of A.
The burden falls squarely upon the shoulders of
the government to provide proper, affordable-if not free-health care for the
mentally ill, and to see to it that they are safely tucked away in affordable
staffed housing, in the event they are no longer able to take care of
themselves.
Unfortunately, this is not the case, and there
are a lot of Trinities out there, with stories that aren’t as comical as the
one I decided to highlight. Perhaps it would be a good thing for us to contact
our local politicians and press them to enact legislature that will guarantee
the protection of the mentally ill, especially those found homeless and
abandoned on the streets.
I don’t know.
Either that, or to go back to the football
game, playing on the fucking twenty-two inch T.V.
Along with the beer nuts.
Having said this much, I can confidently step off my soapbox…at least for
now.
So don’t get too comfortable.
(To be continued...)
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