On the Road

I have been a little under the weather this past week with a bladder infection and only picked up a few people during the week.  In spite of the low numbers I met several people that I enjoyed very much.  When people get into my car I often start the conversation by asking if they are a native Arizonan or a transplant from somewhere else.  They often answer and then ask if I am native.  I usually explain that I was born and raised here but when our children were young we moved to California where we lived for almost 40 years.  This week I met two women who knew where Victorville and Apple Valley were.  The first said that she and her husband lived in Adelanto while he was stationed at George Air Force base.  I shared with her many of the changes that occurred once the base was closed.  The other woman knew about Apple Valley because when she was younger she worked on Ronald Reagan's campaign to be governor of California.  Roy Rogers and Dale Evans came to a fundraising event to support him and she met them and loved Dale Evans.  Thus she knew about Apple Valley.  (side note--Uncle Andy and Aunt Angela lived just up the street and across the road from the original house that Roy and Dale build and lived in for many years.)  

This experience of transporting people has been very interesting and at times painful.  Seeing how people live is often hard to grasp.  I have discovered that there is a huge tent city just east of the state capital building.  And believe me it is definitely large, filthy, and sad to see the people who call it their home.  I meet senior citizens whose only income is the monthly social security check which is about $1100.00 a month and they rely on food stamps and Medicare and are dependent on others for a home or they live in old and run down motel rooms because apartment rentals are more than they make each month.  I see often the ravages of drug abuse and mental illness that has taken their ability to escape the dark world they have become familiar with.  I have listened as a number of passengers carry on sometimes heated conversations with someone in their imagination as they deal with schizophrenia episodes.  On Wednesday I picked up a woman and drove her back to a group home where she lives.  A few minutes into the ride a man started talking about a business issue and I did a double take because I knew that the woman I had helped into the car did not have that voice.  It has honestly been an experience I have enjoyed but also have been saddened by some of the passengers that I have met.  I don't have any solutions just lots of questions and opinions that mean very little.  Mother Teresa once wrote, "The poverty of being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for is the greatest poverty.  We must start in our homes to remedy this kind of poverty."