I'VE GOT A GUN

    I have decided to be One of those People . There are two choices. 1. You will see me on the evening news, (pictures at 11), just another crazy, screaming about our corrupted government, waiting for SWAT to take me out. 2. I use my words instead of my gun, and subject myself to the humiliation, stigma and outright violent condemnation of the apathetic, broken society in which I live in.

<u>These are the facts:</u> I am an American citizen. Born and bred. I've paid a fortune out of my paychecks in the name of Social Security and whatever taxes 'they' can dream up to lay in my lap. We were trying to build a business. I put a roof over my family's head, food on the table and put back into the operation whatever I could to keep it running. I couldn't afford health care. But we were surviving.

   When you're 41 years old and think you are Superman, you don't think about getting sick. But I did get sick. We lost the business. We lived on our savings for as long as we could, then we lost our home.

   I asked my government for help. They said that D.C. cut all the money out of the budget for folks like me, but they would do all they could do. First though, I had to prove that I was an American citizen. This from a state who issued me a drivers license. Of course, I gave them money for that. It took me two months of drowning in red tape and the incompetence of indifferent social workers to prove that I was and am a citizen. Two months, during which time my family and I became homeless. A citizen can't receive help if they don't have an address. Hmmm .. ?

   When inquiring about resources and programs on my own, I have been called a liar, a cheat and a swindler. Apparently, 'normal' people don't realize that homeless folks can access the Internet at the public library. For asking questions, I have been called a nigger, a spic, white trash, drug addict, and worthless by people who have never met me. The same people who told me to get a job, then called me a racist. Hey, I'm sorry if I asked a few questions pertaining to a HUD housing apartment complex in Molalla, Oregon when I was told that I couldn't apply to live there because I wasn't a Hispanic migrant worker. Isn't there a federal law or something about . . . . . ? Hmmm?

   I thought about all that money taken from my paychecks - the price for living in America, the day we drove down our driveway for the last time, wondering where we were going to sleep that night.

   I guess I've got a decision to make. Believe me, I've got a clear shot here, from the front porch. Stay tuned.