High Pole: Making Up My Mind

For the last month or so, Ms Pat and Kellie, the ladies I have my pilot car listed with, have been talking to me about running a high pole. They say that many people are getting out of doing it because there is a lot more risk and some just don’t want to bother with it any more. I thought about it for several weeks and aside I would. Then I ran with a high pole guy, talked to him and several others and was back on the fence about it. The events of today have made up my mind.

The load I am escorting is 14′ 9″ tall and 13′ 8″ wide. We didn’t need a high pole through Mississippi, Tennessee, or Kentucky. BUT when we got the Illinois permit this boring we found that they do require one. So I called Ms Pat and she called a lady in IL and we thought we were all set up and would be ready to when we got to the line. BUT OH NO! Jinx has hit again.

I call the guy that is supped to be our high pole car. He says “please, please, please” meet him at I 24 exit 16 instead of the state line. So I agree. When we get there, I call the guy again and ask him where he is. He tells me that it is going to be 45 minuets to an hour before he gets there. I tell him ok, we will grab some lunch. 75 minuets later, he still isn’t there. I call him, he says he is getting off the interstate. We pay for our lunch and my driver, Brian, goes to his truck while I go into the truck stop. When I come out and get to Brian’s truck, he come and asked me if I talked to “this guy” yet? I said no and he said I needed to. After a little chat, it really didn’t take long, I realize that this guy doesn’t know very much about escorting or high pole. Brian ask about the hight os the pole and I can see that it is way to high. I have him nose up to the load and we can see that it is 3 feet higher than the load. The IL permit requires it to be 3 in higher. We have hime pull it down and try to get it right. He and Brian work on it while I call Ms Pat and tell her about our concerns. Brian and this guy can’t get the singer in the pole to secure so that it will stay at the hight that we need it.

While all of this is going on, we find out that this is NOT the guy that the lady in IL called to be our high pole car. He is buddies with that guy she called. The guy she called is having marriage problems and doesn’t want to leave the house because he is scared his wife will run off with everything. We also find out that THIS guy has never escorted an oversize load…he has just ridden with his buddy for a while. After 3 hours and many, many, many, many, many calls later to many different people, we were told to send this guy out to get the guy that owns the car and that he will escort us. It’s 1500 and we have only another 2 1/2 hours to run. By the time this guy drives back 24 miles, get the guy and drives back, we are going to loose at least and hour. We are not happy campers.

At 1615, I call the lady from IL and tell her that the guy in not back yet. We chat for a bit and then I call the number I had been talking to him on. The guy that owns the car answers this time and tells me he is still an hour away. AN HOUR AWAY! I tell him that it is to late for us to leave now so why was he even bothering to come out. He says that he didn’t know if we wanted to get the rest of the way across Kentucky tonight or not. We are 16 miles from the IL line. What the hell would we go 16 miles to have to stop on the side of the interstate where there are no facilities and no place for him to park. I am thinking to myself, “What kind of IDIOT is this?” THEN, he starts getting rude and talking to me like I am out of line for asking the other guy where his dash mirror is so that he can see the tip on the pole and about how much he himself has done this and a bunch of other crap. I was at the point that I was glad he was on the pone talking to me like that and not there in front of me. I am afraid that it would have not been pretty thing if he had been. Anyway, I told him I was not going to debate all this with him. This is what we wanted and how we wanted it done and that he needed to be there at 0600 the next morning. He starts in on how he has had a bad day. I interrupted him and told him again to be there at 0600, then I said goodbye and hung up.

I then called the lady from IL and told her what had just happened. She and I talked and she tells me that she doesn’t want to trust this guy and is going to send someone else in to meet us in the morning. Thinking it is all settled, I go find a hotel room. A bit later, Brian call me and tells me that the guy finally showed up and has told whim that the lady from IL has told him to be there at 0600. I told him to give me a minuet and I will call him back. I cal the lady and she days she has not talked to him since she and I talked earlier. I call Brian back and tell him to tell the guy to call the lady and let her handle it.

So, as it stands right now, that guy is NOT going to be our high pole for tomorrow. I have talked with the gal coming it to do it. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day and Jinx will go away. (keeping my fingers crossed) Below is a picture of the load.

I have ordered a high pole and it should be in soon. I don’t want to ever have another day like today because of something like this.

My Resignation as MS PGR HOTH Coordinator

Close Call: My Email to Forward Air

R.I.P. Trapper John, I am going to miss you sweetheart!

I didn’t know Trapper John for very long, only 3 years, but he was not only a huge part of my biker family, I considered him my friend. I remember the first time I met him and Carole. It was after I had shattered my wrists and the first time I was back on my Harley; the Gulfport Blowout. We had been friends on BoN for a while but I really didn’t know who he was. I was new to the biker world since I had only been riding since the summer of 2007. Several of the BoN people were going to meet at the rally and we were keeping in touch with each other because the weather forecast didn’t look good for that weekend. The Wednesday before the blowout really kicked in, I rode down to Gulfport to help set up the PGR camp with our states caption, Ed. It was Thursday when I got a message from Trapper on BoN through my phone. He asked if I was still going to the Blowout since it looked like it was going to rain all weekend. My response to him was, “Hell yea, I am already down there. Come on down we have the party started!” Through several other messages I told him were we were camped, when he planned to be there and made plans to meet. Saturday morning here comes this guy on a bike & a woman on the back riding right up into camp. He stopped and asked where White Rose was. We exchanged hugs and greeting and he rode off. One of the ladies in the PGR asked me if I knew who he was. I said yeap, “He is Trapper John. I know him through BoN.” She laughed and told me that he had made her left breast famous back in the 70s. I got the whole story and realized that Trapper was a bit of a legend in the biker world.

Later that day we all met up again and got to talking about a guy that I had met through BoN and gone out on a date with. Trapper laughed and told me to not take it personally that the guy had decided that it would be better that we remain just friends. He said it was the guys that was missing out on something great! (I love him for his personal support.) He and Carole talked me into going to Bama Bike Fest and the Faunsdale Bike Rally later in the summer. In the picture above you will see the sing he made and hung at the Bama Bike Fest. “No Shirt, No Shoes, Good Service.” That was Trapper. I think he could talk just about any woman out of their shirt. But he was always respectful of the people he took pictures of. If they let him take a picture, but didn’t want it on the internet or in a magazine, he respected that and you would not find a picture that he took of that person anywhere.

Being a single woman I was concerned about attending the rallies by myself. Trapper and Carole told me that I was welcome to camp with them and that they would watch my back. And that they did. Trapper would tell me where it was ok for me to hang out at a rally and where it wasn’t. We would ride around the rally on our bikes and have to make numerous stops before we got back to our camp. Everyone knew Trapper and everyone loved him.

Trapper told me about the Slapout Blowout at Harleywood, which is a little north of Montgomery and told me I should go. I was a bit nervous about going to the gathering since the only people I would know there were him and Carole. He assured me that the guys in the Dixie Biker Association were good people and that I would have a blast…and I did. Other than Carole tripping and breaking her arm, it was a great weekend in the woods. He even talked me into entering the “Strut Your Stuff’ contest and his pointers are what helped me win it against a 19-year-old.

The last rally I went to with Trapper and Carole was Faunsdale last fall. The cancer was taking a toll on him but all of us there were determine to make sure he had fun. Carole, Sandra (another BoN person) and I harassed the “rally virgins” as he watched and laughed. We danced around the fire and had a night that I will never forget.

The last time I saw Trapper was this past June when I was on my way to Deal’s Gap to spend a few days of riding. I knew he was not getting better and the cancer had spread. I had planned to call him and Carole when I got to Montgomery so I could visit for a bit before riding on. Half way between my house and Montgomery I noticed that I was blowing oil from some where. I washed the bike south of Montgomery and rode up I65 to I85. I figured I would get close to where Carole lived, stop and check it out and then call and go see them. I didn’t make it. In some ways I think God had his hand in what was happening that day. Something told me to pull off and check the bike sooner than I had planned. I removed a piece of engine chrome and found that I had a split oil line. I called Carole and she didn’t answer. So I called Trapper and told him I needed help. I told him where I was and he said, “You are only a mile and a half from my house.” I knew he lived somewhere in that area but could not remember how to get to his house. He gave me directions, I put more oil in my bike and made it to his house. He took me to get a line and helped me put it on the bike. We talked, laughed and I cried. Our conversation that day told me that he was tired and that he had come to terms with what was happening in his body. When I rode away a couple of hours later, I knew that for him, he was trying to decide when enough was enough. I let him know the I would not be made at him if he stopped the chemo and meds. He was my friend and though I didn’t want to see him give up and not have him in my life anymore, I also didn’t like seeing him in pain and suffering. I told him that I loved him no matter what he decided to do.

I will always have some of the most wonderful memories of Trapper and doing the rallies together. I am going to miss my friend. And though my pillow will be stained many nights for my loss, I know I will always have those great memories to remember him by. I also know that my friend is no longer in pain and in a better place. Trapper John touched so many people both personally and through his pictures. And though I really didn’t know him long and have not seen the many, many pictures that were published in the biker rags, I knew the man and called him friend. I love you Trapper John and I am going to miss you. But I know you will always live in the hearts of all those that you have touched over the years and you will always be in mine. Rest in peace sweetheart. Enjoy the ride to heaven and give ‘em a little hell!

And the Adventure Keeps Coming

After I left Jeff at the LA/TX I20 state line, I bounced back to the house. On my way I ran into a driver that I have not seen in about 4 years. We ran together from around Shreveport to Jackson and caught up on what has been happening in all that time.  I had forgotten a little about how life on the road can be…good and bad. It was nice to run into an old friends, but the long days in this hotel or that can be tiring. I think I liked life on the road better when I was driving a big truck…sometimes. At least I didn’t have to haul my stuff in and out of a hotel every morning and evening. I just had to turn around and there was home. But on the good side, I don’t have to eat truck stop food, I have a hot shower of bath right in the room with me.

Anyway, on Monday I met a driver in Slidell, LA and escorted him to Anniston, AL. The driver had to wait a bit before we could leave because he didn’t have his MS permit yet. Two hours after I got there we pulled out. The driver was nice and it was an uneventful trip. I had planned to stay with an high school classmate for the night but got a call that I was needed back in the Meridian area the next morning. My friend, Tressie, also called to tell me that her husband and one of her daughters were sick. I opted out to stopping by to see them and went to see another friend in the area. We had dinner at a little BBQ place there in Jacksonville, AL and I headed back toward MS. Around 2200 I was tired and looking for a place to grab a room. At 2330 I pulled into the last rest area in AL on I20 west, moved things around in the back of the Jeep, laid out my sleeping bag and went to sleep. I was rather surprised that I slept so well. Other than dealing with the crack where I had the back seats folded down, I was comfortable. I think I will get me a small memory foam or egg crate thing to lay out back there in case I want to do that again.

The next morning I meet the two driver and I and other flag cars that were going to escort to them AL/GA I59 line. Well, Darlene and I escorted them to the AL/GA line and the other two took them on up to MD. I talked to Kellie, the daughter of the lady I have my Jeep listed with, about going on up to VA and getting my certification for that state. At that time, they really didn’t have anything happening so I started that way. I was half way between Choo Choo and K-town when Mrs. Pat called. They had several requests for cars the next day. Since I was already headed north and that far along, I went on up. I got a room in Bristol, TN for the night. The next morning I was standing at the door when the VA DMV unlocked the door. I took the test and only missed on. I got that one wring because of the difference between FL and VA. (That course in FL helped me pass the VA test.) As soon as I was done I let  Mrs. Pat and Kellie know that I had passed and asked if there was anything up that way. I was told that I there as nothing up there and that I was needed back in MS the next morning. So, I hammered on it to MS.

The next morning Darlene and I were supposed to meet two drivers at the Kewanee T/S. When we got there, there was only one driver. We waited till 0630 to call them since that was the time we were told to meet them. Leroy had not made it to Kewanee, he was over at the Cuba, AL T/S. So, I went and escorted him to Kewanee while Darlene woke up Black Jack. They grabbed breakfast to go and we got rolling. Darlene had told me that Leroy was somewhat of a pill and that he and Black Jack would raise a little hate and discontent between themselves. As HARD as Black Jack tried, he could not get Leroy to take the bait. I don’t think I have laughed that hard in a very long time. They were fun to run with even though Leroy was quite most of the ride.

I had been told that there was a driver over in Laredo going to Macon, GA and would I be interested in the run. Of course, I was. Even though Mrs, Pat and Kellie had to tell the driver that he had to get permits. Yes, he did not know that. I had been given the drivers phone number and gave him a call after I dropped Leroy, Black Jack and Mrs. Darlene at the MS/LA line. The driver told me that this was his first oversize load. He didn’t have the Oversize Load & Pilot Car Directory and I don’t think he had ever heard about it. He also told me that the woman getting his permits was new…this was her first time as well. I told him to give me a call when he got his permits or around 1700. I have a cousin that lives in the Baton Rouge area so I shot her a text and headed that way. She didn’t get off work till 1600 so I had to find a place to sit for about 4 hours. I found a park, fired up my Macbook and worked on my Gear Jammin’ Radio show.

When she got home we went out for dinner and I called the driver…he still didn’t have any permits…not even the TX permit. I told him to give me a call that next morning some time and let me know how things were going. I also looked up the sunrise time for the area for him in case something happened and he got his TX permit. Kellie also called and told me that they had a short one going from New Iberia to the LA/TX I10 line that would give me something to do the next day.

I got up this morning, hugged my cousin bye, and told he I would probably be seeing her often now that I am doing this. she said cool and I headed toward New Iberia. I got there before noon, but the driver was not going to be there till around 1300/1400. I found a McD’s and sat int he parking lot and recorded everything for my radio show. The driver called and said he was not sure about the directions he had gotten. I got them from him and went and scouted it out for him. they directions were dead on. Yes, they sounded squirrelly, but they were right. I went back to the McD’s and emailed the show to the studio.

I then went back to the place where the driver, Jim was going to get loaded. We talked as he strapped down his load and then we tried to get him out of there. The gate he had entered the yard with was not big enough for him to go back out being that long. So I drove around and found him another exit. I wasn’t sure that he would make it out that one either so I went back to his truck and asked him to please come take a look at it himself. He said it would be tight, but he could get out it better than the other one. He was a very nice man and we had an entertaining conversation on our ride to the TX line.

Oh, I forgot, the Laredo driver called me about 1130 and said that he had truck problems this morning and was just now leaving Laredo. I told him that I didn’t figure that he would make it to Orange, TX by the time he was required to shut down for the night. Course, with having a 4 to 7 pm curfew in the Houston area, that was going to make it real hard for him to make it to Orange. I told him to all me when he stopped for the evening and let me know were he was. I dropped Jim at the state line and driver into TX and got a room. As I was checking in my Laredo driver called. He was going to make it to Baytown and then shut down. He also wanted to know what time he could roll in the boring. I got to my room, looked up the sunrise time, did some math and called him back. He told me that he had been told that his permit service had his LA permit, but not his MS. I made a call and found that if he didn’t have it tonight, he would not get it till Monday morning. When I called him back he apologized for the thousandth time about all the mess. I told him that he would  have to stop in Slidell, LA till Monday morning. If he can get his MS permit Monday, he already has his AL so we should be able to make some miles that day. I hope that he will have his GA permit by the time we get there.

Anyone that thinks the pilot car biz is easier than trucking needs to think again. To do the job and do it right, there is a lot of work and expense involved. But with that said, I am still loving it!

First Two Long Runs as a Pilot Car

I escorted a load from Hattiesburg, MS to Jenkinsville, SC. With all the axels he was 76 feet long, 15 feet, 3 inches tall and 12 feet, 11 inches wide. I am sure that it is needless to say that the load was real top heavy. I ran the rear escort and had the pleasure of watching this massive concrete pipe rock and sway and wobble all the way. The scariest was in a construction zone in Alabama. The drivers permit did not route him around it and rather than be off route we went on through it. Being in the back watching him ease through as he took up both lanes, I tried to watch the people coming up on our donkey.  The pipe wobbled several times but I had gotten use to it. Then the lanes opened up to again and we sped up a little. About the time he hits crusin’ speed and I radio him that there is an 18 coming around, he hit a dip in the road. The top of the pipe went so far over to the right that I was not sure that it was going to stop. The flatbed that had been beside me just a few seconds before, was now a tractor/trailer length behind me. Then the pipe rocked to the left and I backed off even more.  The driver slowed down and asked me on the radio if I was nervous now? I laughed and told him that I would not need dinner now because I was full of Jeep seat. He laughed and said that he was going to need to stop and change his panties. The flatbed driver keyed in and confirmed that he also was not sure that it was going to settle down there for a while.

We made it to Madison, GA by the time we were due to shut down. The other escort got a room and I went back into the Atlanta area and stayed with one of my Aunts till Monday morning. Monday we made it into South Carolina. Because of a low bridge we were routed across Columbia. I was told that there was a driver that would be loading down around Columbus, GA the next day. So I went back to Hiram, GA and stayed at my best friend from 1st grade’s house for the night. We had a good visit after not seeing each other for 40 years.

Tuesday I was down at Ft Benning around noon and waited for the driver to get loaded…and I waited…and I waited. The other escort, the driver and I all grabbed rooms in Columbus that night since we were unable to move because he didn’t have any permits yet. This morning I gave the driver a ride back to his truck and then I went back to my room.

At 1030 the other escort and I left the hotel, went on base and waited with the driver for at least his GA and AL permits to come in. The drier said that he wanted to drop down to I10 but that Alabama was sending him to I20. Talk about a round the world tour of Georgia! His Georgia permit had us running out of Columbus across GA26 to I75 to I285, to I85. Then Alabama has us running to Monkeytown through the woods to I20 at Cuba, AL. All this running in circles and routing us this way and that because his gross weight is over 174,000 pounds is adding many miles to the trip. The nice thing is that I am getting paid for them all. the down side, I have bills for White Rose Pilot Car Service that will need to be paid out of it all. So, I am not sure how much of it I will get to “really” keep.

But, hey, I am back on the road where I love to be….

And, all the down time gives me time to get everything done for my radio show, “Gear Jammin’ Radio” that I have to get emailed in to the studio by Friday.

So, I have the road and my radio show. Doesn’t get any better than this!

Childhood Bullies

I went to Iraq after my 3^rd husband tried to kill me to “find” myself. I did that and so much more. I started down a path that would lead me to healing a very old wound, an abuse started way before that, when I was a child in the 4^th grade. Oh yes, I was a confused and angry little girl after my parents divorce, and I would have eventually gotten over it; but then this new girl moved to town and for some reason, she hated me. From the day she met me till we graduated high school I felt like she had made it her life mission to make my life miserable. She would tell me that no one liked me, that I was ugly, that I was stupid and ask me why didn’t I just go away. She was not a pretty girl, in my opinion, so if she was telling me that I was ugly, I really had to be hideous. She was a “book smart” girl so I also believed it when she said I was stupid. I didn’t have many friends but none of them or my classmates ever really did anything to help so maybe she was right that no one wanted me around. Course, to be fair, what could they have done? Anyway, every time she called me Medusa I wished I could go away as well, I really wished I could die.

I came home from Iraq a much different person than I was when I went over there; more confident, independent, and for the first time in my life, knowing who I am. But there was this nagging thing in the back of my mind. I didn’t think about it often but once in while it would get out of the box in my mind that I had so neatly packed it in.

Over the last few years, through Facebook, I have reconnected with many high school classmates. Like many of us do with things like this, there are only a couple that I have really reconnected with. One, Scott, lives not to far from me now down on the coast and the other, Tressie, approached me trying to play cupid. We have hung out a little here and there and talked about “back then.” We have asked questions about different things that happened when we were in school and commented on how funny it is that we are friends now.

Then a year ago I found my best friend, Nanci, from 1^st grade. We talked on Facebook and made plans to meet the next time I was over her way. That day came and went without us meeting but we commented here and there on what the other was doing. Then not to long ago, I was able to stop in and spend an evening with Nanci and her husband and do a bit of catching up. We talked about things we did as kids and laughed at how silly we were. Like we all do when we meet someone again from our childhood, we also wondered how our lives would be different if I had not moved away, or at least I did.

On that same trip, on my way home, I stopped in to see another old high school friend, Tressie. We finally had a chance to talk about our school days and she caught me up on many of our classmates. Then she asked, “What was Amy’s deal with you?” I had asked that question since 4^th grade. I didn’t have an answer then or now. We talked a bit more and I made the comment that what Amy did to me in school laid the groundwork for how I lived my life for so many years. She laughed when I told her that the only reason I went back for our 10-year class reunion was for Amy to say something to me so I could kick her ass. I was driving a truck by then and had found some of my backbone. I was not scared of her any more. Tressie asked me if she did say anything to me. “No, she didn’t, not even hello! And she didn’t say a word to me at our 25^th class reunion either,” I told her.

All these trips down memory lane in recent weeks started me thinking. I asked myself several questions. Why did Amy bully me in school? What would my life had been like if she had not been such a bully? What if I had been then, the person I am today? Does it really matter? Some of those questions I can answer and some I can’t. Only Amy can answer the question as to why she bullied me so much when we were kids. The “what if’s” don’t matter because “what if’s” don’t solve anything and I am just wasting my time thinking about it.  The hardest question to answer was does it matter today? That is a complex answer.

Yes, I went through several different kinds of hell in my life. Some of it I brought on myself and some I didn’t. But to really figure out the true answer to that question I have to re-evaluate a comment I made to Tressie; “What Amy did to me in school laid the groundwork for how I lived my life for many years.” Was that a true statement or not? I have been thinking about that from the moment I said it. This morning I work up with the answer. The statement I made about Amy was a true statement, but not how I meant it when I said it to Tressie. At that time I was thinking about how it lead me to think very little of myself. Because of the lack of self-confidence I allowed myself to be abused and mistreated over and over. I blamed Amy in part for my life being such a mess. But this morning I woke up knowing that the statement really meant something else.

When I went to Iraq I thought that I had only survived the first 38 years of my life. I was determined to quit just surviving; I was going to really live it. And I have. No, it has not always been good or perfect, but it has been fun…and scary…and exciting! And even though that has led me to be a 46 year old disabled woman, I am glad that I have lived it and am where I am and who I am today.

In life, many people will cross our paths. Many will go unnoticed and many others will walk along with us for a while because we have something to learn from them. So Tressie, Scott and Nanci, thank you for being in my life today. You have helped me find a bit more inner peace. Without ya’ll I would not have woke up this morning knowing that I could say the following to Amy and mean it:

“I forgive you for how you treated me when we were kids. You must have had some really messed up crap in your own head to treat another human being as you treated me. I also have to give you my apologies. I know you don’t know it, but I have held a grudge against you for many, many years. That was wrong of me. Because, to quote another saying, “we are the sum of our experiences.” Without you and the first 38 years of my life being as they were, I would not have found within myself the strength to do the things that I have in the last 8 years. “

It is not what happens to you that matters, it is what you do with it afterwards.

THE FACE BEHIND THE WINDSHIELD: ORAL HISTORY & PHOTO ESSAY

Every driver has a story.

I chauffeured my son & his date to the prom in my big truck. They loved it & his friends went wild when we pulled in.

“The Face Behind the Windshield” is an oral history and photo essay project devised to capture the one thing that remains constant among all truck drivers; the love of the road. This project is not about the trucking industry itself, it is about the drivers that sit behind the wheel, what they sacrifice or gain in their dedication to keep America moving and their love of the road.

With the support of the University of Southern Mississippi’s Center for Oral History and Cultural Heritage, I plan to record and photograph as many of these stories as I can over the next year. But I need your help. If you are a truck driver, it does not matter if you have been driving one day, 50 years or more, I want to hear from you. I would like to tell your story through photographs and recordings of your own words. You will receive a digital copy of all photos and recordings as well as the finished product. The finished product could be put on display as an exhibit on the USM campus in Hattiesburg and /or Gulfport, MS, as well as any other places that request it.

If you would like more information or be included in this project, please visit the website or  shoot me an email at whiterose@gearjamminradio.com. Please tell me a little about yourself and how long you have been driving. I will contact you to give you the rest of the details on how the process will work and how the photo and recordings will be gathered. If you are not interested in being a part of the photo essay, the oral history part is still open to you. Just let me know what you are willing to do when you send me a message.

No matter how you see your life and what yo do, others will most certainly find it interesting and exciting. So remember:

There is always a story to be told.

Homeless Veterans: Combat Doesn’t Stop When They Come Home (A Research Paper for College)

In college we write many papers for this or for that. Some of them don’t mean much to me in terms of the subject, but others do. This semester not only was my final paper for my Comp2 class hit close to my heart, but it inspired a topic for the video project in another class, Intro to Media Production. I want to share these two class projects with you in the hope that it will help open your eyes to this tragic situation happening to the people that have put their lives on the line for our freedom, our Veterans.

First is the video project. The song is by Bert Jones and can be found at To The Fallen Records. The actor is a fellow classmate and Iraq Veteran, Houston Hunt.

 

 


Here is the paper I had to write for my Comp2 class. The works cited in this paper are at the end in case you would like to read more on this subject or double check my facts.

Homeless Veterans:  Combat Doesn’t Stop When They Come Home

Before I went to Iraq, I often wondered why I had seen so many homeless veterans on street corners begging for food or money.  Since coming home and learning to deal with my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), and watching my son deal with his, I can clearly see why they are homeless.  Even though the Veteran’s Administration (VA) is treating more veterans every day that suffer from PTSD, and new treatments have been developed over the years, with almost ¾ of homeless veterans suffering from some form of mental illness, they are still missing more than they are treating.  The American public has no idea what PTSD is or how it affects our veterans when they come home.  This lack of understanding directly affects why many veterans are not getting treatment.  It is my belief that the stigma associated with PTSD and the lack of timely, quality treatment for it, are major contributing factors for many veterans to become homeless.

Homelessness, overall, is a growing problem in America and measuring the number of people experiencing it is problematic according to the National Coalition for the Homeless.  In 2007, the National Alliance to End Homelessness estimated that in January 2005, 744,313 people experienced homelessness.  These numbers cannot be use as an exact number of homeless for the month because many homeless people do not use the service providers; the actual numbers are likely to be higher (National Coalition for the Homeless).  According to the National Coalition for Homeless Veterans, veterans make up 23 percent of the homeless population. Of that 23 percent, 76 percent of the homeless veterans suffer from alcohol, drug, or mental health problems.  The lack of family and social support systems compounds the problems with veterans that fall into this 76 percent (National Coalition for Homeless Veterans).  The Veterans Assistance Foundation translates these percentages to mean that 200,000 veteran are homeless on any given night and more that 400,000 experience it over the course of a year.  That means that almost one in four homeless people “sleeping in a doorway, alley, or boxes in our cities and rural communities has put on a uniform to serve our country.”  Of that one in four, most are single, 45 percent suffer from mental illness and 4 percent of them are females (Veterans Assistance Foundation).

To understand who is included in these numbers we need to understand what constitutes being homeless.  The Stewart B. McKinney Act, 42 U.S.C. § 11302, defines the term “homeless” or “homeless individual or homeless person” to be “an individual who lacks a fixed, regular, and adequate nighttime residence; and/or an individual who is living in or using a shelter designed to provide temporary living accommodations” (Office of the Law Revision Counsel).

Though this seems to be a very good definition of who may be considered homeless, it does leave out all those that are temporarily living with family or friends.  My son, Kenny, lived with friends for about a year before coming to live with me. When the Army discharged him because of his PTSD and he finally went to the VA, they told him that since he was living with family, they would declare him as homeless.  Doing that would get him the help and benefits he needed faster.  In an episode of MTV’s “True Life” they focused on three Iraq Veterans suffering from PTSD.  Two of three veterans that were featured, Kenny and Arthur, were living with family or friends, which under the guidelines the Biloxi VA gave Kenny, made them technically homeless (“I Have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder”). This ratio is a reflection of the 76 percent of the homeless veterans that suffer from alcohol, drug, or mental health problems as stated above.

Though PTSD is not just a combat veteran’s illness, and it can develop after any traumatic event that causes intense fear, horror, helplessness, or injury, the most common event leading to a person developing PTSD is combat exposure.  Having PTSD also puts a person at higher risk of developing drug and alcohol problems or for having suicidal thoughts and actions (Mayo Clinic Staff).  It is not known why some people develop PTSD and others do not but many times it depends on a persons past experiences.  How long the trauma lasted, how close the person was to the event, how much the person felt in control of the event and how much support they got after the event are all contributing factors as to how likely a person is to develop PTSD.  According to the National Center for PTSD, “1 out of 3 people with PTSD may continue to have symptom” for an extended period of time.  There are four types of PTSD symptoms: (1) reliving the event (flashbacks); (2) avoiding situations that remind the person of the event; (3) feeling numb; (4) feeling keyed up (hyperarousal), (Department of Veterans Affairs).

All this may lead a person to ask the question; doesn’t the Department of Veterans Affairs take care of the Veterans?  The answer to that question is very complex.  Yes, they do, to a certain extent.  The VA has over 200 specialized PTSD treatment programs (Department of Veterans Affairs) and they are the nations largest provider of homeless services.  This serves around 100,000 veterans annually, which is only 25 percent of the homeless veterans (Veterans Assistance Foundation).  In 2010, the VA’s budget was raised more than 16 percent more than the 2009 budget and the 2011 budget asked for another 10 percent jump, which was $125 billion.  This also includes a directorate of $5.2 billion in funds for the treatment of PTSD, traumatic brain injury and other such problems (Rowland).  The 2012 budget request is another 11 percent, which is $132.2 billion in total.  But it is not enough.

Throwing money at the problem may help but it will not solve it if the veterans that need it are not seeking help because of the stigma, red tape, wait times or quality of care. In 2008 the RAND Corporation published a book detailing the results of s study they did on veterans suffering from PTSD and Traumatic Brain Injuries (TBI) from the Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts.  The study says that out of the almost 1.5 million military personnel returning home, 1 out of 3 reported a mental health problem or TBI symptoms.  Of those, only half sought help. They also found that many returning troops felt that reporting a problem would impact their career (Tanielian, and Jaycox ).  As with my son, Kenny, waiting to report or seeking help can lead to the symptoms getting worse and the military discharging them for medical reason.  Kenny returned home from Iraq in the fall of 2005.  He got married less that 6 months later and went from the National Guard to regular Army a few months after that.  In an interview with Kenny, he said that he knew something was wrong but didn’t want to say anything because he knew he would have problems with the Army if he did. Besides, “you were dealing with your PTSD pretty well so I figured I could deal with mine,” he said. But while on a Spur Run in 2007 he “flipped out”.  He says he was sent to see a doctor and began treatment for PTSD.  When his sergeant found out about it, Kenny says that he gave him a hard time and said he needed to “man up.” It wasn’t long after that Kenny was medically discharged from the Army.  The result of that sparked troubles in his marriage and he was soon separated from his wife, forced to live with friends because he could not hold a job and contemplating suicide (Elliott, Jr.).

Kenny’s story is typical of many veterans with PTSD, but where he had a support system, many do not.  Many veterans have no family or friends or the ones that do, do not understand why their veteran is moody, reclusive, or cannot hold a job.  There are many ways that any civilian can help. Beside donations to their local emergency shelters with personal care items, clothing, food or cash, they can volunteer as mentors, help raise funds for programs, or volunteer at Stand Down programs.  Stand Down programs are two to three day events where homeless veterans can get free shelter, healthcare, food, clothing, VA benefits counseling and much more (National Coalition for Homeless Veterans).

In it’s pursuit to also improve treatment for veterans, the VA issues a Performance and Accountability Report. In the 2010 report they reported that they achieved 54 percent of their goal for improvement with a 34 percent improvement in performance only. The report also states that they spent $534 million to help end Veteran homelessness. This money served 90,000 veterans through outreach initiatives, which is an 11 percent increase from the previous year. They report that 18,00 veterans have received permanent housing as well as created a National Call Center for Homeless Veterans. The center received 7,559 from March 1 through July 31, 2010 (Department of Veterans Affairs).

In addition to addressing the homeless veteran problem and taking steps to improve the situation, the VA recognizes that their mental health services are lacking.  They state that in the “treatment of mental health disorders, the current system fails to support and may even create disincentives to recovery.”  In addition to the VA’s Suicide Hotline, they have stepped up their outreach to suicidal veterans by creating online chat services and monitoring Facebook for veterans that express suicidal thoughts. They have also formed a small workgroup to develop a list of suggestions for devising a new mental health rating (Department of Veterans Affairs).

Though there have been great strides in improving the state of medical care for PTSD suffers and outreach to homeless veterans over the last few years, there is still more to be done. But I believe that much of this needs to come from the American public. Until they realize that veterans are still rapidly becoming homeless and that mental illness is the leading cause, the government is only going fund only what they have to, to appease those that are paying attention.  Awareness is the key to more funding from the government and action from the public will help. In a country that sends millions, if not billions of dollars to forgiven countries in time of disaster, they are blind to the disaster happening on their own doorstep.

Works Cited

National Coalition for the Homeless. “How Many People Experience Homelessness? - National Coalition for the Homeless.” National Coalition for the Homeless, July 2009. Web. 3 May 2011. <http://www.nationalhomeless.org/factsheets/>.

National Coalition for Homeless Veterans. “Background & Statistics - National Coalition for Homeless Veterans.” National Coalition for Homeless Veterans, n.d. Web. 3 May 2011. <http://www.nchv.org/background.cfm#facts>.

Office of the Law Revision Counsel. United States. 42 USC Chapter 119 – Homeless Assistance. , 2010. Web. 3 May 2011. <http://uscode.house.gov/download/pls/42C119.txt>.

“I Have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” True Life. MTV: MTV, Hollywood, 06 Dec 2008. Television. 3 May 2011. <http://www.mtv.com/videos/true-life-i-have-post-traumatic-stress-disorder/1601333/playlist.jhtml#vid=326549>.

Mayo Clinic Staff. “Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).” Mayo Clinic. Mayo Clinic, 08 April 2011. Web. 3 May 2011. <http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/post-traumatic-stress-disorder/DS00246>.

Department of Veterans Affairs. “What is PTSD?.” National Center for PTSD. United States Department of Veterans Affairs, 05 Oct 2010. Web. 3 May 2011. <http://www.ptsd.va.gov/index.asp>.

Department of Veterans Affairs. “Fiscal Year 2010 Performance and Accountability Report.” United States Department of Veterans Affairs, 15 Nov 2010. Web. 10 May 2011. <http://www.va.gov/budget/report/index.asp>.

Veterans Assistance Foundation. “FAQ’s Veterans Assistance Foundation.” Veterans Assistance Foundation, 2011. Web. 8 May 2011. <http://www.veteransassistance.org/faqs.php>

Rowland, Kara. “Vets Salute Obama on Funding.” The Washington Times. The Washington Times, 29 April 2010. Web. 8 May 2011. <http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2010/apr/29/vets-salute-obama-on-funding/>

Tanielian, Terri, and Lisa H. Jaycox. Invisible Wounds of War: Psychological and Cognitive Injuries, Their Consequences, and Services to Assist Recovery. 1^st ed. Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation, 2008. <http://www.rand.org/pubs/monographs/MG720>. Also available in print form.

Elliott, Jr., Kenneth. Personal Interview by Cynthia Morgan. 08 May 2011. 10 May 2011.

Jamie Bates Interview on Southern Miss Today

A few weeks ago I had the privilege to catch USm Alumni, Jamie Bates, over at the Cook Library as he was setting up his exhibit, KKK Project. I ask that you keep your mind open and listen to the interview. The photo essay is not to promote the KKK but to bring awareness.  The photographs are very powerful and if you can not get to the USM campus in Hattiesburg, MS, then be sure to check out Mr. Bates website, www.kkkproject.com.

Jamie Bates Interview [ 11:13 ] Play Now | Play in Popup | Download