Structured Life

Hello Everyone,

Yesterday, I had an interesting conversation with our landlord. He is a unique character. I enjoy helping out where I can around here, which having to have supervision twenty four hours a day seven days a week is a challenge. I have been able to do little things around here like shovel the snow around the building, lend a hand with the neighbors, picking up the sticks in the yard after a storm; you know the little things that help out and allow me some exercise. Sweets is ever vigilant watching and / or checking on me making sure I have not had a seizure and wandered off. I “wandered off” a year a go last Spring. I had had a seizure that triggered my form of depersonalization-derealization syndrome. Which by clinical definition I had a psychotic break from reality. Sweets and I were with some friends and they informed us that they believed I was faking everything; the tremors, the memory loss, the actual seizures, the vertigo, everything. These people had become close friends or so I thought. It was not even a nice exchange of thoughts. Basically, I was informed that I had to stop “faking it” and stop having seizures in their presence. So we do not see them much anymore.

Well, the seizure I had had in the Spring of two thousand seventeen, separated me from this time. I came out of the seizure got up once my legs were strong enough and went down the hall to use the restroom, and once I was done, I left out the backdoor of the building. The jingle bells on the back door did not even rattle from what Sweets had said. I was found down in Mount Morris by a Genesee County Sheriff and another friend, who, by God’s leading took a different route home even though it would make her quite late for an appointment. She caught up to me and called nine one one. I had made it down to April Street in about the same amount of time that Sweets had been able to walk home and then walk up to the police station. Our so-called friends, about a dozen of them, had let Sweets go looking for me alone. They were too busy to be troubled to help her look for someone “faking it.” Anyway back to the sheriff and myself. He had me stop walking, even though I could clearly tell that he was a man bigger than I was, I had no intent on stopping. He followed me two blocks and finally convinced me he wanted to talk, just talk. He tried telling me it was April of two thousand seventeen and I would have nothing of it. In my mind after the psychotic break I believed it was August of two thousand eight. He said, “here let me show you on my cell phone.” (I backed away from him, the last cell phone I remembered having was a flip phone, and a friend of mine had was a first generation smartphone.) “Sir, I don’t know what that is, but that is not a cell phone. And as for it being April, your just trying to fool me. We are on April street,” I said.

Eventually, he called for an ambulance and I was taken to a local hospital for observation. Sweets walked in with the two friends that started it all, by their kind words. When the doctor spoke with me he asked where I was going. I replied with, “I was going to Lansing, I have to get back before they open the doors at the mission, so I can get my bed.” He was a little shocked that I was going to walk from Clio to Lansing just to get to the shelter. The interesting thing was; I knew who my bunk mate was, who I had to see the next day, what the weather was like, who was winning the Olympic (I mentioned this in a few posts before), basically, I could recall every single thing from my life in two thousand eight, yet I could not tell you where I actually lived, that I was married, Sweets did not come back into my life until two thousand ten, why I was in Genesee County, I knew nothing of anything here in Clio or of the last nine and a half year. Needless to say, I spent the weekend in the hospital. When I returned home it was so foreign to me. The doctors told Sweets to resume our life, and eventually my acute amnesia would or at least should go away. We attended church, went to the library, went to the Whistle Stop for coffee and a bite to eat, we resumed life. It was nearly four weeks before I had regained some memory of my former self. Sweets and I had gone up to the library and I had to use the restroom so as I was walking down the aisle to go into the men’s room there before me was a person that I did not see all to often. I said, “hey there, (I used her name), how are you?” She stood there mouth open. It was then that I realized I remembered some things. God used her that day to trigger my memory. That was one heck of a rabbit trail from the original story.
I was talking with the landlord yesterday and he was shocked in himself realizing that there are people, homeless people, that live in “a variety of structures” outside in the kind of cold that we get here in the Northern states, I informed him, there are people that live in warmer climates in a variety of structures and when it gets too hot inside those structures they have to get outside with the bugs, and snakes, and lizards. So, basically I would rather live where there is snow and not humidity. Call me silly but an actual wigwam is easier to heat than it is to keep bugs from swarming.
That brings me to another interesting side note. In the area that you live consider the next time you are online and able to print, think about looking up the instructions on how the peoples of the First Nations built their structures. Here in Michigan we have the Wigwam. It is a very functional structure as it sheds rain, snow, and debris easily. Since heat radiates from a fire outward the round dome shape works well. And it does not take much to build one whether it is traditionally built with bent saplings or flexible poles lashed together, like the poles of a dome tent. There are different types of structures from around the world that work well in the area that they originated in. Once you have printed the information off it will come in handy to hand out to those living outside. Those outside may not be appreciative of it at first, spend some time getting to know that person even if it is for only a moment, and they will understand where you are coming from. Nylon tents only survive so long outside being used before they fall apart from constant use.

A challenge we have for you is; find some place you have access to and build a structure and learn what it is like to spend the night in one. Remember research what you are constructing so that you do not have a breakdown of the structure or yourself. Be prepared is a great motto to live by, regardless of what it is in our daily lives that we are trying to accomplish.

Semper Fidelis, Sweets & Elroy

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