Wednesday, July 14, 2021

Guilt is a powerful drug. Chapter 3.

I spent a lot of time with what I first thought was the "Projects Warden". Initially she was very stern with me. And I can understand why. She had already called in Adult Protective Services because she thought "his circle" was robbing him. Eventually I learned this person was the Development Director or something. Her job was to try and get people jobs who lived in the complex.

A few days in, she said she was so suspicious of me because she used to work in retail and became very cynical. ( In my head I think - and you chose THIS place as a refuge?) But I didn't say that at the time. I did later though.

Her only job was trying to wedge my Uncle out of this apartment. And she'd broken a lot of rules because HUD would have tossed him out. A family should be living in that apartment. Not a single man. She had done an extraordinary amount of work finding him a safe place to live. I didn't really understand why at the time. 

About half way in I did ask her how she became less cynical. And truthfully I didn't believe in my heart she had. We are all trying, right? I told her I didn't think anyone was robbing my Uncle. It just didn't make sense. They could have taken everything.

It was then she revealed she had a brother living on the streets with schizophrenia. So, maybe she was chasing the guilt deamon too. I talked to her a bit about her job, and told her to save as many young ones as she could. People take more chances on the young ones. If you don't get good work experience in your 20's, you are completely fucked for life.

I talked to her about the lady helping my Uncle pack. The one trading ear rings at bingo. This woman touched me so much that I wanted to just send a little post card to her sister in Hayward to tell he that she turned out to be a lovely lady. Mr S. said I shouldn't do that. If someone did that to me I would find it sweet but creepy.

But, the Development director said she didn't find it creepy at all. And it was just at that moment the lady walked in. I asked he if it was okay that she gave me her sisters address so I could send her a postcard and tell her how lovely she was. She said - I have to ask my sister. She doesn't even want the family knowing where she lived, she continued.

In my head I was like - oh - this family is fully torched. And it's sad because I think the worse crime a lot of these people did was being born into families who just didn't teach them how to survive. My family didn't teach me how to survive either, but I had to figure that shit out. I saw directly what would happen if I didn't.


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