Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Here is that story......

Here is that story ... The other day I met my sister on Main Street as she was taking a walk. We sat together awhile until one of the street people showed up with a comforter wrapped around his neck, one rainbow striped sock and one grey work sock on his feet. No shoes. The three of us started talking. The young man said he was an anarchist and atheist. My sister popped into the discount store and came back with three Pepsi’s . She handed him one. He was extremely and genuinely thankful; a bit surprised too I think. We continued to chat until my sister headed home. I continued sitting on the bench and “josh” took a seat on the sidewalk beside the bench I was on.

He talked about living in Montreal and Kitchener and now Cambridge.
“About three months” he answered when I asked how lo

ng he was in town
“I have been kicked out of both shelters because I sleep in late so I sleep wherever I can..on buildings,in school yards,parks and sometimes under bridges” he went on

He told me all the drugs he had said he had tried. Coke at age 8 because his own mother gave it to him. “My street family means more to me than my own real family” he stated

He went on doing the tough guy act and I called him on it. His eyes dampened up and he lifted himself off the sidewalk. He rolled up the sleeves on his jacket and I saw the “crank sores” Crystal Meth. I had already thought so after seeing his teeth.

“I don’t do meth anymore. That stuff will fuck you up” he said when he had seen me looking at the sores.

“I only do hash and weed now” I wanted to believe him but somehow I couldn’t
I see him almost everyday now carrying around the blanket somedays and not on others. Wearing the same socks and same baseball cap. Jeans he had made using dental floss and old fabric. A hat he had decorated and still carries on decorating. The mteal parts of BIC lights crimped along the cap. Some days he is at the library sitting across from me. I wave or say hello. He replies “I am surprised you still talk to me”

Judging someone because they are homeless won’t change their situation.
I signed off the computer and said goodbye.
He waved at me and reminded me that his name was not Josh. “You know my name “
I know his real name but figured when and if he wanted to tell his real name and his whole story; he would.
Sadly ones reputation proceeds and follows them around.
When someone puts on a “thug face” people tend to stand clear. Maybe that is why he does it. Maybe he doesn’t want anyone getting close. Maybe he fears if people get close; they will leave him alone, to his own devices.
Maybe that is why he is alone.
Maybe he chooses solitude over being alone.
Sad ? truth can sometimes be sad
Another person with a different wall of self-protection

On Fashion and Rodney Philpott Designs

On Fashion and Rodney Philpott Designs

When you think of fashion as an art form; where does your mind take you ?
London,Paris,Milan,New York City ?

Rethink that if you can. No longer do you have to travel far for cutting edge designs. It is closer than you think. Much closer.

This coming Wednesday ; Rodney Philpott Designs will open its doors at 22 Main Street in Cambridge.

Rodney has been designing clothes since he was only sixteen years of age.
With a unique vibe his creations are like nothing I have ever seen.
Fashion infused with art. How fashion should be.
Eighty percent of his designs are custom made; as each piece of artistic apparel is as individual as the consumer. People are not cut from a cookie cutter so why should design? Show your own personality.

There are also some prĂȘt a porter or ready to wear pieces .

In prom season 2012; Rodney has created and sold between 130 and 140 prom dresses !
What makes Rodney Philpott Designs stand apart from others ?
He ensures and will let the consumer know if someone else from the same school has ordered the same dress. We are all individuals ; so too should our personal styles.
Why should fashion magazines dictate what fashion is to you. Let you show your flair, your vim and vigor. Let your colorful personality shine through.

All of Rodney’s artistic apparel is designed and made on site; not in some far offshore lands .
Pulling up stakes from Toronto; Rodney and partner Christopher now live and are proud to call Cambridge home.
Stay tuned to fashion when Rodney Philpott Designs has its Grand Opening September 22 2012

Rodney Philpott Designs
22 Main Street Cambridge
519 624 0959
www.rodphilpott.com

Saturday, August 11, 2012

He is not the only one

A friend I had once and still think of often; Michael Baskett told me that he picked up cast away pennies on the streets. He saw value in everything and everyone. Some people are cast away to fend for themselves on the streets; made to feel like they have no value.  This is just one story of many people; even here in an average sized city . Cambridge Ontario. Michael had it right. There is value in everything and everyone. We are one .


He’s not the only one

Everyone of us has a story to be told.  Some want the story to be told while others do not.
I see him most every day as I walk the streets of downtown Cambridge.  He sometimes mutters to himself; sometimes loudly but not always.  Not today.  I offer him a cigarette.
“No thanks; today I have my own…but thanks bud”
The light changed to red and I stood waiting at the corner for the light to change. He caught up to me and I seen him give me a side glance but he quickly turned his eyes away from me.
Before you tell me that perhaps I enable him; let me say this.  I would sooner see him, others  too, have a smoke from a fresh pack then to see them bend at a curbside and dig through discarded butts; stained by rain and who knows what else.  Smoking a butt from the street can perhaps carry hepatitis and a gamut of other problems.
He mutters loudly again aiming his words at no one in particular. I know I have seen him some nights huddled in bank lobbies; away from the wind, the rain, the snow and the cold.
“Sometimes people too” he says “Sometimes people can do more bad on a person than the elements of weather”  He points at one bank lobby and says “Not tonight.  Tonight is a warm night.  I sleep outside”
“aren’t you afraid of sleeping outside?  Afraid people may hurt you?”  I ask
He laughs loudly.  “Look at me Bud!  I talk to myself.  I swear a blue streak.  I wouldn’t say I am clean by any stretch.  They are probably more afraid of me”
I don’t know where he is walking but he is still walking beside me.
Me. I just walk to think. To clear my mind.
When people ask me” Where are you going?” ;  I often say “anywhere and everywhere”
Sometimes the walk itself is the destination.
We walk on. We are close to Shade Street now.  He points.
“You can see all of downtown from there.”  He points to Centennial Park.  I know this already.  There are times that I; myself sit there and look down onto Main Street.
“The thing is this..there is no middle ground anymore..You have the rich and the poorest of the poor..there are food banks and soup kitchens and shelters…I do not utilize any of them. I know some who abuse them; literally eating food that could have gone to those who really need it.  Some of those places need stricter guidelines and rules need to be enforced at shelters. No turning a blind eye to what goes on that shouldn’t. I have been in and out of town-Niagara Falls..London..Brantford..Toronto..” He rhymed off towns and cities incessantly and then saying..
“I know there are people far worse off than myself.  I manage to scrape up enough food to fill my belly and no I do not steal to fill it !  That is the thing with most people.  Pile a plate high in front of most people and they will clear the plate; even if they are no longer hungry”
He suddenly mutters, raising his hands and paces the sidewalk ; swearing and yelling “even all my clothes !”
More than being frightened and not understanding what he meant; I felt sadness.
It is not like a person chooses to have a mental illness or a drug user.
Something led them there.  I think the saddest part of all is that some people just view them as “junkies” or “crack whores” or “nut jobs”
He looked at me and said he had to be going.
“Can I get that smoke now Bud?  I don’t have any.  I just didn’t want to bother and have you think I am just a bum”
“My name’s Joe” I responded, handing him a smoke.
“No bother Bud; I will likely forget it by later today.”
He took the smoke and walked up Shade Street, hands in the air muttering until he disappeared out of view.
Everyone of us has a story. Maybe in everyone’s story ; there are lessons to be learned.
I just wonder if anyone cares about his and anyone else’s story or are we only concerned how our own story ends.

Joe Lethbridge
June 5th 2012