Trump

  As I wrote previously, I am a political junkie.  If there is a national candidate for something in town or around, I will try to see the person.  And, as I stated previously, please don't comment one way or another regarding a candidate or what I say in the story.  It just is how I perceived them at the time.

 Donald Trump had recently announced that he was running for President.  It was around June 2015.  Senator Tim Scott was holding a candidate forum at the Koger Center for the Performing Arts in Columbia.  Trump was the invited speaker.  

 I first learned about Donald Trump back in the late 1980's.  He had written a book called "The Art of the Deal" which was a best seller.  I was dating a girl at the time who loved that book and was enamored by Trump.  I really couldn't compete with him.  Later, when "The Apprentice" became popular, we sold Trump board games and Trump talking dolls.  They really didn't sell very well, and we had to put them on clearance.  I bought up a bunch of them and sold them to collectors online.

 When I arrived at the Koger Center, I found out that you needed to get tickets to the event.  The tickets didn't cost anything, but they had limited seating.  They put me with a group without tickets that would get standby seats.  Those with tickets got to stand in the shade.  My group had to stand in the sun.  I learned a valuable lesson, which was get a ticket.  They opened the doors, and my group had to wait patiently.  They finally sat the ticket holders, and then let us come inside to sit in the balcony.  We had to go through metal detectors.  That was the first time I had to do that to see a candidate.

 When Trump came onstage, he got a very long-standing ovation.  He spoke for about an hour.  My impression at the time was that he spoke without saying anything.  There was no substance in his speech.  It was mostly about poll numbers.  Senator Scott interviewed him after his speech.  When the senator would ask Trump a question about policy, Trump wouldn't answer the question.  For example, Trump was asked about what he would do about Isis.  Trump's response was that he had a plan for it, but he wasn't going to tell people what it was, because he didn't want Isis to hear about it.  When asked about the economy, Trump said he had a plan for that, but he didn't want his fellow candidates to hear about it.  It went on from there.  Education?  Health Care?  Poverty?  He had a plan for it, but he wasn't going to say what it was.

 He did get several standing ovations from the crowd, including me.  I didn't want to stay seated for fear of some of those folks in the crowd.  My thighs started to hurt from all of the standing and sitting.  When the program was over, the crowd filed out of the auditorium.  I headed over to where his motorcade would be and saw the cars pulling out.  I ran up the hill to Assembly Street and was the only one on the sidewalk.  Trump's SUV was passing by.  He was in the front passenger seat with the window down.  I was six feet away.  I waved at him, and he waved back at me.  He then put up the window, and they headed for the airport.  I was the last person he waved at in Columbia, I guess.  Little did I know that I waved at a future President, and he waved back at me.

Bernie

 The Progressive Network was having a luncheon in early April 2015, and the MTRA was invited to come and be recognized for our work in getting better bus routes and schedules for the riders.  Senator Bernie Sanders of Vermont was giving the keynote speech at the luncheon.  It was a cold day, but he probably thought it was warm.  Weather is relative, depending on what part of the country you are from.

 When it came time for our recognition, Bernie hadn't gotten there.  He was running late.  We stood up to the applause of those in the room.  Some gave us a standing ovation.  I kind of wished Bernie had been there.  Just after we sat down, Bernie and his wife walked into the room.  Maybe our standing ovation was really for him.  As you may know, I am a political junkie.  I love being around political figures, even if I may not agree with everything they say.  

 Bernie got up to speak.  He spoke on many things.  After each subject, he would ask the crowd if we thought he should run for President.  He hadn't announced yet.  Many of the folks in the audience would yell out yes.  It was more like a campaign rally than a speech honoring the folks in the room that had made a difference.  Even though he hadn't announced, it was obvious to me that he would soon.  A couple of weeks later, he announced that he would run for President.  He got a boost that day at the luncheon.  

 The MTRA bylaws state that we can't officially endorse a candidate for office.  It is one of those things in the regulations for non-profits.  If one does, they are at risk of losing their non-profit status.  The IRS doesn't allow it, if it is brought to their attention.  I went away that day liking some of his proposals, but not all.  One thing that you have to watch out about politicians is that they make promises that there is no way they can keep.  It may be too expensive to do, or it goes against the beliefs of the majority of voters.  It may sound good, but implementation is a whole other ballgame.  2015-16 would be my opportunity to see and hear a bunch of candidates.  I was in hog heaven.

Accomplishments

  There were many accomplishments that we had with the MTRA and working with The Comet.  I have noted a few previously, but some need to be repeated.  As I stated earlier, we had an advantage with our suggestions, because neither the executive director nor the planner were from Columbia.  The key to all of these things was that we saw a need and figured out a way to get it done.  Some were based on surveys of our riders.  There was one thing though that I had to filter out.  If one person wanted a change, it may have been because that person had a vested interest.  However, if more than one person wanted the same change, then we looked at that situation more fully.  You can't please everyone, but we tried to please as many as we could

 Sundays:  I have already mentioned this change, but it was very important to workers and church goers.

 Holidays:  I have already mentioned this change, as well, but we were surprised how many businesses were open on some holidays.

 Libraries:  We wanted to get a bus to every public library in Richland County.  There is now service to every one except Ballentine, which is too far out.

 The Zoo:  Riverbanks Zoo is in the top ten zoos in the country.  The nearest stop to the zoo is across a freeway bridge.  Walking to it would be dicey, especially for those with small children.  We got buses to go to the zoo.  It has since been amended to people calling an hour ahead of time to alert a route's driver to detour to it, but it is still doable.

 Downtown:  We proposed two downtown routes.  One would go North/South, and the other would go East/West.  They would serve Five Points, the State Museum, the Art Museum, Edventure, the Colonial Life Arena, the Convention Center, the State House, downtown shopping, and across the river into Cayce.  At first, it was free to ride.  Now, The Comet charges $1 to ride.  It was designed to help tourists explore downtown, as well as getting State workers to restaurants on their lunch hours.  Parking is at a premium downtown, so a bus was helpful to get around.  There is also a bus that goes to the baseball stadium at Bull Street during the season.

 Sandhills:  I have already mentioned this route and our recognition by Richland County Council.

 Hospitals:  As with libraries, we saw the need to get buses to go to all of the hospitals in Richland and Lexington counties.  One friend worked at Lexington County Hospital.  Her car broke down, and she had to walk 3 1/2 miles to work one morning.  She didn't have to do that anymore.  On average,  400 hospital workers ride the bus each day in Richland and Lexington counties.

 Crosstown:  One of the bus routes that was eliminated in 2010 was the Crosstown route.  It went from Dutch Square Mall to the Midlands Tech campus on Rosewood without coming into town.  One of my board members named Marsha fought hard to get that route put back.  It now goes from St. Andrews Road to Walmart on Garners Ferry.  It is a two-hour roundtrip, but well worth it.

 Midlands Tech:  We found that the several campuses of Midlands Technical College could be served by the buses.  The main campus on Rosewood was easy.  The one in Northeast Columbia required a short detour, but it worked.  The one out by the airport required us to also focus on Vocational Rehab to get that done.  We also worked to get that bus to go by the Columbia Metro Airport.  The Comet was reluctant at first, but we showed how it wouldn't cost much more money and gas to get it there.  It goes there now.  Also, the bus to the Airport campus only ran twice a day originally.  If someone had an early class, they couldn't go to work afterwards.  Now, it goes at least five times a day to accommodate the students.  The last campus is in Batesburg-Leesville in Lexington County.  There is a pilot program to get a bus out there at least once a week.

 Photo Id's:  The Comet wanted to give half-fare rides to those over 65 or having disabilities.  They needed to issue photo id's to the riders who qualified.  They wanted to charge $5 for the first id.  We pointed out that most of those riders live on fixed incomes, so we got those id's issued for free.

 Amazon:  There is an Amazon fulfillment center in Lexington County near Cayce.  We worked with The Comet to get a bus to go by there, because the nearest stop to that place was about 3 miles away with very few sidewalks.  

 We have had other accomplishments with the MTRA, but these are just some of them.  One we have proposed would be one to go down Lake Murray Boulevard, across the dam, and to Walmart on Hwy 378 in Lexington.  It would benefit a whole bunch of people, including recreation at the lake.  Maybe one day.

Holiday

  There was a woman on a bus one day complaining about not being able to get to work on Memorial Day.  There were six holidays that the buses didn't run:  New Year's Day, Memorial Day, 4th of July, Labor Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas.  I don't know if the woman recognized me from the numerous local TV interviews I had done, or maybe she just wanted to vent, but I asked her where she worked.  She said she worked for Richland School District One, and she couldn't get to work, because she rode the bus.  I had no clue that schools were open on Memorial Day.

 I went to the next Comet Board of Directors meeting and brought up the woman's complaint.  There were two Richland County Council members on the Board, and they said they didn't know schools were open on that holiday either.  News doesn't travel fast in Columbia.  I suggested to the Board that she couldn't be the only one to have that problem of not being able to get to work.  The proposal was sent to a committee for discussion.

 In the committee meeting, there was debate about which holidays that the buses should run.  The State workers might be off those days, but service and retail workers probably had to work.  So, I made a deal with the Comet on behalf of the riders.  If the bus would run on New Year's Day, Memorial Day, 4th of July and Labor Day, I would let the drivers off on Thanksgiving and Christmas.  I tried to sell it to the Comet by saying that those two holidays were the ones that drivers needed to be with their families.  I don't think the union representing the drivers were too keen working on Labor Day, but it meant more money in the pockets of the drivers, so they said yes.  I then went to the MTRA Board to tell them of the deal.  They agreed that it was a good idea.  Then, we presented it to our membership, and they seemed very happy.  It was a good deal.

 The only downside to the deal was something I discovered later.  Two churches in Columbia did a Thanksgiving Day meal at the Coliseum every year.  Those folks who needed that meal were those who had nowhere else to go.  Many people couldn't get downtown without the bus.  It was a need that couldn't be fulfilled, but I had made the deal with the Comet.  They weren't willing to go back on the deal just because of one event on that day, so I just hoped that folks could find their way to the site.  

Media

  Being the president of the MTRA meant that I was the face of the association.  It also meant that I needed to do media interviews.  My vice president had some contacts in the local media, which helped us get noticed.

 He reached out to the editor of The State newspaper.  We got an appointment to see him.  It was supposed to be a 30-minute meeting that lasted over two hours.  The result was a nice article in The State about our work.  We were put on the map.  That led to a TV appearance on WACH.  It was for a show called "On Point" with Cynthia Hardy.  Keith and I went to that.  She did a nice interview with us.  I was asked back to be part of a focal group on Black History Month.  There were three of us on that show.  I was the only one from the MTRA.  At the end of the show, Cynthia turned to me and asked if I had anything to add.  The words that came out of my mouth were words I had not planned to say.  I said, "History is important, because it helps you move forward."  Where did this profound sentence come from?  I was inspired.

 The next show I went on was "Awareness" on WIS.  It was a show geared toward African-Americans, and I was there to talk about our work to get better bus service to Lower Richland and Downtown Columbia.  My main message involved something that Edventure Children's Museum did for the schoolchildren of Lower Richland.  Edventure gave 400 passes to the children to come to the museum.  The problem was that many of the children couldn't get there without public transportation.  That was the catalyst for our work in getting them to downtown easily.

 Keith and I went on WOLO for an interview about our work.  It was a short interview, but we made our points about the need for better routes.  The only TV station in Columbia that didn't have us on was WLTX.  We made several overtures to them, but they didn't seem interested.  I even reached out to two of their anchors and one reporter to see if we could get an interview.  I always got the same response.  They would have to check with their producers.  I cornered a producer at an event.  He seemed interested, but I never heard back.  One of the places Keith and I did go was on the radio.  We did two shows with Frank Knapp.  

 A reporter from the Free Times weekly newspaper used me to comment on anything that came up regarding transit.  I also wrote a couple of editorials for that newspaper.  That was what it was like being the face of the MTRA.  And, I really enjoyed doing those appearances.  After all, writing and being in front of a camera is what I do best.

Logo

  As the Midlands Transit Riders Association was beginning to take shape, I felt that we needed a logo to distinguish us from the Comet.  Our business cards showed a generic bus on the road.  We needed something more unique.

 I contacted Richland School District One for help.  After all, the bus system (Comet) had a contest for their naming.  I spoke with the head of the Art classes for the District, and she said she would ask the schools to suggest a logo.  First prize would be a 30-day bus pass.  I waited a month and never heard anything.  I had then seen a story on the news about the Transitions Homeless Shelter that had an Art class.  A homeless person would benefit more from the 30-day bus pass, so I made an appointment to talk to the man in charge of the class.  We had a nice talk.  I told him that I had been homeless, so he took an interest in what I wanted from his class.  I never heard back.

 While I was patiently waiting for either group to respond, we had a quarterly meeting of the association.  I asked those that were there if they had any suggestions for a logo.  We got some suggestions, but they just didn't seem appropriate.  So, I asked a friend, who was a graphic designer, if he knew of anyone who could design a logo for us and would work for free.  He said he would give it a go.  My friend was a professional.  I told him we couldn't afford to pay him.  He told me he would do it out of friendship.  He designed a logo that was an abstract picture of motion.  When I presented it to the Board of Directors, I got criticism that it looked like slices of pizza.  There were some on the Board who would object to everything.  They suggested that I put it to a vote at the next membership quarterly meeting.  

 When the meeting came around, I put it on the agenda for a vote.  Some of the members present wanted to know why their suggestions weren't being voted on.  I explained that we discussed those suggestions, and they didn't seem viable.  There was opposition to the new logo, but it passed.  Anyone wonder why I needed professional counseling during my stint as President of the MTRA?  Those who opposed the logo would also say the sky was green, when it was blue.  And, I offered the 30-day bus pass to the artist, but he suggested we give it to a rider, so we had a drawing for it.  Someone was happy to get it.  I was just happy that we had a logo.  It wasn't slices of pizza.  I guess art is in the eye of the beholder.

Financial

  The MTRA was starting to get recognized in the community.  We wanted to have an office downtown, so that we could do the work we wanted to do.  We had been using the Modjeska Simkins house as our base of operations.  It was where to Progressive Network had their office.  We were using their copier for our mailings and brochures.  We were using their meeting space for our Board of Directors to meet.  It would be better to have a place of our own.  There was a house just one block up the street from the Simkins house that was zoned for business, so that seemed like a good place.  It was available.  

 I spoke to a friend at the United Way and asked if he could check around town and see if we could get any donations.  He came back to me about a week later and said that several companies were interested, but we needed a 501c3 for them to donate, so that they could take the donation off on their taxes.  I reached out to the hospitals in town and got the same response.  Keith heard from the Walmart Foundation.  They were willing to give us a sizeable amount, but we needed a 501c3.  No one on our Board knew much about how to go about getting a 501c3, so one of our Board members suggested a friend who was a financial planner.

 The man came to our meeting and said that he could help us out for free.  Free was good.  As I mentioned earlier in a previous story, we were working off of a shoestring.  We were paying for our own stuff, except what we got for free from the Progressive Network.  We were mailing out at least 150 envelopes a quarter, and sometimes more.  We were buying our own stamps and envelopes.  We bought our own business cards.  We bought our own post office box.  All of which came out of our own pockets.  The planner said he would get the paperwork together and send it off to the IRS.  He also said he would help us get grants from the government and people interested in transit.  I had created a budget for the Association based on estimates for an office, utilities, insurance, office supplies, and more.  We also needed a car to travel around town and elsewhere for Association business.  One of the stipulations to be on the Board of the MTRA was that one needed to be a bus rider.  That meant no car.

 So, we gave the planner everything he needed and waited.  We waited.  We waited some more.  After a few months of waiting, his friend called him and asked how the process was going.  He said that he hadn't gotten around to it.  It turned out that the planner wasn't a planner after all.  He had run into some legal problems in Orangeburg and skipped town.  Thankfully, he didn't have any of our social security numbers.  Just our budget.  So, no office, copier, car, nor big donations.  We did find that we could reserve a meeting room at the library for free, so that is what we did.  And, a friend at the library allowed us to meet in their auditorium for free for our quarterly membership meetings.  Free was good.

Sandhill

  There is a shopping area out Two Notch Road in Columbia called the Village at Sandhill, but most people just call in Sandhills.  It is an area with a lot of stores, many of them upscale, in the area.  There are also some apartments and condos in the Village.  Ironically, across the street is a Walmart and Target.  We wanted to get a bus out there, but many of the residents and business owners didn't want one.  They never said it directly, but they implied that the bus riders didn't fit into their places.  After all, only thugs and gangs rode the bus.  That was their opinion.  One thing I hate is stigmas.  It borders on racism, in my opinion.

 I went to the Comet with the suggestion of getting a bus to Sandhills.  They had just gotten a new route planner who had come from Florida.  He took a car out that way and was amazed how many businesses were out there.  He came back and agreed with me that we needed a bus to Sandhills, despite the opposition from the elite.  Many employees of those stores rode the bus.  However, the Comet's Board of Directors were not all on board of putting a bus into a wealthy region.  Some wanted to maintain a bus presence in downtown Columbia and not venture out to Sandhills.  They had heard the criticism from that community, too.  

 My VP Keith and I made an appointment to see the Richland County Councilperson who represented Sandhills.  We told her what the benefits would be to have a bus go to that location.  She agreed with us.  Meanwhile, a woman in a wheelchair went to the Comet's Board of Directors and told them that she worked at the movie theatre out there and needed to get there, without depending on people to take her.  Between her story and our work, we were able to get a bus to go to Sandhills.  The Richland County Council recognized Keith and me at one of their meetings.  That recognition also validated the Midlands Transit Riders Association with the council.  When we spoke, they listened.  That clout would help us moving forward.  It also showed the county that we could get things done, when others were unsuccessful.  It also showed the merchants out there that not all bus riders were thugs or in gangs.

Comet

  The Columbia bus system was looking for a name that would be succinct,  and also a color scheme that would catch the eye.  They put out a request to all of the local schools to ask students to come up with a name.  The winning entry was The Comet.  The student took the current acronym of CMRTA (Central Midlands Regional Transit Authority) and thought of something in motion to come up with The Comet.  It was a bit ironic that the buses could be slow and off schedule, but the name stuck.  The color scheme for The Comet buses and stop signs was presented by a local ad agency.  When I saw it, my immediate response was that it would give me "acid flashbacks".  Folks laughed at that, but I was truly worried.  The colors were altered a little to give it the look of what a comet might look like in a modern flair.  We looked at numerous designs for the bus stops.  The current bus stop signs were attached to telephone poles.  We wanted something that visitors to the city and first-time riders could see easily.  We incorporated the Comet colors with route numbers and later schedules at the stops.  The height of the signs, which were attached to their own poles, were chosen so that people walking down sidewalks could see them from a distance away.  

 The Comet wanted to recognize the student that came up with the idea for the name.  They wanted to give the person an award, but they didn't know where the student went to school other than his name.  I told one of the Comet Board members that I was pretty good at finding people.  I had been taught that from my days working with the federal government back in 1980.  I had a name and the internet.  I knew about how old the boy was by now and started searching local high schools.  After emails to some schools, I found a boy by that name.  There was one problem.  The school told me that he was in a criminal gang, and that he was currently incarcerated in a juvenile prison.  I went back to the Comet and reported what I had found.  They weren't pleased.  They didn't want the face of the Comet to be a gang banger.  So, the plans were scrubbed to recognize him.

 A few years later, one of the MTRA's Board members ran into a guy on the street.  He said that he had come up with the Comet name and wished he had been recognized by the folks there.  My Board member went to the Comet with the news.  It turned out that there were two guys by the same name and age in Columbia.  I had picked the wrong one.  Thankfully, the Comet was able to give him the award he deserved.  I wish that I had searched further and not given up after finding out about the gang member.  Two different guys.  The same name.  The same age.  The same city.  Different high schools.  What were the odds?  I was never a very good gambler.  

Flume

  Back around 1968, a group of six boys from First Baptist Church in Columbia went to Atlanta for an overnight trip with our Youth Minister.  That night, we went to a Braves baseball game.  The next morning, we went to Six Flags over Georgia.  I love Six Flags and have been there many times.  In fact, I have also been to the one in Texas and the one outside St. Louis.  

 On this particular trip, we wanted to do something that no one else had done, as far as we knew.  We found the Log Flume ride and wanted to cram as many of us in the one log.  There was no rule how many people could be in one log, so we devised a plan.  There was one kid in our group that new something about weight distribution, so he suggested that we get in by how much we weighed.  The heaviest would be in the front of the log, and the lightest would be in the back.  That way, we would get more speed going down the last hill.  The other part of the plan was that we figured that water could go over the top of the log due to the weight, so if that happened that some of us would be in charge of baling the water out of the log to avoid us sinking.  

 So, we went up to the ride and asked permission of the operator to let us all get in the log.  They weren't happy about that, but there was no sign stating a maximum, so they had to let us try it.  The heaviest boy was short, so we put him in the leg opening under the front of the log.  Then each of us, including our chaperone, got into the log one by one and crammed in as close as we could.  I was next to last and inside the log.  The seventh boy and lightest was actually sitting on the top of the log in the back.  The operator told us he couldn't do that, so we squeezed him in.  We had seven people in a log really made for four.

 The ride started.  The first thing we noticed was that water was coming over the sides, and we were afraid of sinking, so three of us began baling.  When the log started going into the first turn, those not baling were pushing off of the side of the rail to keep from flipping over.  We then figured out that if we leaned away from the curve, we wouldn't be in danger of flipping over.  We had to react backwards from what would be a normal reaction on that ride just to stay moving.  Things were going well, although the log was moving slower than usual due to the weight.  Then, we got to the last hill.  

 There was some debate amongst us as to how we were going to approach that last hill.  Our original thought was to lean back going up the hill and then lean forward going down the hill for maximum speed.  There were those who wanted to do that, since we wouldn't get so wet.  But then, another problem arose.  Some suggested that if we were to all lean forward that the log might flip over at the bottom of the hill from the weight.  We weren't keen on drowning, so we decided to do something differently.  Going up the hill, we all leaned forward to allow the chain to take us up easier.  Going down the hill, we all leaned backward to keep the log from flipping over.  This meant that we would get very wet from the splash, but it was better than drowning.  We survived.  We cheered.  We got up to the end of the ride, and the operator was pretty mad.  Some officials from Six Flags were also mad.  But, we did it.  Seven people in a log made for four.  We felt that it we had an unofficial world's record for the number of people you could get into a log at Six Flags.  I dare say we still have that record.  And, Six Flags has a sign on the ride now that says no more than four to a log.  Guinness should have been there to validate our achievement.

PBS

  Because I live below the poverty level, I get Food Stamps (SNAP).  I also get Medicaid.  Back in 2011, I started getting Medicaid.  It seemed pretty good, because I had also been getting indigent care from two doctors and a hospital.  Those folks could bill Medicaid for some procedures, I thought.  Upon further research in 2013, I found that Medicaid was different whether one was a man or a woman.  If I was a single woman with dependent children, Medicaid would cover just about everything.  By being a man, the only thing I could get for free was a vasectomy.  That just didn't make sense.  A woman with a bunch of kids could get everything.  They would pay for a man not to have children.  I didn't take the free offer.

 A provision in the Affordable Care Act would give the states the option to take an expansion to Medicaid which would help people like me get quality care.  Yes, it would cost the states money to opt into the program, but it would help so many residents to get healthcare that they couldn't afford.  It was estimated that up to 500,000 people or more would have been helped.  Our governor decided not to do the Expansion.  So, in January 2014, I was asked to participate in a rally at the State House to oppose her decision.  People came from all over the state to protest and beg the governor to reconsider.  

 I spoke at a press conference that was held inside the State House near the governor's office.  "Enough Is Enough" was the slogan of that day.  There were TV stations from around the state there, as well as some national outlets.  I was interviewed by the Charleston newspaper.  I told the reporter that I was 60 years old and couldn't get Medicare for 5 more years.  I told him that I just prayed that I wouldn't get a catastrophic illness until then, because I couldn't afford it.  I could get a free vasectomy.  

 We went out on a stage behind the State House for the rally.  There was a group that brought a casket and set it in front of the stage to symbolize all those people who could die without the Expansion.  I had prepared a speech that I thought would be quite powerful, but I wasn't asked to speak.  Too bad.  I would have brought that crowd to a frenzy.  It was called "I'm Tired".  Basically, it had to do with me being tired of politicians not doing stuff for the State, but rather for only certain constituents.  It would have been a barnburner. January in Columbia can get pretty cold.  I had on four layers of clothes.  The wind coming around that stage was brutal.

 After the rally, we went  to a holding room at the Treasurer's office.  PBS was there to interview some of us who had been to the press conference.  Time was tight, so they only got a couple of people on camera.  The PBS reporter said that she wanted to interview me later and wanted to do so at my apartment. I gave her and her cameraman the directions, and they said they would be there later in the afternoon.

 Late that afternoon, the two folks from PBS showed up.  The cameraman was based in DC, and the reporter was from Denver.  She wanted to interview me about the lack of Medicaid Expansion in SC, and how it has directly affected me.  Because of my Beatles memorabilia in my apartment, I asked the cameraman not to shoot that, because I didn't want to advertise what I had.  I also told him that there were rules about shooting the outside of the apartments for privacy reasons.  MIRCI is very clear in the lease about that.  He agreed to those requests.  I moved some things around in my apartment to get a clear shot of me.  We talked for almost two hours.  At one point, they wanted me to go to my refrigerator and take out a TV dinner and go to the microwave to cook.  It had to do with not being able to eat healthy.  It took a couple of tries to get the thing right.  

 As they were leaving, the reporter told me that it would be on the PBS News Hour in a couple of weeks.  I walked them out to their car.  The cameraman wanted a shot of me going to my apartment, so I headed back inside.  I turned around and saw them leave.  He didn't film me going back in.  I guess they wanted to go.  But, I wasn't boring.  A couple of weeks later, I received an email from the reporter.  It was going to be on that night.  I watched intently.  My picture was shown from being on stage at the rally.  And then came the interview.  They were in my apartment for two hours.  The interview lasted about a minute, which included my walk from the refrigerator to the microwave.  But, I did get on PBS.  And, the governor refused our plea to take the Medicaid Expansion that would helps thousands of our citizens.  Thankfully, I didn't have a catastrophic illness before getting Medicare.  Only by the grace of God.

Heflin

  A few months before my Mother died in 2004, she had expressed that she wanted to be buried next to her mother and father in Heflin, Alabama.  My brother and I wanted to do what she had asked, but it was just too expensive to do that.  Also, there was already a joint gravestone made for my father and mother in Magnolia Cemetery in Greenwood, South Carolina.  The only thing missing from the stone was the date of her death.  There was also a burial plot for her at that cemetery, so we decided it would be best for Mother to be buried in Greenwood.  Incidentally, there is one more plot in our family section in Greenwood, and that is reserved for me.

 Mother loved Alabama.  She was born there.  She went to college there.  Her college was called Alabama College.  It was an all girls school.  The name was later changed to the University of Montevallo.  She always pulled for the University of Alabama football team (Roll Tide!).  The Merrill name was synonymous with Alabama.  My brother and I had agonized about our decision to bury Mother in South Carolina, so he got the idea to honor her by placing a memorial stone in the Merrill family plot at the cemetery in Heflin.  It was a wonderful idea.

 The plan was to do a small service at the cemetery in September, 2013.  It would be an overnight stay, so I went online to search for a motel room for me.  There was a motel in Heflin, but they had terrible reviews about bedbugs.  I found a good motel in Oxford, Alabama which was about 20 miles away.  The motel was just down the street from the old Motel Samantha, where I almost drowned in their swimming pool as a kid.  I have written about that story earlier in the blog, but I am very grateful that God put that soldier there that day.  My brother rented a car for me to drive to Alabama.  I left on Sunday.  The service was to be on Monday.

 When I got to the motel in Oxford, I checked in and drove over to Heflin.  If you have ever been on I-20 into Alabama from Georgia, Heflin has a sign.  It is a small town and the Cleburne county seat.  I drove over to where my Mother's family lived.  The old house was torn down years ago and is just an empty lot.  After my Grandfather died in 1958,  my Grandmother built a house next door to the old homeplace.  It was next door to the Heflin Baptist Church.  I stopped in the parking lot and began to take pictures of the place.  My Grandmother died in her home in 1969.  Later, it became the law office for my Uncle Carl until his death in 2001.  It was later turned into a home for helping those in need.  Grandmother would have liked that.  On the backside of where the old home once stood are some stone steps.  I thought of my mother and a brother or two sitting on those steps.  My mother would tell me stories about her friends going down to the railroad tracks and waving at the trains.  The tracks were just a block from their house.  I then drove down to Main Street and took pictures of the courthouse, where my Grandfather worked.  He was always referred to as "The Judge", because he was.  There were still some old buildings downtown that looked like history had stood still.  I headed over to the cemetery and saw the graves of all of my Merrill relatives.  I also saw the memorial stone for my mother.  It was placed between her father and mother.

 I left Heflin and drove back to the motel.  While resting there, my cell phone rang.  It was one of my MTRA board members wanting me to get something done.  I explained to her that I was in Alabama and couldn't do anything until Tuesday.  She apologized.  I miss landlines.  

 Monday came, and I drove to the Heflin funeral home.  I met my brother and sister-in-law there.  Also, my Merrill cousins from Anniston were there, as well as some relatives I had never met.  We drove over to the cemetery.  There were some guys cutting the grass and making a lot of noise.  We asked them to stop for a few minutes, but they didn't want to.  They were getting paid to cut the grass.  We asked them to move to another part of the cemetery, and they did.  We had a short service on a cold and windy day.  It was good to see my cousins.  Mother would have liked it.

 We were then invited to go to lunch at my cousin Martha's house on a mountainside in Anniston.  Her house was huge.  I brought some Merrill artifacts to give to my cousins including The Judge's walking stick and a commemorative award from FDR to my Grandmother for her work selling war bonds during World War II.  We told stories about our Merrill family.  There was a lot of laughter.

 I was thinking about when to leave to drive home.  I had to go through Atlanta but wanted to avoid the rush hour traffic.  Since Alabama is one hour behind Georgia, I had to figure the time carefully.  I said my goodbyes and estimated that I would get to Atlanta around 3pm.  All was great, until I reached Atlanta.  A truck had run into a church bus.  All lanes on I-20 were blocked.  So much for planning.  I got home late, but it was a great time.  Mother would have liked it.

By-Laws

  The MTRA was getting organized.  We put together a membership brochure and were allowed to put them in the transit station, so that riders could pick them up.  There was a form that they could fill out and put them in a locked box at the station.  We also had a board in the transit station to post announcements.  Our goal was to keep the riders informed about changes, because the bus system was a little lax.  We heard from riders that they didn't know what the changes were.  We also asked the riders what changes they wanted, and if there were any complaints about service that we could address.  We got a post office box to facilitate letters sent to us from riders and concerned people.  We also got a bank account.

 We had invited those who had signed up to join the MTRA to a membership meeting to elect officers.  Even though we had gotten around 50 members at that time, only about 10 showed up.  I was elected the President, because no one else wanted to do it.  My friend, Keith, was elected Vice-President.  We also elected a Secretary and Treasurer.  

 Because we were becoming an actual organization, it became necessary to have by-laws.  All the money to run the MTRA was coming out of our own pockets and a few donations, so we could not afford an attorney to draw up the by-laws.  We heard about a program through the University of South Carolina's Law School that helped non-profits.  They only accepted three groups each year.  We were accepted to participate.  

 Keith and I went to the Law School and met the two students who would help us.  Both were second-year law students.  We spent a few months hashing out the by-laws and making them legal under South Carolina law.  It became rather tedious, but we wanted to have them done right.  The Dean of the Law School went over the by-laws to make sure they were accurate.  Our Board got copies of our work to make suggestions where needed.  At the end of working with the Law School, we had what we thought was a good framework for the MTRA.  There were a couple of people on our Board that raised concerns.  They were mad, because they felt left out of the process.  Keith and I explained to them that we had formed an Ad Hoc committee to get this done.  We invited one of the objectors to the Law School, and we met with the students that had helped us.  She appeared to be satisfied with it.  Our Board poured over the wording of each section, and we voted on it.  It was unanimous.  Then, we called a special general meeting of the members of the MTRA to approved the by-laws.  By now, we had about 100 people join.  We sent out invitations via email and snail mail.  The meeting was in the public library downtown on a Saturday afternoon.  About 15 showed up.  The by-laws were presented for a vote.  It passed.  Now, we had a roadmap on how to do things.  Thankfully, I was getting some mental health counseling during this time.  I couldn't have done it without that.

Presser

  I am very proud of my brother.  He has done some amazing things for our state and elsewhere.  Most of the things have been behind the scenes.  John does better, when he doesn't get the credit.  He has been a speechwriter for a Governor and a Senator.  He has run political campaigns.  He was the driving force to get Olympic teams from other countries come to Columbia and train before the 1996 Atlanta Games.  He carried the Olympic torch.  One of the only things he has done out front was when Governor Hodges asked him to be the Director of Parks, Recreation and Tourism for the State of South Carolina.  John was the PRT Director during the 9/11 attacks and had to build back the Tourism industry after that awful day.  He has a passion for sports, especially Golf and Baseball.  He just retired from being the President of the Restaurant and Lodging Association for SC and had to deal with the issues surrounding the pandemic.  John is a problem solver.  

 In our family, John asked us early on to support his work for him to succeed.  His candidates were our candidates.  His passions were our passions.  He was known all over the community for his successes in getting things done.  I had learned a lot from him over the years about working with others in a constructive manner.  You can get a lot more done working with people instead of being angry.  It had taken me a long time to get to that point.  Just ask those folks I went to college with.  Back then, I was vicious.  I didn't care whose toes I stepped on.  I got in trouble for some of it, but it was worth it.  As I matured, I found that wouldn't work in the "real world", so I toned it down while still being persuasive.

 My family name is known by many people.  Some knew my father as a man of faith.  Some knew my uncle in Charleston for being a doctor.  Some knew my uncle in Greenwood for being the founder of The Museum.  Some recognized the street name next to Lander University.  Some knew my brother from his work.  Some knew me from my acting and retail work.  The Durst name was known.  My father used to tell me:  "Don't forget who you are."  He was talking about my last name.  Early in 2013, I went to the SC Secretary of State's office to get an application for non-profit status for the MTRA.  When I walked in the door, the secretary asked my name.  I told her, and her mouth dropped open.  She said, "You're a Durst?!!"  I said that I was.  She told me that we were related.  It turned out that she was from Batesburg, where there are a lot of Dursts.  We aren't closely related, but I let her think so.  She rushed through my application, and the MTRA was approved on the spot.

 In the early days of the MTRA, I had a conversation with my brother about what I wanted to do to be an advocate for the bus riders.  At first, he had some misgivings about my participation.  He knew of my history of being a bulldog.  I could alienate people with my rhetoric.  I told him that we were going to have a press conference one afternoon behind the Transit Station.  We had invited local TV stations and print media to come.  Some showed up.  We got on the local news and reported the next day in the paper.  When my brother saw the coverage, he gave me his blessing and a word of advice.  "Stay positive".  By being positive about issues, rather than negative, people will listen.  I listened.

MTRA

  After the passage of the penny tax for transportation in Richland County, the Progressive Network thought it would be a good idea to form a grassroots group representing the bus riders in the Columbia metropolitan area.  We met to form what would be called the Midlands Transit Riders Association.  The core group consisted of one person gifted in public relations; one person who could represent the disabled community; one person who had experience in mobilizing people; and me.  I was named the interim president of the group.  I knew I needed someone who knew people on the city and county councils, so I asked a friend from the Andre Bauer campaign if he would be interested in joining our group.  He said yes.

 I attended a couple of board meetings of the bus service and found that they were more interested in getting money for the system than the riders.  I asked to speak at one of their meetings and introduced myself as the president of the MTRA.  I explained to them what we wanted to do, and they were interested.  One of the board members thought it would be a good idea to include us to give a report each month in their board meetings, and to give us a non-voting seat on the Service Standards Committee where operation proposals would be hashed out before taking them to the Board to be voted on.  One of the Board's members ran into my friend at a newspaper office.  My friend was black, as was this Board member.  He told my friend that he didn't like a "silver-spoon white boy" representing bus riders, since the majority of riders were black.  He also called my friend an "Uncle Tom" for working with me.  When my friend told me that, I had to go home and research what "silver-spoon white boy" meant.  I was horrified.  I made it clear to all of the Board members, without singling him out, that I was chosen to lead the MTRA because of my talents, and because I had lived in Columbia most of my life and knew the needs of the community.  

 The first order of business was to get Sunday bus service back.  It had been cut out before the passage of the penny tax to save money.  I went to the Executive Director of the bus service and told him that we wanted Sundays back.  He asked why?  I told him that I knew of some women who had lost their jobs at hotels in Columbia, because they couldn't get to work on Sundays.  I also said that I wanted to get back to church.  Thanks to the TV ministry, I could watch my church on Sundays.  However, there were many people who didn't have that luxury.  His response to me was that there is a church within walking distance of everybody in Columbia.  I suppose that is true, but it wasn't my church which was nine miles from where I lived.  I put together a coalition of church and business leaders to lobby the bus service for Sundays. We also went to a neighborhood gathering in North Columbia and asked people what they wanted the bus service to do.  The overwhelming majority of people said Sundays.   It worked.  We got Sundays back.

 One of the advantages we had with the MTRA was that the Executive Director and the Route Planner did not know about Columbia.  One had come from Knoxville and the other from Tallahassee, so they were not familiar with the area.  That helped out a great deal, as we began to formulate a list of wants.

Chance

  It was the Fall of 2012.  There was going to be an election that year for a lot of things, but one in particular interested me.  It was the vote on a penny increase on the sales tax in Richland County.  It had failed in 2010, and it was on the ballot again.  The penny would go to improve roads, public transit, and bikeways in Richland County.  I had heard that there was going to be a voter registration table at the Transit Station in downtown Columbia, and I felt that I needed to help.

 I got down there and found an old friend from my anti-war days.  It was Brett Bursey.  He was in charge of a group called the Progressive Network, and they wanted the penny tax to pass.  Brett had been very active in the anti-war movement during the Vietnam era.  He had a group of people going around the station to sign up people to vote.  We started talking about the old days, and he said that he wanted to start a group of activists to represent the bus riders in Columbia.  I told him that I was interested in that project.  He said that there was no one on the Central Midlands Transit Authority Board of Directors who rode the bus, and he felt that a grassroots group could affect the needs of the riders.  It sounded like a good idea.

 We worked that afternoon and got a lot of people registered to vote.  We explained the need for a penny increase for the good of all.  I had planned to just be down there for an hour.  I spent all afternoon talking to people and getting a sense of why they rode the bus.  Most didn't have a car, like me, and some only had one car in their family.  I remembered what I heard God say to me three years before, as I was in the midst of killing myself.  He said, "Stop!  I have more for you to do."  I now knew what He meant.  He and I were going to work to get the bus system in Columbia to a better level of service.  At that moment, I didn't know how we were going to do it.  But on the way home from the Transit Station, I talked to God and asked Him to show me what I could do.  I saw the need.  I had been seeing the need, while I was homeless.  I realized that He had been preparing me for this moment.  I could use my skill sets of public speaking; knowing people in the community who could help; and being able to speak the language of the politician.  I knew about cause and effect.  I knew what I had to do.

Mitt

  As I have said many times, I am a political junkie.  I just like politics.  It was instilled in me at an early age by my Mother, ever since she almost fainted meeting Barry Goldwater outside an elevator in the U. S. Capitol.  So, there was an opportunity to see Mitt Romney in 2012 as he visited Columbia.  

 He was running for President, and as most of you know that I have seen every President in my lifetime, except for Kennedy, so I like to hedge my bets just in case a candidate might win.  Governor Nikki Haley was hosting an event for Romney, and I signed up to go.  She was endorsing him for President.  The event place was pretty small.  There was enough room for the media's TV cameras and around 100 people jammed together.  As a side note, I saw Peter Alexander of NBC News there.  He was following the Romney campaign.  Little did any of us know that he would go on to bigger things at NBC.  

 A guy next to me in the crowd asked me what I did for a living.  I told him that I sold some stuff on the internet, but that was all.  His face brightened up.  He told me he was from Sumter and had a bunch of old TV tubes in their original boxes, and they were in the trunk of his car.  He wanted to sell them to me.  I wasn't interested.  For one thing, very few televisions still had tubes.  I also had no idea what they would be worth.  I suggested he take them to a local TV repair shop.  They would probably love to get them.  He was disappointed.

 Another side note about Nikki Haley:  I first met her in 2009, when she was running for Governor.  No one took her seriously.  She ended up winning the race.  I had done a lot of opposition research on her.  She was not one of my favorite people.  I made a lot of comments on social media attacking her.  Many people loved her (and still do).  From what I learned about her, it was easy to not like her.  I can't write here about her, but if she runs for President in 2024, some of that stuff might come out.  No threats.  When she endorsed Mitt Romney, it was obvious that she didn't really like some of his positions.  She was just ambitious for better things than Governor.  That would show up four years later.  On a funny note, I was walking to church early one morning and ran into her husband jogging down Sumter Street.  I greeted him warmly and asked him if his wife had let him out of the Governor's Mansion to jog.  He laughed and said yes.  I like Michael. 

 So, back to the Mitt Romney event.  I was standing between the stage and the TV cameras, smackdab center, about 10 feet from the stage.  Nikki was all smiles.  The crowd cheered, when Mitt took the stage.  Nikki's eyes scanned the crowd, and then her eyes locked.  Her smile went to a frown in a heartbeat.  She just stared at me.  I smiled at her.  And, then she looked away from me and smiled again.  We had a moment.  Mitt went on to lose the election to Obama.  I saw the President a few years later, but that's another story for another time.  I admire Mitt Romney.  I wish more in the Republican party would do so, too.  He is a good man.  He is a principled man.  I think he would have made a good President, if the party would have let him be himself.  

Options

  My brother invited me to go to lunch with him in February, 2012.  After eating, he said that he wanted to introduce me to a woman who knew a lot about finances and budgeting.  Since I was only getting $90/month from my Belk pension, things were very tight.  He took me to her office on Rosewood.  It was in a building called MIRCI, which stood for Mental Illness Recovery Center Inc.  We walked in, and I spoke to her about my situation.  She suggested I speak to someone else, as I was dealing with trying to find another place to live.  This person was the housing coordinator.  She explained that the majority of people in the program had some form of mental illness.  She suggested that I talk with the doctor on duty.

 I told the doctor about my severe depression and anxiety.  About the last time I tried to kill myself in 2009.  About the worry of losing my apartment.  He listened to me, and then asked me to wait outside of his office.  The housing coordinator talked with the doctor, and they felt that I was a candidate for MIRCI and housing.  This was definitely an answer to prayer.  She told me that there was an opening at one of their properties called Dena Bank off Broad River Road.  When I got back home, I got a call from the Columbia Housing Authority saying that there was an opening for an apartment at Carriage House off of Broad River Road.  I felt that I needed to check out these places before making a decision.

 I took the bus out to the nearest stop.  It was four blocks down a hill to Dena Bank.  As luck would have it, Carriage House was right across the street.  I walked into the Dena Bank parking lot and saw the apartment that they were offering me.  The blinds were open, so I looked in to see an empty apartment.  It looked nice.  A man walked up to me and asked if he could help me.  He introduced himself as Greg.  I told him that I was thinking about moving in, but I needed to get some details about the place.  We sat and talked for about 20 minutes.  Greg had been a semi-professional baseball player who suffered with seizures.  He told me that the apartments were nice, and most of the people were easy to get along with.  There were 16 one-bedroom apartments in the complex.  It was owned by MIRCI and subsidized by HUD.  I told him that I had been offered a place at Carriage House, too.  He told me not to take it, because there was a lot of crime over there.  Our place was safer.  It was also in a good location being near drug stores and a grocery store.  An antique mall was up the street.  And, a library was nearby.  Greg convinced me that Dena Bank was the best spot for me.

 I went back to USC Supportive Housing and told them of my decision about going with MIRCI.  It would take until May 1st before everything was done for me to move into my new apartment.  Columbia Housing moved my stuff from Fairfield Road over to my new digs.  I left a couple of things there, including a large round table and chairs.  During the move across town, they broke a lamp.  Oh well.  Everything else got there in one piece.  I was in a van driven by the Housing Authority head.  When we got to Dena Bank, there were two sheriff's deputies talking in their cars at the entrance to the parking lot.  The Housing lady asked me if I was sure I wanted to move here, and I said yes.  And, one thing that the MIRCI housing coordinator told me was that I could live here the rest of my life, if I wanted to.  Finally, I had a safe place that was mine.  No more worrying about being homeless again.  No more worrying about living in a storage unit.  At last...

Grant

  I was called into the office of the USC Supportive Housing in January 2012 and got some distressing news.  The grant that was paying for my housing at Villa Hermosa was expiring in April.  What did that mean?  I would be losing my apartment and would have to move out.  They assured me that I would not be going back out on the street.  They told me that they would find another place for me to stay through the Columbia Housing Authority.  It seemed the grant was for only two years.  That was strange, because I knew people in the program who had lived in their place longer than two years.  

 Being on the street gave me trust issues.  I couldn't trust many people.  After all, I trusted a guy that told me I could move into a house behind Whaley Street.  That offer fell through.  I trusted the hospital to provide a warm place for me.  They kicked me out.  And now, I had trusted that I had a place of my own, and it was going away.  I kept my post office box just in case I had nowhere to go.  Good call, Walter.

 I put in my application at the Columbia Housing Authority.  There was a long waiting list, although I was told that I would be put near the top of the list, since I was in a housing program.  That was some consolation.  I just couldn't tell anybody.  No sense for more jealousy like I got getting off of the street.  This was an emergency.  And, the "little white boy" wouldn't be around anymore.  I was told of some properties that were about to be open.  I did crime report checks and then would turn down the offers.  My neighborhood was no bed of roses, but the places offered were worse.  I seriously didn't want to live in a place where the police didn't like to visit.  I did start to box up my belongings, because I might get a safe place, or I would have to get another storage locker and move all my stuff back in there.  I had a homeless friend who lived in his storage locker.  I could see me doing that too.  

Mail

  When I moved into my apartment in 2010, our mail boxes were located inside the building's front door. Each apartment had their own box.  Each apartment had their own key.  My box's lock was broken.  I had asked the apartment manager to fix the lock, but they weren't good about doing it.  After all, the manager's office was across town on Fort Jackson Blvd., and they never came out to our place.  We had to mail our rent checks to that office.  Stuff just never got fixed.  That also explained the science experiment that they were growing in the swimming pool.  

 So, back to the mail box.  The carrier would put my mail in my box and shut the door, even though the lock was broken.  He understood that our management was slack.  One day, we got a new mail carrier.  He wouldn't put my mail in my box, because the lock was broken.  If I was there, I could catch him and get my mail.  However, if I wasn't there when the mail came, I wouldn't get any mail, because he refused to put it in the box.  My apartment was about 50 feet from the box.  He could have easily knocked on my door, but he didn't care.  One time when I was there, he gave me a tub of mail that he had in the back of his truck that had gathered over a week.  What about bills?  What about important correspondence?  He didn't care.  I asked him why he put mail in boxes that houses had on the street with no locks, and he told me that was different.  Fighting the post office was very stressful.  Not getting mail was very stressful.  Trying to be logical with them was even worse.  

 Our post office was a mile away, if one walked through neighborhoods.  After pulling out my hair over this situation, I decided to get a post office box at the branch rather than dealing with the bureaucracy.  I walked to the post office three times a week to get my mail.  It was good exercise, but it was also very frustrating.  Eventually, the apartment manager "got around" to fixing the lock on my box, and I could give up the post office box.  This ordeal lasted nine months.  Having to do two change of address forms during that time was even worse.  They say you can't fight city hall.  The post office is worse.  

Close

  My church has special events from time to time.  First Baptist Columbia is known for that.  There was one special event I couldn't miss.  It was a Sunday evening with Cliff Barrows and George Beverly Shea.  They were great friends of Billy Graham and was with him on his crusades around the world.  Cliff would direct the choirs, and Bev would do the solos.

 This evening, they were guests of our Minister of Music Steve Phillips.  They sat on the rostrum and told stories of their experiences with Dr. Graham and the crusades.  During the hour, they also sang hymns of faith.  It was the closest thing to Heaven that I had ever encountered.  I just sat in awe of the two of these humble men who had gotten so much fame over the years, but it didn't go to their heads.  They were of a generation, much like my father, who did God's work for Him, not for them.  Ego is a terrible thing in the ministry.  These men did not have that problem.  

 There is a difference between preachers and pastors.  Preachers are up there to preach, and that's all.  Pastors care about their flocks, also known as their church members.  There are some great preachers out there.  I have known many.  But, I have also known many who get self-absorbed by their adoring members who worship the preacher and not God.  These preachers forget why God called them into the ministry in the first place.  Pastors are generally humble people.  They don't care about the fame.  They have been called to do God's work, and they do it with caring and love for others.  When I met Billy Graham back in 1964, and you can search for that story in my blog, I thought of him as great.  I also saw he could laugh with my father about the incident the year before.  He was just an ordinary man and doing extraordinary things for God.  Cliff and Bev also fit into that category.  That night with the two of them was one of the highlights of my life.

 After it was over, I had to walk home.  I couldn't afford a taxi, and the buses weren't running.  I was hoping that I wouldn't run into anyone along the way home in the dark.  I got up to Earlewood Park, and a man asked me for a cigarette.  I just said no and kept walking.  That neighborhood at night can be dangerous, but I made it home without incident.  What a night!

Disability

  After consulting with USC Supportive Housing, it was decided that I should apply for Social Security Disability.  One reason was that I would have more money than I had.  I was getting $90/month in a Belk pension.  HUD would take a portion of that for my rent, which came out to $17/month.  If I got disability, I would have to pay more in rent, but I would also have more money for other things.  I also got Food Stamps.

 Due to my lack of stamina from the pneumonia and the health issues from sleeping on concrete, they thought I would be a good candidate for it.  The catch was to find a lawyer that would take my case.  I made an appointment to see a lawyer on Taylor Street.  She had looked at my claim and declared that I didn't have a case.  I wasn't disabled enough.  I went back to the USC office and told them.  It was a setback, but they told me about another lawyer who might do better.

 Her office was on Bull Street.  They took cases for free.  I had my medical records with me, and she told me that I had a case.  I am guessing the first lawyer just didn't want to be bothered with a pro bono case.  So, my new lawyer scheduled me to be evaluated by a doctor.  His office was on Devine Street.  His examination was a little strange.  I laid down on a table, and he asked me to raise my legs as high as I could.  I got about six inches off of the table.  He then took my legs and raised them further to almost a 90-degree angle.  In the process, he pulled my hamstring.  He then asked me to get up off of the table.  I got dizzy and almost fell down.  He wrote up his report and sent it to my lawyer.

 The next step was to get a stress test at the hospital.  I was given a sheet of instructions.  One of them said not to eat for 8 hours prior to the test.  My appointment was at 2pm, so I had no breakfast or lunch.  When I got to the hospital, I asked the front desk where the office was that I needed to go to.  They told me to follow the green line on the floor.  I did that and found myself in the parking lot.  Wrong way.  A nurse happened by, and I asked her where the office was.  She took me there.  It wasn't anywhere near the green line.  The examiners were nice.  After doing triage, they had me get on a treadmill and start walking.  A few minutes later, I was about to pass out.  They gave me some orange juice and cookies and asked why I was so dizzy.  I told them it was because the sheet said not to eat before coming.  They told me that was a mistake.  Mindreading is not one of my talents.  So, I left there and walked up to Burger King and chowed down.

 It came time for my hearing before a judge.  They told me that it was at the Strom Thurmond Building.  I went to the Federal Building but found that there was another building with the same name some six blocks away.  I got there in time for the hearing.  My lawyer told me that this judge was strict, but we had a good case.  We went into a small room.  There was enough space for the judge, a stenographer, two lawyers and me.  My lawyer told me to answer questions from the judge truthfully.  I did.  He asked me what kind of work did I do before becoming homeless.  I told him that I had done retail.  My lawyer said that I had lost stamina and could not do the work I had done in the past.  The judge then asked if I could sit on a stool behind a register, and I said yes, but that most stores were not set up that way.  He then suggested that I get a job at Walmart as a cashier sitting on a stool.  I told him that they didn't have those.  I guess he didn't like my attitude, because my claim was denied.  My lawyer apologized to me, and said there wasn't more she could do for me.  Case closed.

 So, I never got Social Security Disability.  Even though, I deserved to get it.  There was a guy I knew who got his on his first try, before going before a judge.  He went out and bought a moped.  It was stolen the next day.  

Gingerbread

  After doing the narration for the July 4th musical in Lancaster, I was thinking about going back to my first love, which was acting.  I got an email one day from one of my drama mentors--Catherine Eaker.  She and her husband Gene had been the head of the Drama Department at Columbia College for a lot of years.  My first real acting experience was to work with 16 high school students from around the city back in 1970-71 at Columbia College and being directed by Catherine.  The education that I learned in that semester was invaluable.  Then, I was asked by her to perform in the lead role of  "The Butterfly That Blushed" in 1981.  Again, I learned a lot from her.  She set me on the course to act in plays, films and TV.  I was also inspired by her to write plays and perform them.

 Catherine invited me to join her Gingerbread Theatre company to do one of her original plays at the Greek Festival in 2011.  I was flattered.  It was a three-person play.  The other two were Gene Eaker and a girl I didn't know.  The day before our first rehearsal, I threw my back out getting off of the couch.  I had back problems for many years, but things got worse from sleeping on concrete for six months.  The rehearsal was at the College Place Methodist Church on the other side of Columbia College.  I hobbled two blocks from my apartment over there.  I got the script, and we did a read-through.  I had a good time with them.

 I took the script back to my apartment and began trying to learn the lines.  I hadn't had trouble in the past learning lines, but this time was different.  I was working out blocking (movement) for the stage and voice inflections.  I was analyzing emotions and character development.  All the things one did to get a good performance.  There are many kinds of acting preparation.  Mine comes from figuring out who the character's traits are and reactions to events.  Some actors get so immersed in the process that they become that character away from the production.  That's called "Method Acting".  I am not a method actor.  I am an experience-based actor.  It is called "Sense Memory".  That's why some people are amazed about what I can remember.  It is based on my work as an actor.  I remember an emotion, and how I felt.  I then project that into my character to make it believable.  But, this time was different.

 I first noticed that my voice was weaker.  I had less stamina to stand on stage for very long.  My breathing was labored.  I was having trouble with the lines.  Things were not going well.  I realized that the 6 months worth of pneumonia that I had, when I was homeless, had taken its toll on my lungs.  The sleeping outside on concrete had caused my joints to hurt.  I began to cry.  I realized that I could no longer act in anything I had not written.  With my Bible-character monologues, I could put in pauses to help with my stamina.  To do something that someone else had written, I couldn't do a character in the professional way I had been trained.  In acting, I am a perfectionist.  I am a technician.  If I can't do it the best way I know how, then I am not going to do it.  I had to reluctantly call Catherine and tell her that my body was just not up to the rigors of a play.  

 I had been acting in plays since I was 11 years old.  I had been given accolades for my acting in 4 schools.  I had gotten awards for my work.  I had worked with some of the greats of stage and screen.  Now, all I had were my memories.  Someone once called me a "legend" in acting circles.  Maybe I was.  I was.

Bluff

  I had put all of my stuff in storage at a place off of Bluff Road in Columbia, while I was homeless.  When I got off of the street, it became necessary to get my stuff back and put it in my new apartment.  There was a bus stop within 50 feet of my door.  The bus would go into town, and then the bus route number would change to reflect going to Bluff Road, but I didn't need to change buses.  There was a stop right across the street from the storage place.  I had to cross four lanes of traffic, but it wasn't too bad.  After picking up some stuff, I could get back on the bus the next hour and go back to my apartment without having to change buses.  It worked out well.

 I took my backpack on my trips, which averaged 3 times a week.  I would pick up clothes, videotapes, records, books, and other things.  It actually took about eight months to get everything moved.  My best friend for 20 years agreed to help me with some of the bigger stuff like bookcases, and my bed frame.  He had been wanting my "A Hard Day's Night" framed movie poster, and I agreed to give it to him as payment to help me move my stuff.  The poster was worth some money, but I was willing to let it go.  If you would recall, my friend's name was Del.  He was 1/3 of The Cobbwebs band.  After he helped with two trips of the big stuff, I gave the poster to him.  He didn't help any more.  A couple of months after that, Del wrote on Facebook some criticism about his brother.  I contacted his brother to say I was sorry about what Del wrote.  His brother told Del that I had said something, and Del got mad at me.  He didn't want anything to do with me, despite our 20-year friendship.  He also got mad at Chris, who was also 1/3 of The Cobbwebs, because Chris took Del's brother's side.  The Cobbwebs basically ended as a band after that, at least in its current form.  I don't think Del realized that putting something out on social media means everyone can see it.  Anyway, Del won't speak to Chris or me.  No communication whatsoever.  I did see him at a Newt Gingrich rally at the State House a couple of years later.  I was shaking Newt's hand.  Del was about three feet from me.  I said hello.  He looked right through me.  In going through the South Carolina Treasurer's website of unclaimed money, I saw that Del had some money coming to him.  I emailed him to tell him about it but got no response from him.  I heard from someone that he would see the email was from me, so he wouldn't open it.  I eventually wrote a letter to his parents and asked them to tell Del about the money.  I have often wondered whatever happened to Del.  He was a good friend.  We had a lot in common.  I even tried apologizing to him for something I didn't do, but he wouldn't open the email or a letter I wrote to him.  He would enjoy seeing my collectibles now.  His loss.

 I finally was able to get the last of my stuff from storage with the help of my friend Weesie.  We threw a lot of stuff away like stereo equipment and big speakers.  I closed out my account with the storage facility, and I could finally call my apartment home.  Oh, I also heard later that Del sold the movie poster, because he needed the money.  It was worth about $2000.  I don't think Del got that.  All the best, Del.

Eyes

  I had worn glasses since the 4th grade.  It was obvious then, because I couldn't see the blackboard in class.  For those of you who don't know what a blackboard is, ask your mother or grandmother.  I wore thick glasses, because I was severely nearsighted and had an astigmatism.  As time wore on, I had to get bifocals.  That was hard to get used to, and I kept tripping on curbs and steps.  But, things got worse.  When I was walking and came to an intersection, I would see three cars instead of two, or two cars instead of one.  Sometimes, I would have to guess which one was real to cross the street.  When I was in church, I had to sit close to the front to be able to read the song lyrics on the big screens.  I was going blind.

 Because I didn't have any insurance, I needed to see an eye doctor who would take indigent patients.  I looked around town, but I couldn't find any.  I reached out to an old friend from church named Rick Milne.  He was an ophthalmologist in Columbia with a thriving practice.  I asked him who in Columbia did eye work on indigents?  He said for me to come see him.  I told him that I couldn't afford him.  After all, they had commercials on TV.  He said for me to come see him.  So, I made an appointment and went to see Rick.  He examined me and told me I had cataracts and needed surgery to remove them and put in new lenses.  How much would that cost?  He told me not to worry about it.  He would do it for free.  Tears flowed.  I was given some eye drops to prepare for the upcoming surgery.  I hated that.

 My brother took me to the surgical center.  The nurses prepared me.  They were going to do one eye, and then the other in two weeks.  I asked why not both eyes at the same time?  They said because I might have an infection and would need one working eye at a time.  Before the procedure began, Rick said a prayer over me to calm me down.  It was beautiful.  They gave me an anesthetic for my eye, but I was awake the entire time.  The surgery went well.  I was given a plastic patch to wear over my eye for a couple of nights, while I slept, to avoid me scratching my eyes.  I also got more eye drops. 

 I noticed something amazing about the brain.  When one eye is not good, and the other one is, the brain will recognize the good eye as to one to see through.  I could see great out of my new eye, even though the cataracts hadn't been removed from the other eye.  It was weird.  I went back for the second eye procedure.  It went well, since I knew what to expect.  Rick said that I could throw away my old glasses, but I would need reading glasses for up close stuff.  My brother took me to the dollar store afterwards, and I bought two pairs.  I also had to start wearing sunglasses when outside during the day.  There was a glare in my eyes.  Rick said he had put UV lenses in my eyes, but I still needed the sunglasses.  They make me look cool now.

 As a result of this surgery, I found out some amazing things.  Things that may sound trivial to some.  I could see leaves on trees.  I discovered that there were place names on TV weather maps.  And, I didn't have to sit up front at church.  I also found that I was reaching for nonexistent glasses on my bedside table, when I woke up in the morning.  That took time to get over it.  I found out later that Rick did mission work for those who could not afford eye surgery.  Otherwise, the cost would have been around $4000.  Rick passed away a few years later from cancer.  I may have been one of his last patients, but he was such a blessing to me.  I was blind, but now I see. 

 

Lancaster

  Tom Eggleston and I had been co-directors of the Drama Ministry at St. Andrews Baptist Church in Columbia back in the mid-2000's.  He went on to be the Minister of Music at First Baptist Church in Lancaster, SC.  We ran into each other one day, and he asked if I would come there and narrate their 4th of July presentation.  I could also do one of my Bible-character monologues on the Wednesday night before the 4th.  He said they would pay me to do it.  I said yes.

 I hadn't done anything in a while, but it is like riding a bike.  He took me up there on Wednesday afternoon, and I met with the pastor.  I was torn between two monologues.  The first was Hosea, which I was most known for.  I had done it the most, having written it in 1979.  It had gone through some changes over the years.  It was mostly about relationships and marriage.  The other was a monologue that was more improvisational in nature.  It was called "The Fishing Disciple".  I had a basic outline for it, but I would interject things in it that would appeal to the audience I was doing it for.  After talking with the pastor, it was decided that I would do the fisherman.  I asked Tom what was the predominant sports team that Lancaster would cheer for, and he said the Gamecocks.  They had just won the College World Series, so it was easy to weave that into the piece.  When I came on stage, the first words out of my mouth were:  "How 'bout them Cocks?"!  The audience cheered, and I knew I had them in the palm of my hand.  That is a feeling that every actor wants.  It is better than crickets.

 The monologue was well received.  Tom had given me a copy of the musical program for Sunday with the narration.  I went over it several times at home and worked a little with the choir.  Tom had introduced me to them as an actor who had worked with Burt Lancaster and Halle Berry, among others.  One elderly man pulled me aside and asked if I had ever worked with Jimmy Cagney.  I politely told him no, while wondering how old did he think I was.  

 As I was preparing for the program, I realized that I had a hard time seeing the narration that I was to read.  I had bifocals, but they weren't helping.  My suspicion was cataracts, but I couldn't let Tom know.  I was afraid they wouldn't pay me, so I went ahead the best I could.  One thing you learn as an actor is how to build your emotion to a point and then come back down.  There was a place at the end of the program, where I had to say "This is My America!"  I had built up to that point a little too soon in the narration.  By the time I got to that line, I was screaming.  It wasn't what I wanted to do, but I couldn't avoid it.  The audience never knew.  They thought I was supposed to do that.  It worked.  Afterwards, the Drama Professor at USC-Lancaster came up and told me that I was a good actor.  I would have preferred "great", but I took it as a compliment.

 A word about First Baptist Lancaster.  My great grandfather was the pastor there in the late 1800's.  My grandmother was born there.  I saw his picture on the wall in the History Room and read some of his sermons.  Some people said there was a resemblance between me and him.  I guess.  There is an old family story that didn't paint him in the best light.  He had a black woman, who took care of my grandmother as a baby.  One day, she was putting the baby on a wagon and accidentally dropped her on the ground.  The pastor whipped the woman for dropping his daughter.  It was a different time.

Support

  There were some homeless people who had tried USC Supportive Housing, but had dropped out of the program.  They didn't like jumping through their hoops.  When one is homeless, there is a sense of freedom.  There is very little community responsibility.  You just have to find out where to eat and where to sleep.  The rest of the day is spent filling up the time by walking around or going to the library.  You have to develop a sense of discipline to be in that program.  And, there needs to be a level of trust on both sides.  They need to trust you that you will follow their rules.  You need to trust them that they will keep you housed.

 I had to go to meetings at their office once or twice a week.  They gave constructive counseling on living a life off of the street and getting back into society.  I went through a 12-step AA program there.  Even though I hadn't had any alcohol in 11 years, I knew it was easy to relapse.  They also had an NA meeting.  I hadn't had any illegal drugs since 1981, but I have an addictive personality.  I have tried to stay strong, but it only would take one time for me to go back into those depths again.  I was assigned a case manager who visited my apartment once a month, and I would see her in the office once a month.  So, we would visit every two weeks.  She also would inspect my apartment to make sure I was following the rules.  The main rule was not to let anyone live with you.  I had homeless friends who wanted to do that.  It was hard to say no.

 Once a month, I would visit with their licensed therapist.  We would talk about stuff.  Sometimes, I would laugh or cry during those sessions.  She helped me with the transition.  We also had group therapy with others in the program.  I got to meet some great people who had gone through what I had.  We helped each other.  One man in particular was a guy named Mickey.  He had a 4th grade education and could barely read.  He had a great spirit about him and loved life.  Another guy named Duck had been on the street for a long time.  They helped me in figuring out how to become real again.  Mickey went onto get his GED.  

 I grew to love the folks who worked for USC Supportive Housing.  So much so that I encouraged others in my circle of homeless friends to get into the program, too.  One did.  His name was Marcus.  I'll write more about him later.  God sent these helpers to me as His angels.  Yes, angels do exist.

Villa

  It came time for me to move off of the street and into an apartment.  The one chosen for me was on Fairfield Road near the split with North Main Street.  It was called Villa Hermosa.  It had a common locked door that opened up to a courtyard.  The apartments faced the courtyard on both sides, and it had two floors.  It also had a pool, but the management must have been doing biological experiments in it, because it didn't look good.  It also had a couple of washers and dryers on each floor.  Each apartment had its own key to their door.

 When I walked in, I was amazed how big it was.  There was a living room area with a kitchen.  The next room was the bedroom.  There was a walk-in closet, and a bathroom with a tub.  The Supportive Housing folks had furnished it.  I had a love seat couch; a Sony 19" TV (without a remote); a large table with 4 chairs; a mattress set; a wooden chair that broke; a vacuum cleaner; plastic hangers and a dresser.  They also gave me a blanket and comforter.  My bed frame was in storage, so I had a temporary one until I could get mine.  One thing that I was told that I may feel like I want to live out of my bag, rather than putting my clothes away.  They were right.  I didn't have much trust about things after being on the street.  Once I realized that this was my place, I put my clothes away.  It took a couple of months.

 The apartment was near everything.  A bus stop was right in front of our door.  There was a Food Lion a block away.  The library was four blocks away.  CVS was three blocks away.  Columbia College was a couple of blocks away.  And, the post office was about a mile away.  Even though I wasn't a student, I had spent several years judging drama and speech tournaments there, so I was able to go to their library and read.  Until I got my own wi-fi, I was able to use theirs or the one at the public library.  

 One day, a friend came to visit.  He knocked on the locked outside door, and someone let him in.  He asked a woman if she knew which apartment was mine.  Her response was, "Oh, you mean the little white boy".  From then on, I was known around the complex as "the little white boy".  It was a term of endearment.

 

Grand

  There was a waiting period, while my new apartment was being readied.  A friend from church volunteered to pay for two weeks at the Grand Motel on Two Notch Road.  I actually went to school with the owner of the motel.  The Grand was not a four-star motel.  Maybe a two-star.  But, it had a bed, a bath, and a TV.  It also had wi-fi, so all was right with the world. 

 The trick to staying at the Grand was to keep to yourself and not talk to strangers.  There was stuff going on it the neighborhood that I had become used to living on the street like drug deals and prostitutes.  I could also eat in the room, so I would hike up the street to Food Lion to get groceries.  It was the same store where I shopped, when I was working before moving to Greenville, so I felt at home.

 There was a very questionable motel across the street from Food Lion.  One day, I saw an old man pull up to that motel, and a woman got in the car.  I watched as they drove off and parked around the corner.  A few minutes later, she got out of the car and he drove off.  That was the neighborhood.

 There was a McDonalds nearby and a KFC.  The bus stop was right outside the motel.  When I would take the bus to town, it went by another questionable motel.  The other guys on the bus pointed out a short girl with white hair walking on the sidewalk.  They told me her name was "Snowball".  She mostly worked nights at that other motel.  

 My new apartment was going to be near Columbia College.  I couldn't wait to move in.

Rescue

  It was a chilly day in late March.  I was in the library, where I was most days.  There were two reasons why.  To check my emails and to be in a warm place.  The library was the place to be for most homeless people.  Some patrons and staff didn't like the idea of the homeless being there all day.  After all, they were dirty and smelly.  At least, that was the impression they had of the homeless.  Most of us were clean and just wanted to hang out in a public library.  We were public too.

 On this particular day, I was checking my email, and there was one from some guy asking me to come see him.  I didn't know who he was, but the place was near the public bus station downtown, and I figured that I could spend an hour in his office and keep warm.  I also needed the exercise to walk from the library over there.  

 The office was called the University of South Carolina Supportive Housing.  It was a division of the School of Medicine.  I thought he was going to offer a job to me, as I had a lot of resumes out there.  I walked in and told the receptionist who I was.  She said they would be right with me.  I was then ushered upstairs to a tiny office.  A man was in there with a desk, a computer, and two chairs.  He had me to sit down and introduced himself as Tom Bolton.  He then looked at me and said these words:  "A lot of people care about you."  I had no idea what he meant at first.  Being homeless meant that very few people cared whether you lived or died.  That was what society was like.  For this stranger telling me that a lot of people cared about me was about as exciting as winning the lottery.  

 As he explained, there were four groups of people who had lobbied Tom's office to get me off of the street.  It also turned out that these four groups all worked independently of each other for the same goal.  Two were from my church, and the other two were leaders in the community.  He wouldn't tell me names, but I found out later who three of the people were.  Tom told me that they could set me up in an apartment in Columbia.  I would pay a percentage of my income to them, and HUD would subsidize the rest.  He also told me that I would be assigned a case manager and be required to come to some counseling sessions once or twice a week.  Those sessions included becoming reacclimated to living by myself in society and not being homeless any more.  

 This was an answer to prayer.  I had prayed every night to God to deliver me from the hell of homelessness.  He did.  I also learned that the answer was on His time and not mine.  Tom also hooked me up with food stamps.  I had been too proud to get food stamps before.  They were for losers.  I figured out that I couldn't eat without assistance.  I was happy to get them.  I signed some papers, and he told me that an apartment would be available to me by the first of May.  I left his office with a big smile on my face.  

 For the next several days, I just smiled and sang praise songs.  Some of my homeless friends were happy for me.  Others were jealous, because they had been on the street longer than me.  They thought I had gotten favoritism because of who I knew.  God knew me, and that was all that mattered.  Hallelujah!  What a Savior!

Kelly

  While I was working on Andre's campaign, a mutual friend asked me if I would consider also working on a woman's bid to be the State Superintendent of Education.  Her name was Kelly Payne, and she was a school teacher in the Dutch Fork area near Columbia.  I went out to meet with her and strategize how we could try to get her to win.  I was impressed with her and said I would help.

 The launching of her campaign was at Edventure in Columbia.  We had a good event planned, except we didn't plan on pouring rain outside.  We had to move everything inside, and I got the attendees names and addresses, when they entered the building.  It was a good crowd with a lot of enthusiasm.  She was very charismatic.  

 I did two out of town events with her.  The first was in Hartsville.  It was on a Saturday, and we had it in a park near downtown.  I rode with the guy who introduced me to her.  We went by Darlington, and I saw the famous speedway.  It was a lot smaller than I had pictured it to be.  We rode around Hartsville, and I saw Coker College.  I think my father took some teaching classes there.  When we go to the park, my friend locked his keys in the car.  He called AAA, but it took them a while to get there.  The nearest AAA office was 50 miles away.  We set up our stuff in the park.  There was a makeshift stage already there, and other candidates spoke as well.  All of the volunteers for the candidates outnumbered the attendees, but it was a good event.  The AAA man came, and we were able to leave.

 The other event was in Conway.  It was much bigger, and had a lot more candidates there from around the state.  Some were running for Congress and other races.  We set up signs outside of the old Tobacco barn in downtown Conway.  It was hot.  The barn was hot.  One had to go outside near a river to cool off.  There was a good crowd that came.  Kelly made her speech, and she did a good job.  The problem she had was name recognition.  She was well known in the Columbia area, but not as much around the state.  She didn't win, but she was most appreciative for our work.  She was a class act.  You don't find that a lot in politics.  She would have made a good superintendent.