Oliver

  The next day, I woke up with a new found hope that I would find a job.  My brother told me about a part-time position he had heard about at the Oliver Gospel Mission, which was a Christian-based homeless shelter.  I really wasn't interested in part-time work, but something was better than nothing.  He took me down there to interview for the job.

 When I walked in, I saw somebody behind the glass sitting at a desk.  I told him that I was here for the part-time job.  He told me to come into the room behind the glass and sit.  He told me that the job was for a guy to sit behind the glass during the day and welcome anyone coming in the door.  That sounded pretty easy.  He then asked me to tell him about myself.  I went into the education and work history.  I had my resume with me.  He then asked about my Christian life.  I told him about seminary and the events of the night before.  He then said that it sounded like I didn't need the job.  He said I needed to stay at the Mission.  What?  Me stay at a homeless shelter?  He said that they had a program called "Hand Up", which helped men stay there for free while looking for jobs.  He then took me on a tour of the facility.  I saw a room with around 14 bunk bed sets that had lockers.  There was a bathroom with a couple of sinks and toilets.  There was also a shower.  He showed me where I would be sleeping.  It was a top bunk in the middle of the room.  He told me to come back later in the day to sign some papers, if I was interested in staying there.

 I didn't know what to do.  I didn't have a job.  No money.  I really didn't have a place to live.  I couldn't live with my brother forever.  I walked around downtown praying to God.  I found myself in front of the First Baptist Church.  I had sworn 20 years ago that I would never set foot in that church again, after my experience with my mother's stroke.  And apart from going to a funeral for a friend, I had kept my promise.  The funeral was for a girl named Gayle Anderson, who I had grown up with in church and school.  She had encouraged me in 8th grade to rise above the bullies and do creative stuff like acting and writing.  Gayle had died from lung cancer and never smoked a day in her life.

 It was around noon.  I felt like I needed to get spiritual guidance, so I went inside the church to the office to see a minister.  As I opened the door, I got an overwhelming feeling that I had come home. When I walked in, I told the secretary I needed to see a minister.  She told me that all of the ministers were at lunch.  I needed to talk to somebody.  She said there was a guy on the maintenance staff who was studying to be a minister.  I thought that was better than nothing.  He came into the office, and I was ushered into a room with a desk and two chairs.  For the next hour, he listened to me bawl like a baby.  I just cried and mumbled stuff about having lost it all.  I told him through the tears what had happened the night before in my state of depression; with my almost killing myself; and with hearing God's voice telling me to stop.  He had more things for me to do.  I told him about singing "I Surrender All" over and over.  I was exhausted from crying.  I knew I had to let go all of the mess inside my mind.  He just listened.  When the hour was up, he said that God had brought us together.  He told me that he had been homeless and was getting back on his feet by going to school and having the job at the church.  I knew immediately that God was controlling me.  If I had not gone into the church that morning at that time, then what?  If I had gone into the church at another time, I would have spoken to a minister who may not have understood what was going on in my life.  But, He knew me, and He knew this man.  I knew what I had to do.

 I went back to Oliver that afternoon after the man took me out to eat.  I told the guy behind the glass that I would sign the papers.  The agreement for the program was that I would attempt to find work at least twice a week.  He gave a paper to me that I could use to log my job search.  In return, I could stay at Oliver for up to six months.  I wouldn't have to pay for the bed or for food.  That sounded pretty good to me.  I called my brother and told him of my decision.  He picked me up and took me back to his house to pack.  I had a duffle bag of clothes and toiletries.  He took me back to Oliver and dropped me off.  I went inside and put my stuff up in a locker and got ready for supper.

 The line for supper snaked through a small hallway into a dining room.  There were around 50-75 homeless men in the room.  The food was pretty good.  After supper, they had us go outside and wait to come back into the dining room.  By now, they had moved the tables away and left the chairs.  It was chapel time.  Some of the guys sang old timey gospel music.  Then, there was a man at the front who did a 30-minute sermon.  Some guys slept through it.  I listened.  When that was over, we all stood in a line to take a breathalyzer test.  If you failed, you couldn't stay the night.  I passed.  We were given a sheet, a washcloth, and a towel and headed on upstairs to our bunk room.  The guys wanted to know about me.  They gave me the nickname of "Pops", because I was the oldest one in the room of 28 men.  I was 55.  

 One of the rules at the mission was that you had to shower at night before going to sleep.  To get to the shower, you had to go down a short and narrow hallway.  It was barely big enough for two people to fit.  Some of the guys there had formerly been in jail.  Apparently, there was a rule in jail not to touch someone else while walking by them.  It would be a sign of some sexual overtones.  I didn't know that rule.  I brushed against a guy who went off at me.  He pushed me back and told me he was going to kill me.  He was yelling and cursing at me.  Some guys grabbed hold of him.  He was screaming that he was going to kill me.  I screamed back, "Go ahead, I've got nothing to lose."  I started at him.  He was trying to break free of the guys holding him.  Some other guys grabbed me and pulled me back.  Each group told the both of us to calm down.  And then, it was explained to me what I had done, and I apologized.  Sleep was pretty tough that night.

 The next morning, I saw that guy sitting near the Art Museum.  I went over to him and apologized again.  He apologized to me for going off on me.  We got to talking, and I found out he was from NYC.  We became friends.  It is better to make friends than enemies, especially in such tight quarters.

Surrender

  The next day, my brother took me to the AAA garage.  We were to meet with a junk dealer.  He gave me $35 for my car and hauled it away.  I had a lot of great memories in that car.  A lot of places we went together.  Now, it was gone.  

 My brother then took me out to Harbison to look for a job.  He left me to walk that road from one end to the other.  I went into just about every store looking for work.  No one was hiring due to the recession.  It would have been nice to have a sidewalk to be on, but the entire way was grass.  (It still is)  I went from Best Buy to Kohl's with no success.  The employees at Ashley Furniture laughed at me, when I went into their store.  No one was hiring.

 As I left there, I saw a city bus turning left onto St. Andrews Road.  I yelled out to the driver to see if she could pick me up.  She pointed to a stop across the street, and I ran through traffic to get there.  It was the first time I had been on a city bus in years.  After a couple of transfers, I got downtown and caught another bus back to my brother's house.  During my journey, I ran into a "friend".  She told me that if my parents were alive, this situation of mine would kill them.  She also told me that they were turning over in their graves over my situation.  This comment put me into a deep round of depression.

 After supper that night, I went upstairs to the guest bedroom in my brother's house.  I tore a sheet and fashioned a noose around my neck.  I squeezed the sheet tight around my neck.  I had nothing left to live for.  I didn't have a car.  I couldn't find a job.  I had no money.  My parents were turning over in their graves.  Tighter and tighter, I made the sheet.  I had heard that one loses consciousness before dying when suffocating.  I knew that from my close call in the freezer at White Oak.  It is the body's way of making you comfortable.  I was about to pass out, when I heard an audible voice.  The voice said, "Stop!  I have more for you to do."  There was no one in the room but me.  I knew that voice.  I had heard it before.  When I was called to the seminary.  When I was doing something that I shouldn't do.  When I needed comfort.  I knew that voice.

 Then, a song came into my mind.  I knew the song from growing up in the church.  We sung it during invitations at the end of services.  The song was "I Surrender All".  I heard those words in my head:  "All to Jesus I surrender, All to Him I freely give; I will ever love and trust Him, In his presence daily live.  I surrender all, I surrender all;  All to thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all.  All to Jesus I surrender, Make me, Savior, wholly thine; Let me feel thy Holy Spirit, Truly know that thou are mine.  I surrender all, I surrender all, All to thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all.  All to Jesus I surrender, Lord, I give myself to thee; Fill me with thy love and power, Let thy blessing fall on me.  I surrender all, I surrender all, All to thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all."

 I began to sing that song in hushed tones.  I could barely whisper from the effects of the sheet.  I began to cry uncontrollably.  I kept singing that song through my tears, over and over, until I fell asleep.  I didn't know what God wanted me to do, but I had a spiritual awakening.  Events like seeing a vision of Heaven at Camp Greenville.  Meeting those kids at Kilbourne Park.  Having that vision of a family at Anderson College.  Writing Bible-character monologues and puppet shows for kids.  God had something for me to do.  One thing that I know for a fact is that God speaks to people all the time.  You just have to listen.

Motel

  I was just about done moving my stuff to the storage unit in Columbia.  I rented a van from Enterprise to get the rest of the stuff, including my bed frame, some speakers, and other things.  I wanted to be able to put some clothes and essentials in my car for the last trip.  The day I got the van, there was snow on the ground.  

 After getting back with the van, it was time to say goodbye to Greenville.  It was sad for me, because I loved it so much, but it was time to go.  My car wasn't running too well.  The gears were slipping, but I had to just suck it up and leave.  I didn't have a place to live in Columbia, but I heard about a motel with free wi-fi on Forest Drive that had weekly rates and was cheap.  The Marlboro Inn

 I got a room and unpacked my car.  It was cheap.  A bed, TV and microwave was the order of the day.  I found out early on that the free wi-fi was turned on for an hour in the afternoon, when the manager's daughter needed it to do her homework.  I was close enough to the public library to use their wi-fi for other times.  I sat in my car behind Forest Lake Shopping Center to do that.  I stayed at the Marlboro Inn for two weeks, until I heard about the In-Town Suites on Broad River Road.

 It cost about the same as the Marlboro, but they had round the clock wi-fi.  They had a bed, TV, and kitchenette, so I was moving up in the world.  My room faced the back end of the Boozer Shopping Center, so I woke up to the sound of garbage trucks collecting the trash from their dumpsters.  The walls were paper thin.  One night, I heard a man beat up a woman.  I think she died, because the police came and questioned me on what I had heard.  I knew it was time to leave there after a week.

 I then moved across town to the Masters Inn on Knox Abbott Drive in Cayce.  I ended up staying there for about six months.  The weekly rate was slightly more, but I was within walking distance of the grocery store and Wendy's.  What more could you ask for?  Their rooms were nicer than the previous two, and they had washing machines on the premises.  The only drawback was that it was next door to the Brookland Cayce High School field, which is where their band practiced early in the morning.  Instead of garbage trucks, I woke up to the sound of drums and trumpets. It was there that I saw that Farrah Fawcett had died, and then Michael Jackson.  That was a very sad day.  By now, my car was leaking oil.  A friend suggested that I take it to her mechanic.  They told me that there was a hole in the engine block, and it would cost $3200 to fix.  I didn't have that kind of money.  I had used up most of the $5000 I got from my friend to pay for motels.  The mechanic told me that I would have to put in a quart of oil every time I drove my car.  I went to an auto supply store and bought a case of oil.

 The first of September 2009, I ran out of money for the motel.  I checked out of the motel; loaded up my stuff in my car; put a quart of oil in the engine; and drove over to Columbia Mall to look for a job.  Some friends had offered to pay for another week at the In-Town Suites for me.  Nobody was hiring.  I decided to head over to the In-Town Suites from there on I-20.  It wasn't too far, plus the oil light didn't come on, so I thought I could make it over there.  I got down to the Main St. exit, when my car started to smoke.  I pulled off of the exit.  I heard a boom.  The engine had blown up.  Smoke was everywhere.  I got the car to a safe spot off the side of the road up the exit ramp and called AAA.  They came and towed my car to their office on Forest Drive.  The initial diagnosis there was that my car was dead, and it would cost more to fix it than it was worth.  I called my brother, and he came and got me to take me to his house.  Being materialistic such as I was, I had felt I had lost it all.  

Relocation

  I had been staying in Greenville basically for free.  I had to pay for my food and stuff, but the rent was free.  My roommate and I were staying in his condo which was paid for.  One day, he informed me that he was having to relocate to Clemson with his job as a property manager, and I was going to have to move out.  This came as quite a shock to me.  I loved Greenville, but I couldn't afford to stay there.  The utilities were about $150/month.  That was $150 more than I had in the bank.  

 I didn't want to leave Greenville.  I tried selling some of my albums to a record store.  I gathered up several that were worth a lot, including a Ron Wood autographed album with his original artwork included.  I got around $60 for it.  Way less than it was worth, but I was desperate.  In all, they gave me $100 for these albums.  I contacted a friend who managed a storage unit in Columbia.  She said she would give me a special rate of $20/month to store my stuff.  So, I started to move my records, tapes, cd's, videos, clothes, and some furniture down there by my car.  I tried to make runs once or twice a week to get them down there.  Some of the big pieces of furniture, like bookcases, dresser, chest of drawers, and kitchen table w/chairs, I had to leave there.  They were eventually moved to my roommate's mother's house in Easley.

 Without money, I sunk into depression.  I would be driving down the highway and think what if I just drove into an overpass?  My brain began to get blurry.  One Saturday, I drove to Simpsonville to see my friend Mary.  I told her that I just couldn't go on.  She sat me down and got out a pad and pencil.  She told me to write down why I should live in one column, and then why I should die in a second column.  Through my tears, I began to write.  The live column was longer than the die column.  She told me that I was realizing that there was more to live for.  But, I still didn't have enough money to move, and I didn't have money to stay.

 I reached out to my college roommate, who lived outside of Greenville.  He had a 2-bedroom trailer, and he said I could live there, if his parents agreed.  They were paying for the trailer.  We drove to their home in Spartanburg.  I had met them years before, but it was like meeting them again for the first time.  His father asked me if I had a job, and I said no.  So, he gave me an ultimatum that I would find a job within a month's time so as to help pay for the rent.  This was during the recession, and jobs were scarce.  But, I agreed to his terms.  We went back to the trailer, and he showed me around.  It was okay, but there was an unusual smell about it.  He had an inside cat.  The litter box was in the one bathroom, and there wasn't much air circulation.  I gagged in the bathroom.  His one rule was that the cat couldn't go outside.  

 The next day, we went shopping to get some curtains for my bedroom.  When we got back to the trailer, he told me that his refrigerator needed cleaning, and that I should do it to test my skills in cleaning.  From the look of the inside of the refrigerator, it appeared that he hadn't cleaned it at all.  There was gunk and grime everywhere.  He gave me a knife and some ammonia to have at it.  I scraped and cleaned as much as I could without passing out.  When I finished, he declared it good and said it was time for supper.  We were having hot dogs.  He used the same knife from the cleaning to spread ketchup on the buns.  Even though he had rinsed it off, I got grossed out.  I knew I couldn't stay there.

 The next morning, I woke up early.  I moved out.  While I was opening the door, the cat got outside (oops).  I think the cat was trying to escape, too.  I drove to downtown Greenville and parked, so that I could get a wi-fi signal.  I emailed a friend from high school about my situation.  He had a good head on his shoulders, and I valued his advice.  His mother had just died, and I also wanted to express my sympathy.  I drove back to the old condo and decided to just crash there for a couple of days and figure out what I was going to do.

 A couple of days later, a letter came in the mail from my friend in Columbia.  In it was a check for $5000.  I couldn't believe it.  Tears rolled down my face once again.  I could now afford to move back to Columbia, where I felt I had a better chance in finding a job.  When I thanked my friend for the money, he said not to worry about it.  He said that God told him to do it.  I never said goodbye to my former college roommate, and I don't think he ever forgave me.  I'm sorry, Gary.  I hope you found your cat.

The Ring

  As I wrote previously, when I moved to Greenville, I cashed in my 401k to live on that money.  I didn't have a job, so this was my only real income except for selling some of my stuff online.  Around November, I started to run out of money.  I talked to a friend to tell her that I was thinking about selling my Mother's wedding ring for cash.  I had gotten it after she died in 2004.  A few days later, I got an email from a friend of hers urging me not to sell the ring and that I would regret doing it.

 That friend of hers was Lt. Governor Andre Bauer.  I knew that she knew him, because she had talked about their friendship over the years, but I had no idea that she would tell him about my dilemma.  He told me that there were ways to get money despite the recession, and that I shouldn't resort to selling the ring. She had also told me what a caring man Andre was, and that most people didn't see that side of him.  There were rumors about him, but my friend told me that those rumors weren't true.  I believed her after reading the email.

 A couple of weeks later, I saw that Andre was going to speak at a church in Simpsonville.  Also on the program was Attorney General Henry McMaster.  I went to that event and sat close to the front row.  The church was packed.  Andre spoke about his near death experience in a plane crash, and about how he had grown closer to God.  I don't remember what Henry spoke about.  After the meeting, I introduced myself to Henry.  He knew me through my brother.  He was cordial, but a lot of people wanted to speak to him.  Andre was standing next to a wall in the sanctuary.  I went over to him to say hello.  He reached out his hand to me as any politician would.  I leaned into his ear and said that I was the one who was thinking about selling my Mother's wedding ring.  He brightened up and called me by name, as if we were old friends.  He asked me if I had sold it, and I said no.  He told me not to.  He said the next time I was in Columbia to come by his office.

 Soon after that meeting, I found myself in Columbia and called to see if he was at the State House.  He was, because the Senate was in session.  He presided over the Senate.  I went into his office, and we chatted for a few minutes.  I told him that I had saved his life twice.  He was shocked to hear that and asked how.  When he was in the legislature, he was running for another term.  His goal was to walk across Newberry County, which was in his district.  Once, I was driving from Laurens to Columbia, after visiting my Mother.  I was coming over a two-lane bridge, and he was walking on the other side of the bridge.  I had to swerve to miss him.  The second time, I was riding down US1 in the country coming back from Augusta.  There was a blind curve, and I was driving pretty fast.  Round the curve, he was walking on the road.  I had to swerve to miss him.  Both times, I was glad no cars were coming in the opposite lane.  Both times, I could have hit him.  He thanked me for not doing that.

 He asked me if I would like to be recognized as his guest in the Senate chamber.  I was honored.  He told me to give a short bio to his chief of staff.  I told him that I was a nationally published writer and actor.  I thought that sounded better than retail.  His chief of staff told me to take the Senate elevator to the gallery.  He said that there would probably be some Senators in the elevator, so I was not to repeat anything they said.  I will take their comments to my grave.  When it came time for my recognition, Andre stood at his podium and told the Senators that he wanted to recognize me as a special friend.  He had one of the Senators from Greenville to read my bio.  The Senator was impressed with it and said on the floor that he looked forward to reading some of my writings.  The other Senators clapped.  I felt pretty special that day.  

 As a footnote, it was a running joke with Andre and me after that about asking if I had sold my Mother's ring.  We would have a laugh over that.  I never did.  If anyone sees Andre, you can tell him that I donated the ring to my church years later, because I felt that is what my Mother would have wanted to allow them to sell it and use that money for missions.  It was only right.

Baby

  I loved going to the Greenville Zoo.  It wasn't as big as Riverbanks in Columbia, but I got to get in free, because I was a member of Riverbanks.  (Not a resident, just a member)  

 The Greenville Zoo had animals such as giraffes, elephants, monkeys, ducks, alligators, snakes and much more.  I was there one day when a group of young school kids went on a tour.  I was sitting outside the snake house.  The kids were laughing on the way in and screaming on the way out.  The snakes were behind glass, but it was fun to see their reactions.  I also loved going down to see the ducks.  They sort of shared a pond with the alligator.  I never saw an incident thankfully.

 One of the animals they have are orangutans.  They are pretty intelligent beings.  I was there one day after the female had given birth.  As I approached the fence, the female saw me.  She had her baby in her arms.  She walked down to me and reached out her arms to show me her baby.  It was a very sweet moment.  Mama was very proud of her baby, as opposed to the Daddy.  He was further back in the enclosure playing with a paper bag.  When I saw Mama show me her baby, I felt I had to react.  I smiled and touched my chest near my heart.  She smiled.  I nodded my head in appreciation.  After a few minutes of admiration, she turned and walked away with her baby.  I waved goodbye and headed on back to other parts of the zoo.  It was a very moving experience.  She was so proud of her baby, and she wanted to share it with me.  It was one of those "ah" moments.

Pain

  I know something about my body.  If I eat something, and it doesn't agree with me, it usually starts to tell me after four hours.  I went to Arby's for a late lunch one day and had a roast beef sandwich.  I didn't see or taste anything unusual in the meat, but I did four hours later.  I had food poisoning.  Both ends of the spectrum were telling me this.  I knew what food poisoning was, since I had a severe bout of it, when I was in seminary.  If you haven't had it, I pray you never will.  My roommate took me to the hospital because of my condition.  I told the doctor what had happened, and where I had eaten.  He called Arby's to report the incident and was sending two health officers over there to seize the meat.  If it had happened to me, then surely it had happened to others who had eaten there.  Arby's said they knew nothing about it (of course).  When the officers got there, they were told they had thrown the meat away.  No evidence.  They did put Arby's on notice.

 A couple of months later, I experienced the worse pain of my life.  Worse than the doctor doing an operation on me, when I was a kid, without anesthetic.  My roommate took me back to the hospital.  They did a battery of tests and found I had kidney stones.  I am told that the pain is the equivalent of women undergoing childbirth.  If that is the case, then I feel for them.  It was horrible.  I was sent home with some pain meds and told to drink lots and lots of water to flush the stones out.  I was also told to cut down on caffeine, because apparently it helped the stones to develop.  No more soda drinks or sweet tea for a while.  Just water.  After a couple of days, the stones passed.  Little bits of what looked life sand.  It was amazing to me how something so small could cause so much pain.  That's where the analogy of childbirth differs.  Thankfully, the stones weren't as big as babies.