Hobo Times

'The Drift'

...suddenly it was as if I stepped into a clearing where my spirit was set free. Home, the root that grounds the soul, had come unplugged from "place".  There I lay on the cold rusty steel bed of a piggy-back freight,  wrapped in what was left of my frayed sleeping bag..... feeling cozy, at peace and complete.  Not a soul in the universe knew where I was, yet I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather be with than me.  I had found home... on the road.... in what I would come to call, "The Drift".  And from that moment forward, I would pack myself up every morning and head for the nearest rail yard to catch-out any damn place I pleased...moving, always moving, but toward, no longer away from, life.

In 'The Drift', my life exists within a moment in a stream of moments.  If I was happy where I was, I saw no reason to rush off.  There were no plans and no destinations.  I couldn't get lost because I wasn't going anywhere in particular...and I was never late to nowhere.  Folks who liked me or didn't like me did so for who I was in that moment.  I had nothing to live up to or live down...there was no resting on my laurels but no baggage to carry either.  Guilt, the heaviest load of all... had evaporated.

America became my big back yard.  I traversed the country; catching freight trains like most New Yorkers catch taxi-cabs.  There wasn't a city in the nation that didn't see me as a local.  And yet, I was a visitor everywhere I traveled...peering, as a guest of the dark, at the faint blue light of late night TVs, reflecting through the windows of passing prairie farm houses and big city tenements. 

I owned the horizon, the sunsets, the sunrises, and the trees but I never paid a dimes worth of taxes. I contributed zero to the gross national product, but everything I owned to the gross national spirit.

Am I a Hobo?

I panhandled a dollar the other day to catch the bus to labor ready to get day labor, and I ate at the soup kitchen on my lunch break.  And I worked real hard stripping copper wire to junk for some cash, but since I stole the wire from a construction site, it was a hustle. I've been making bracelets too to earn some money, chain mail designs out of steel wire. They look really neat.  I took some of the money I earned and bought food stamps 50 cents on the dollar, welfare fraud. I'm going back to Minneapolis to do that UPS gig where they hire you to work there for a week at a time for 9 bucks an hour and I'm gonna apply to work the sugar beet harvest in the fall.  I'll probably hit up a few food banks while I'm there too and eat the free meals.  Good dumpsters in that town too.  I'll be sure to hit them up. I might even get drunk one of these nights and pass out in a ditch.

So what am I? A hobo a tramp or a bum?

Oh, and did I fail to mention, I haven't bathed in ... hmmm.  Can't remember how long it was, but I seem to remember having done so at Bruce's when I was last in Mpls.  You know, I'll gladly Accept the tramp or bum label to escape from the ridiculous high and mighty righteousness of this whole "I'm a true hobo" bullshit.  I do work hard, but I don't always get paid for it.  Sometimes I don't do nothin’
and get somethin’ for nothing.  The thing is, I've got nothing against hard work…

…and it makes me sad, when I hear Steamtrain talk about the days when you drink the water right out of the streams

…I'm just a little bear, riding my little trains all over the place, doing what I do and not giving a shit about whether you like it or not.  And when it comes down to it, that's really what its all about, right?

The National Hobo Association definition

THE HOBO HEART & SOUL

The keyword in describing the hobo is 'independence'. Unlike tramps or bums, the hoboes are usually very resourceful, self reliant and appreciative people. They display the quiet pride that comes from self confidence and the secure knowledge that they control their own destiny. As a group, they avoid long term work commitments, preferring to be free to follow the call of the open road when it comes. They are, in general, well read, artistic romantic and quick witted. They survive in hostile conditions that others would shun. They are creative, good natured and glib. They are NOT homeless. If they want a home, they'll get one when it suits them…

Some have hoboed in their past, some are currently on the 'Hobo Road'. Some have never hoboed but share the same core beliefs and views; in short, they have a 'hobo heart'. We warmly welcome them to share our stew and fellowship.

Get Britt Legit!

This piece was written in 1999 near the end of the Hobo Council’s battle with the Britt Chamber of Commerce over keeping the Hobo Convention authentic. The Chamber wanted to let citizens dressed up like Hoboes to run for Hobo King. The Hobo Council demanded that only authentic Hoboes who had been screened by the council to run. What was at stake was the ‘soul’ of the Hobo Convention!

Ultimately the Hobo Council prevailed. But much work was needed to repair the Hoboes relationship with the town of Britt.

This article was a first step toward respecting and working together to build a more authentic Hobo Convention and a stronger Britt Hobo Days celebration.

"Step back for a moment and take a look at what the National Hobo Convention is all about.

First you start with a collection of strong-minded, self-reliant personalities who represent every imaginable opposing faction in traditional society

Then you pack them together on a patch of Earth no larger than a city block for five intense days with the expectation that they will get along with each other as one big happy family.

Now, make it a celebration of personal freedom from the toils and responsibilities of the 'work-a-day' world; and do it in a small, hard working, conservative town in Iowa.

And expect a hero's welcome from the town along with food, shelter, bathrooms, firewood, showers, etc.

Awesome, huh? Yet it's been going on for 99 years!  There's more:

Mix in a healthy fear of 'Big City' crime coming to town with a small group of local/bum troublemakers and the usual calls for the cancellation of the event.

Then have the Mayor stand-up in front of the City Council and the public and choke back tears as he described his lifelong friendship with a hobo and his commitment to continue the event.

And now we're all talking about going for another 100 years! 

That's LOVE…from the Hoboes and the Town! And with all the activities the Hobo Council and the Town are planning for this year’s convention, I'd say it is a whole lotta love!

But there's trouble too!  And this year we need to re-invent the Hobo Convention in a way that stops all the 'politics', the drunkenness, disrespect, conflict, etc. and focus on creating more of what we love.

It doesn't have to be that hard! “

Source: brothers & sisters newsletter, Written and published by Adman Waters, spokesman for the Hobo Council, January 1999

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