I can’t believe there are people like you out there recording what is happening as if it is poetry, and it is, but also heartbreaking. Yes. I know the person with 5 houses who moves between them. And then there are so many “writers” I observe doing a sometimes convincing job of pretending they are writing. But you can always tell who is really putting all the pieces together to make it sing.
This piece is heartbreaking, heart-opening and beautiful, Holly. I am reminded of a line from "Buckaroo Bar," an Emily Scott Robinson song, "But they tore down the rentals and clear cut the trees/ To build their 10,000 square foot second homes/ Aw, but who's gonna serve them their champagne and snow..." I love my little house and can't image losing it. But it's possible, and at age 69, I'm no longer sure I could survive unhoused. I also can't imagine owning multiple houses that sit empty when so many people need shelter. You remind me to be grateful for what I have and to continue to spread light and love in this world as best I can. Hugs to you as you roll on.
I like this line, "Rain beats on the roof above my bed like I owe it rent." The rain can sound so demanding when you live in a metal box.
I'm lucky, I've never had those kind of hard choices. But I know that we could all be in situations where there are no good options at anytime without notice.
I always though house sitting was an interesting way of housing people. It's like, can I use your house while you aren't using it. Why not? Win, win, when there are pets involved. But then I read comments from Homeowners who disparage people who are living out of their car. There is no trust for people living in less than ideal situations.
The distrust of people with less is such a heartbreaking phenomenon. It has to be fear based—fear of that very reality you mentioned (that any of us could find ourselves suddenly with nothing but hard choices, fear of not being worthy of all the having.
And right? Rain on a metal roof not far from your head can be unbelievably loud!
I have never been in a position of circumstances changing my housing. Being here on Substack has been one of the things that has opened my eyes to what it is really like for some people - to see the humanity and lack of choice in places I may not have truly looked. I am ashamed to say that I did not see it very often because my life took a different trajectory. Sharing these stories, the way you do, is such important work Holly. Thank you.
When I was in my late twenties, a series of very poor decisions and some bad luck left me homeless and broke. My sister and her husband took me in, which was the undeserved mercy I needed in that moment. Since then, I’ve had sympathy for those without homes, understanding that sometimes we land there despite our best intentions. Add the loss of a car and the mountain becomes so much steeper. Now I’m comfortably retired and still grateful.
Beautiful, Holly. My feeling response was softened by your gorgeous imagery to really take in the woman and her children. Thank you for bearing witness. 💙
Some circumstances are kinder than others to be sure. That last line is like someone shoving a fork into a reader's heart. As always Holly...just outstanding work.
To map a course—is to find your way by observing. But to witness as you drive across America, is to find yourself through each experience. To share so eloquently—is to give the gift of allowing us to come along for the ride.
Thanks for the road trip I never thought I’d take.
"Rain sluices the windows as I cook dinner. Rain spits at the walls as I curl on the couch with a book, heater blasting. Rain beats on the roof above my bed like I owe it rent." Reading this lovely description just as the first heavy rain for months falls on Tokyo. Beautiful.
I can’t believe there are people like you out there recording what is happening as if it is poetry, and it is, but also heartbreaking. Yes. I know the person with 5 houses who moves between them. And then there are so many “writers” I observe doing a sometimes convincing job of pretending they are writing. But you can always tell who is really putting all the pieces together to make it sing.
Awwww. Thank you, Kara. That’s life often, isn’t—heartbreaking poetry.
I’m grateful for you being here and commenting.
Imagining the vistas, along with you--and seeing them in your words and photos!
Thank you for sharing, Kara!!
This piece is heartbreaking, heart-opening and beautiful, Holly. I am reminded of a line from "Buckaroo Bar," an Emily Scott Robinson song, "But they tore down the rentals and clear cut the trees/ To build their 10,000 square foot second homes/ Aw, but who's gonna serve them their champagne and snow..." I love my little house and can't image losing it. But it's possible, and at age 69, I'm no longer sure I could survive unhoused. I also can't imagine owning multiple houses that sit empty when so many people need shelter. You remind me to be grateful for what I have and to continue to spread light and love in this world as best I can. Hugs to you as you roll on.
Thank you, Susan. Who will serve their champagne is a great line.
I know that we all who have abundance could share it in a better way. But it’s hard to imagine multiple empty houses indeed.
May you always have your beloved little house. 💕
I like this line, "Rain beats on the roof above my bed like I owe it rent." The rain can sound so demanding when you live in a metal box.
I'm lucky, I've never had those kind of hard choices. But I know that we could all be in situations where there are no good options at anytime without notice.
I always though house sitting was an interesting way of housing people. It's like, can I use your house while you aren't using it. Why not? Win, win, when there are pets involved. But then I read comments from Homeowners who disparage people who are living out of their car. There is no trust for people living in less than ideal situations.
The distrust of people with less is such a heartbreaking phenomenon. It has to be fear based—fear of that very reality you mentioned (that any of us could find ourselves suddenly with nothing but hard choices, fear of not being worthy of all the having.
And right? Rain on a metal roof not far from your head can be unbelievably loud!
Beautiful and heart-breaking -- and then imagining someone with 10 houses just sitting around while ... thank you for what you see
Thank you, Jan. I so very much appreciate you being here!
Someone has to answer the questions. It might as well be me.
Has circumstance ever forced you to live in a way you might not otherwise have chosen?
Yes, a couple of weeks in a very budget motel, several months in a nasty rental.
Do you use the name you were given at birth or you gave yourself?
I do. Although I've been called a few others.
When have you felt stuck between two not so great options?
Often. Usually stay or leave.
Thanks for the answers! I’ve seen my fair share of budget motels and had one particularly nasty rental space.
And dang, do I get the stay or leave dilemma!!
So so poignant.
Thank you, Stephanie. 🥰
I have never been in a position of circumstances changing my housing. Being here on Substack has been one of the things that has opened my eyes to what it is really like for some people - to see the humanity and lack of choice in places I may not have truly looked. I am ashamed to say that I did not see it very often because my life took a different trajectory. Sharing these stories, the way you do, is such important work Holly. Thank you.
When I was in my late twenties, a series of very poor decisions and some bad luck left me homeless and broke. My sister and her husband took me in, which was the undeserved mercy I needed in that moment. Since then, I’ve had sympathy for those without homes, understanding that sometimes we land there despite our best intentions. Add the loss of a car and the mountain becomes so much steeper. Now I’m comfortably retired and still grateful.
Beautiful, Holly. My feeling response was softened by your gorgeous imagery to really take in the woman and her children. Thank you for bearing witness. 💙
This is heart-rending and so beautifully written, Holly.
Deeply and quietly powerful.
It reminded me of something that happened to somebody I used to know - a previously unimaginable reversal of circumstances.
Sometimes what appears to be security, can be deceptively fragile.
In answer to your questions:
Yes - but luckily only temporarily. Latter - shorter and easier to pronounce.
More than once, but chose what seemed to be the best and luckily was able to move on from there.
That was lucky.
Some circumstances are kinder than others to be sure. That last line is like someone shoving a fork into a reader's heart. As always Holly...just outstanding work.
It’s important, what you’re doing. I hope that family keeps dry.
To map a course—is to find your way by observing. But to witness as you drive across America, is to find yourself through each experience. To share so eloquently—is to give the gift of allowing us to come along for the ride.
Thanks for the road trip I never thought I’d take.
"Rain sluices the windows as I cook dinner. Rain spits at the walls as I curl on the couch with a book, heater blasting. Rain beats on the roof above my bed like I owe it rent." Reading this lovely description just as the first heavy rain for months falls on Tokyo. Beautiful.