“The thing is, it's really hard to be roommates with people if your suitcases are much better than theirs - if yours are really good ones and theirs aren't. You think if they're intelligent and all, the other person, and have a good sense of humor, that they don't give a damn whose suitcases are better, but they do. They really do. It's one of the reasons why I roomed with a stupid bastard like Stradlater. At least his suitcases were as good as mine.”

Holden Caulfield, Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

Today I heard someone speak this quote from the character Holden Caulfield in Catcher In The Rye and it really struck me. I'm not sure I could have expressed this as an adolescent but I know just what the character means.

Notice this statement is from the viewpoint of the more affluent Caulfield. “You think...that they don't give a damn whose suitcases are better, but they do. They really do.” So who is the one who is really bothered by the difference? Caulfield is uncomfortable enough that he would rather room with a “stupid bastard.” He is not immune to the differences between them and acts accordingly.

The last time I became homeless, people who spoke with me the week before suddenly stopped speaking with me. This may have happened before but I had not noticed. All I knew is, I had not asked anyone for anything but they still steered clear. Once I struggled to my feet again a few of those people reflected to me how admirable it was that I was able to work my way back to normalcy again.

I think it would be asking a lot of me to forget who those people are. I have not. I never bring it up but it is there. It is even there with people I did not know at the time. It taught me what is in the heart of many. If people see a weakness, in this case poverty, people will shun you as Caulfield shunned his roommate. I've learned that about people. I knew it before but could not express it effectively and besides, who would I express it to?

I often feel strong knowing the things I've survived but then I feel weak because I am forever the pariah. I don't have a safety net. I can't “network.” Networking involves schmoozing , connecting and being connected with others in the hope that something will come back to you. Don't get me wrong – I'm not a wallflower. I enjoy meeting people so I can connect them with other people. The only one that is missing from the equation is me.

Sometimes I am angry I am not like other people but that same thing that is not like other people is appealing for some and liberating for me. I don't have to kiss ass because I am not going to get anything in return regardless of my behavior. Knowing that, it is freeing to be who I am. I know how to play the game but I won't because people are the same in the end, whether you ask anything of them or not. They worry about themselves, their image, what spoils they will collect.

Like Caulfield's roommate, people can see my suitcase. It may be sturdier and show fewer nicks but it's the same suitcase. I can't leave behind the suitcase because that luggage remembers who I am. Funny how it never works in reverse. No one gripes of good baggage gone bad except the tabloids. Even the tabloids admire a good suitcase that has gone around the world, been beaten up but returns well, to the right destination.

People expect bad baggage to return where it came from or not at all. And if it was bad to begin with, who will miss it?

Attentive people on Twitter have heard me speak of Timmy. He is fifty years old and child like but never unintelligent. He is the one who always laughs, "I have clowns in my belly!." I'm pretty sure he does..

Last year Timmy asked me to make him a scarf and I did. I really like Timmy's no nonsense way of asking for things. I never doubt where I stand with him. I could have told him "no" and he would have been fine with that, too. When I presented the scarf to Timmy he was thrilled. He loved the color and texture and the personalized name tag saying it was made especially for him. He wore it proudly as we parted. I never saw it again. I asked him about it on one particularly cold day. Timmy's head drooped and he said he lost it.

That was last year. This year Timmy asked if I'd make him another scarf. I laughed at him and told him I'd buy him a scarf if he needed one. But Timmy really wants one of my scarves so he admitted he gave the previous one to a homeless person. He told me the whole story. It was typical Timmy. It was freezing cold. He had a place to go but the homeless man did not so it made sense to give him the scarf so he could be a little warmer. Timmy knows I've been homeless and have a sensitivity for people in that situation but I also know there are people you can help and people who don't want practical help. I've no idea which type this homeless man was but he could have been just as warm with a five dollar scarf as he was with the one it took me days to crochet. I told Timmy I would be happy to give him a store of scarves for that situation but he is right, the man was cold RIGHT THEN and needed warmth.

Tonight he came up to me and reminded me about the scarf. I told him I am halfway through with his and I will give him that and another half dozen if I never have to hear about the scarf again. He smiled with that smile that told me that was not what he came to talk about.

Timmy told me he was walking on a frigid night such as tonight but it was twenty years ago, when he made six figures and he was a software engineer. He was in a hurry. A homeless man asked him for a dollar. He gave him five dollars. The homeless man was overwhelmed by his generosity and gave him a garbage bag.  Timmy was surprised to get anything in return for his five dollars so he gave the man another hundred. Timmy told me how he has carried that garbage bag with him from home to home and never forgotten about that night.

Timmy says he keeps the garbage bag near his bed with his cross and rosary. When his friends are going through bad times he prays for them at this alter he has made and every time his prayers have been answered. Timmy has a lot of faith in that garbage bag he has carried for twenty years. It is his treasure. After he told me the story he explained he never wears jewelry, not even a watch. He was firm on this fact. Then he pulled out from his shirt a cross and rope braided from a garbage bag. "I just felt I had to wear it tonight and tell this story," said Timmy. I confirmed with him the garbage bag is still in the same condition as when he received it.  Timmy nodded and told me. "This is my one hundred and five dollar cross."

(Picture: Timmy's garbage bag.)