Keep an Eye on the Customers

Dialogue:

Saw:  I’ll do this, but, uh… I got a lotta customers, you know, so, um… I gotta keep an eye on that.

Me:  Yes, no, of course, that’s completely understandable.  This’ll be really quick.

Saw:  Ok, yeah… that’s all right.

Me:  Where did you grow up?

Saw:  Um, Nashville, Tennessee.

Me:  Oh?  Nashville?

Saw:  Yeah.

Me: What was your home life like as a kid?

Saw:  Uh… very, uh… I was a spoiled person.  Spoiled, yeah, spoiled.

Me:  What did you want to be when you grew up when you were a kid?

Saw:  Football player.

Me:  Football player?

Saw:  Yeah.

Me:  That’s cool.  Were you on any sports teams?

Saw:  Uh, yes, I played for Bellevue, when I was growin’ up, I played, uh, uh… Junior Pro League when I was growin’ up.

Me:  What was that second one?

Saw:  Junior Pro.  Junior Pro League.  And, uh… I guess that’s about all.

Me:  So, um, I guess what brought you to Nashville is just that you’ve always lived here?

Saw:  Always lived here.

Me:  What is a typical day like for you?

Saw:  Um… I’d say normal.

Me:  Yeah.  What do you do from morning to night?  Just a real quick run through.

Saw:  Tryin’ to basically work, yeah work.

Me:  Yeah?

Saw:  Uh-huh.  Uh, I’m goin’ to go over to that lady.

Saw:  You know, I said I had to keep an eye on my customers.

Me:  Yeah, I know, it’s no problem.  Thanks for doing this.

Me:  Do you have somewhere to live right now?

Saw:  Uh, no, I’m… I’m homeless.  Sometimes I stay at the mission.

Me:  Do you have a job, other than selling The Contributor?

Saw:  No, no… I don’t.

Me:  So… if you don’t mind me asking, why do you think that is?  Like, what caused it?

Saw:  No, I don’t mind, um… I mean, I grew up payin’ bills since I was, like, fifteen, so…

Me:  So you think that’s what caused it?  Having to start paying bills so young?

Saw:  Yeah.

Me:  How did you get involved in The Contributor?

Saw:  They just offered me a job, ya know.

Me:  Oh, ok… um… do you like working for The Contributor?  You don’t have to worry, I’m not, like, reporting to anyone or anything.  It’s just a question, part of the interview

Saw:  Uh, yes… I mean, yeah, it’s a job.  And I need a job.  But they’re all right.

Me:  Cool.

Saw:  Yeah, I mean, it’s better than goin’ out and getting in trouble, ya know, and hurting people.  Would you rather me be doing that?

Me:  Oh, no, of course not, no… I was just asking, you know, ‘cause it seems like a tough job, standing out here all day, so I was just wondering.

Saw:  Yeah, it is, but it’s a job, and every job’s got its problems, you know?

Me:  Yeah… oh don’t I…

Saw:  Yeah.

Me:  So tell me more about The Contributor.  Is there anything more you’d like to tell me?  Like, just, anything about The Contributor?

Saw:  Nah, not… not really.  It just really gives me something to do, ya know, rather than… like, when I was thirty, I was doin’ drugs and alcohol, and I'm forty-two now, so, ya know, it’s better than doin’ that.  I’ve had some bad luck.

Me:  Oh? Yeah? Well… I’m sorry about that, um… and that probably doesn’t help anything, the whole situation, does it?  Um… would you mind elaborating on that a little bit?  I’m not trying to pry, I just—

Saw:  Uh, you know, I got a lot of customers right now, so I’m going to have to let you go, all right?

Me:  Oh, ok, well, um, thank you for your time!

Saw:  Yeah, it’s no problem.  I just, uh, I gotta get back to my customers.  See ya.

Analysis:

The first thing I drew from this was said before the interview technically even started, and I jotted it down very quickly once he said it:  the idea of customers.  Maybe it's my narrow-mindedness, or maybe I'm a demeaning person, but I had never thought of the cars driving past vendors of The Contributor as being customers.  In my mind, vendors were still homeless people, who needed money or some kind of a job, and this was the most honest way they could go about that.  But I'd never really thought of it as a business before, or that the vendors would think of all the cars driving past them on a daily basis as customers.  But honestly, if I were doing that job, I would need some way to cope with standing there as nearly every car drove past, the people inside not even looking at me, and I guess the best way to do that would be to think of it as any other job, especially like those in retail, and not take it personally but just think that they didn't want to buy my product, and that's fine.  Almost like I was selling it at a shopping mall or something.  It would be far less demeaning and discouraging to think of it that way instead of, "Well, they just don't want to buy my paper.  Something's wrong with how I'm selling it, " or allow the cynic inside me to say, "No one cares that I'm homeless, foodless, jobless (in a way).  This world is a terrible place full of selfish people who only want for themselves and don't think of the needs of others." Now that'll put a smile on any working face.

I also found it interesting that he thought that he was a spoiled kid.  I'm not going to lie, I was definitely expecting him to say that he had some awful, dramatic home life.  But I guess it kind of fits that he was overly spoiled and thought too much of himself, so when his parents couldn't pay his way anymore or bad luck came his way (which he said it did), then he wouldn't be as able to take care of himself.  However, he did mention that he started paying bills when he was fifteen, so maybe my perception of a spoiled kid is different than his.  Maybe based on where he grew up, he was a spoiled kid, but to me, if he's paying his own bills, he can't possibly be spoiled, because his parents aren't paying for everything for him.  I would've loved to delve into that more, but of course, he didn't seem like he was interested in talking about it, or much of anything at all, and I didn't want to ruin the contact I'd made.

But he's trying to do better for himself, which is a commonality that I hear among vendors of The Contributor and from people begging for money on the street:  they all want to do better for themselves, get a "real" job, be able to afford a place to live-- any place-- and provide for themselves.  They typically see pretty accurately what it is that led them to where they are now, and it's usually bad luck, some kind of failure in a dream profession where success is based on luck and networking, and/or drugs or alcohol.  And I'm encouraged by that, because it makes me believe that maybe I can do better for myself too, despite what's held me back, torn me down, or ripped me apart.  That no matter what, I can hope, dream, and maybe even try to help myself, and someone will be there to help me along.  Isn't that what living in a community is all about anyway?

The Wisdom of Maya Angelou

I was raised in a small town full of white farmers, where the biggest club in high school was Future Farmers of America (FFA).  Therefore, there are a lot of writers and historically famous people that I have never heard of, but most students spent a lot of time learning about.  Maya Angelou is one of those.  After hearing students gush over her and get excited about her arrival on campus, I was convinced that this woman must be amazing to cause all this commotion.  And she was.  Dr. Angelou made you feel like you were sitting in her living room, listening to her tell stories from her life, sing songs of hope, talk brightly of the future, and encourage you about the life path you had chosen.  She was purely inspirational, and gave everyone in the room not only a sense of awe and encouragement, but also a profound self worth.  Despite her many struggles in life, she has developed into a virtuous woman full of grace and beauty who takes joy in helping those around her.  By the end of her talk, I felt that I knew her, that perhaps she was even my grandmother and confidante.  I was extremely impressed by her, and hope that I get the opportunity to hear her speak again some day.

Easley Escapades #1 & 2

3:51 PM

As soon as I entered Edgehill I noticed the game room on the left, filled with a single ping pong table and a few games.  In the open area just beyond it there were two empty tables with metal chairs surrounding them, and then through the next door there were three more tables surrounded by more metal chairs and an office desk with what seemed to be the only comfortable chair in the building.  One woman, whom I later had some wonderful conversation with, inquired why I was there.  As soon as I mentioned that I was with Belmont, she replied, "Oh, yes, baby!  You need to sign in?  I got it right here for ya."  I love the South.  I waited for several minutes, sitting in one of the chairs in the open area, for the children to arrive.  When they finally did arrive they came like a storm, running and yelling, trying to get to their most desired room as quickly as possible.  I got up from my chair and walked into the homework room-- the one with the desk-- and settled down at a table with a couple of little girls.  I asked their names, grades, and ages, then explained who I was and that I was there to help them with their homework.  They seemed a little unsure of me at first, but after the first little girl asked me a homework question and I helped her figure out the answer, they both started to relax.

4:06 PM

With all the kids done with their homework, the woman who had provided me with the sign-in sheet began asking all of the children, especially the ones that hadn't even come near the room, if they were sure they didn't have any homework.  They all replied, "No," and with that she explained to me that normally their homework wouldn't get done so quickly, but some days there just wasn't much to do.

4:15 PM

About half of the kids and I lined up to go outside to play on the jungle gym, walk the track, and just enjoy the beautiful afternoon.  Many of them looked at me, probably wondering who the older outsider was, but once they saw the other children play with me they loosened up and started tugging on my arm to carry them on my back, play tag, and watch them climb the monkey bars.  After just half an hour of playing with them I was exhausted, and they started to play with each other more, so I sat down next to the same woman I had been spending the majority of my time with there and got to know her a little bit.  We talked about school, jobs, childhood development, life decisions, and just about anything else that came to our minds.  There was a small argument amongst the children, but she quickly solved it by merely asking them, "What are the rules here?" until they responded with the correct answer, which they all knew but were avoiding providing because they knew they had disobeyed it-- you could see it all over their faces.

5:00 PM

It was time for me to leave, so I got up to go inside and sign out, when the two little girls I had tutored ran over and asked if I was leaving.  Once I said that I was, they asked when I was going to come again. I told them probably not until November, but I had classmates that were coming to help them every day. Extremely disappointed, they replied with a solemn, "Oh," and returned to their playmates.  I called out to all the kids that I would see them in a few weeks, and they all waved and screamed goodbye at me as loud as they could, even the two little girls.  It was an excellent two hours spent.

Artifacts of a Broken Culture Renewed

A guitar is an important artifact for the homeless culture of Nashville, Tennessee because many of the homeless here are failed musicians who travelled to the “city of music” to become famous in the music industry.  Other homeless people are troubadours, merely passing through town on their way to another city or searching for a way back home.  Therefore, the guitar is a symbol of the struggles of the homeless population, their attempt at triumph, and their ultimate joy and suffering.

The Contributor is a respected newspaper in the homeless population of Nashville, Tennessee.  The vendors sell it on street corners; each person has an official nametag, bag to hold the newspapers in, and money pouch to collect their earnings in.  You may be surprised to find that all of the vendors are either homeless or formerly homeless people; they are all working to bring themselves out of poverty by having a job—selling The Contributor.  This makes The Contributor a valuable artifact of the homeless culture of Nashville to study so that their strivings are understood.  It is also important to note that The Contributor is a newspaper written entirely about the homeless culture in Nashville, making it all the more important to the homeless and thus those studying the homeless.

Practically Practicing

There were a series of things that I noticed in the hallway linking the practice rooms in the basement of Massey Performing Arts Center:  everyone had a water bottle, a surprisingly low number of students actually had their instrument with them, and no one seemed to want to make eye contact with anyone else.  There are a few conclusions about music students that I have drawn by linking these seemingly separated qualities most seem to possess.

1)  They all have water bottles, because they cannot get dehydrated.  Not from getting a fierce workout, no; rather, from excessive use of the lips and tongue for extended periods of time.  Sole use of the mouth can cause the musician to be unable to practice up to their full potential if they do not keep a sufficient amount of water on hand at all times-- there's no telling when an impromptu jam or singing session may happen on Belmont's campus, and they must be prepared.

2)  The students generally do not have instruments with them because they are predominantly singers and pianists; or, they store their instruments somewhere on the premises.  Through observing the music demographic on Belmont's campus, I have determined that there are a wide variety of instruments played by the music students, some of which are not commonly known; therefore, they must have some means of storing their instruments on the premises, since they cannot be nearly all singers and pianists.

3)  The lack of desire (or ability) to make eye contact could be for only one reason:  paranoia.  This paranoia stems from a number of stressful situations the student lives in, including but not limited to, having their livelihood (instrument) stored separate from where they spend the majority of their time, competition among students, and extensive rehearsals with no credit obtained for the time spent.

In short, through this study I have concluded that music students must suffer from dry mouth due to the constant stress and paranoia caused by being a music student, especially concerning the storage of their most prized possession, their instrument, and excessive rehearsals (occasionally without warning) in which large amounts of water are required.  By learning these facts of this culture that dominates the Belmont campus, one can understand the reasons why Belmont students are an extreme variation compared to the average college student, and the acceptable way in which to behave when entering this musical culture.

Music Notes

 

I was surprised that not very many students passing through had instruments in their arms; I suppose that many of them were vocalists, or had some way to store their instruments in the building.  I was interested in the fact that everyone had a water bottle (with a considerable amount of water in it); it seems obvious that everyone in the building would need a water bottle to stay hydrated and keep their mouths from getting dry, yet it was a common theme-- maybe the only common theme-- with all the students.  Nothing in particular disturbed me, except for the various rehearsals going on in different rooms, which made the music sound more like instruments warming up (not in time with each other) right before a rehearsal than a well-practiced piece.

What to Study, What to Study?

I have been working with the homeless by the Interstate 65 and Wedgewood intersection, befriending and feeding them, for the past two years.  I have noticed a strong community and culture there, especially considering that several people who work for The Contributer distribute the newspaper at the on and off ramps.  In all of my encounters with a variety of homeless people, there seems to be one common theme:  having a meal, meeting a new friend, having someone who cares for them, and receiving simple gifts consisting of the necessities of life, are blessings to them; they are beautiful.  So this got me thinking, what is beautiful?  Not as in who is beautiful or what is beauty, but what is it that makes an object, a food, a piece of clothing, beautiful?  Is it its usefulness, its practicality, the number of functions it has, the intention of the person providing it, or is it the person receiving the gift who, based on their life experiences and current living situation, determines what is beautiful?