My son is homeless. Again. I made him that way because I know that if he isn’t forced to see why he wants a job, he will never get one. Most kids his age are starting in college. He would be, too, if not for this little detour.
He was supposed to support himself for a year so he could be clear on what he wants to do for a living and what he will be willing to do to get there. Instead, he hopped in the van I gave him and went on a wild tour of the United States.
He learned a lot. Unluckily the main thing he learned is that Americans are remarkably generous. Until the van broke down, he could beg for food, gas, and money everywhere he went. He kept his needs simple, so it wasn’t hard to get them met. Only once or twice did he get stuck somewhere that he didn’t want to be.
Then winter hit. He ended up on my couch, but he didn’t come alone. He brought into my home a constantly revolving collection of homeless kids. One girl would go off to high school from my living room every morning for months. Not once did I hear from any source that her parents were looking for her.
Now that I’m not worried about him freezing to death I’ve kicked him out again. Again, he is supposed to support himself for a year, and then I’ll pay for his college. Again, he doesn’t have a job or much inclination to get one.
Is it too soon for my hair to turn gray?
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