Hello again, Sunny. This is the second part of my letter to you (and everyone else).
No, I never did get the kind assistance that I should have at the end of that day in Milford, Pennsylvania. Instead, I got this:
MY REACTION TO THE CRANKY MILFORD COP
If not for the intervention of a concerned guy in a Jeep, I would have ended up in a very tough position. As it is...my situation didn't get all that much better.
(Because some people have not seen my updates on Facebook, I am including some of the video updates here.)
The guy in the Jeep dropped me off at a State Park, just after sunset. Then he turned around (he had to go back to another road) and drove away. I walked up the steps of the split-log cabin office and opened the door. I was greeted by two young women, there.
They contacted the rangers who drove me out to a campsite that I considered to be a little too far out!!
Words From The Really Dark Woods
The next day, the whole area revealed itself in a totally different way.
Words From A Really Fair Forest
Anyway, you get the point.
So, I took a shower in the rustic park and then I tromped out to the highway. I eventually got a ride and made it to the Salvation Army shelter in East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. And that is where, my dear Sunny, I ran into a problem that shouldn't exist.
I was told by the shelter staff that I could hang-out there for the evening but when the shelter closed down for the night, I would have to leave.
Because I am not a Pennsylvania resident. I don't own a Pennsylvania driver license or valid ID card. My ID proudly displays my smiling face...under the banner of the Great State of Oregon.
And for that reason...and that reason alone...I was sent out into a raging thunderstorm at ten o'clock that
I thought about my friends--> Phil, Dana and Andy back in Illinois...and I felt like I was miles and miles away from real humanity.
I walked up the sidewalk and tried to dodge the raindrops and the lightening. Then I saw a big Elks building.
It has a huge porch, which is covered by an overhang and supported by enormous white pillars. I ducked into that "shelter from the storm" and called the cops. I was out of answers and sitting in a private space,
therefor I had no choice but to contact the local po-po.
The Benevolent Protective Order For Roadies
Eventually a cop showed up. He turned out to be a man who was clearly caught between the rules of his job and doing the right thing. We talked for a few minutes and then he left me there, with his blessing, for the rest
of the night.
It is hard to imagine how he just turned around and walked away. But when he did, his shoulders hunched and he didn't appear to be happy with his community, his job or himself.
I sat as far back from the open sky as I could and listened to the thunder and watched the lightening lash out...over and over again. And as I sat there, on my backpack, I looked at the tall houses around me.
There was nothing more that I could do...and that was my last thought before I stretched out on the cold,
red bricks and finally fell asleep.
(-To Be Continued-)