Hobohemia was a lifestyle that many people in the 1930’s were forced into. They congregated in Hoovervilles or freight hopped their way from city to city. They worked any heinous job offered to them and never once complained about it. Many people went from living excessive lives to barely surviving. I lived this lifestyle, but unlike those who chose to suffer through those dark, dirty times, I reveled in it.
America was extremely focused on the material things that they lost before the stock market crash that they never noticed what they gained from living through such trying times. I learned much from all of the things I witnessed while living on the road. Some things are easier to explain, like the time a Harvard man helped me onto a moving freight car and then proceeded to teach me about business. Other things I learned are a bit harder to put into words. Like how the layer of filth on everything and everyone exposed the truest and most breathtaking beauty in the world. True loveliness was revealed without the blinding façade of fancy clothes or glittering jewels. Everyone was forced to emerge from behind their piles of money to be exposed as we truly were. That was what seemed to frighten people the most.
Work was scarce but an opportunity always seemed to appear in the moment of my most urgent need. I never held a proper sleeping pattern because I would just drop whenever exhaustion overcame me. I thought myself quite the rebel, savoring the excitement of illegally riding trains and finding delight in my uncleanliness. During that time, I made up my mind that happiness does not find you, but it is something that you can easily conjure from your mentality. The minute I decided to be happy about my situation then I was. I tried spreading this state of consciousness but alas, like the many great philosophers before me, I was scoffed at. “How could you possibly be happy about your ragged clothes and unkempt appearance?” they would ask me. I would counter by inquiring how clean pants and a bar of soap provided happiness. “How could you possibly take pleasure in not knowing when or where your next meal will be?” They never understood the adventure I felt in not knowing.
The Great Depression was a troubling time for America, but did it have to be? I suppose poverty is a horrible disease to most people, but to me it’s a chance to prove your worth as a human being. Maybe America could have prospered in the uncertainty rather than have died trying to merely survive.