Homeless and on the Road
From James Donahue's Records:
There is nothing scarier than being homeless. And there we were, in a hopeless state, marooned at Gallup, New Mexico. We didn't plan it that way. Doris, Jennifer and I were struck by the first of what was to be a long succession of obstacles put in our way. I cannot explain it, but something kept us going in those days. There was a spiritual drive going on inside of us and we were consciously aware that we were in Arizona on a mission, it involved the Hopi, but beyond that, we were running totally on an inner faith that we were right where we belonged and that everything would be just fine.
By nature I have always been an extremely cautious person so it is impossible to explain what it was that motivated me to do what we did. I never gamble. Every move I make has always been carefully calculated so that I am sure that the outcome will be favorable. As wild as our moves were getting during the summer of 1995, I apparently thought we had a plan that was going to work. And, indeed, there was a plan. After her experience with the Indian reservation at Wounded Knee, Doris applied for a government position on any of the many reservations in the United States. Once her name was on the books, she could be considered for a federal job. Somewhere along the way Doris negotiated by telephone with a laboratory supervisor in a federal hospital at Ganado, Arizona, in the heart of the Navajo Nation. She was promised not only a job there, but a home for us to live in. This job opened suddenly and Doris was given about four days to get from Michigan to Ganado to report to work. We didn’t have time to think about it. Everything happened so fast we seemed powerless to do anything to divert what was about to happen next.
Thus it was that for the second time in the same year, I stood in the yard of our Michigan home, watching Doris and Jennifer drive off into the horizon. We were in the midst of the long process of selling our house but someone had to stay behind and get the transaction completed, get our affairs in order, rent a truck and move our remaining belongings. While the auction virtually erased all of our furniture, dishes, and other unneeded things, there were still the clothes, shoes, a television, portable refrigerator, dishes, computer, books and other things we chose to take with us. It virtually filled a good-sized Ryder truck. Dog also stayed behind with me. In the end, Dog and I left Michigan together about two weeks later.
When she left for Arizona, Doris was assured of a job and a place for us to live. But something strange happened while she was on route. It was in mid-October and the government, which operates on a financial calendar that starts on October 1, was in the throes of a political dilemma.
The Republican Congress was wrangling over the new budget. During the very days that Doris and Jennifer were driving across the country, President Bill Clinton shut down the federal government, put a freeze on new jobs and declared that anyone who quit their federal job would not be replaced until the new budget was in place. Thus when Doris arrived at Ganado, her job was no longer waiting for her. There was a promise, however, that when conditions changed, she would again be considered.
I knew all of this as I continued ahead with the paperwork to get our house sold, rented the truck, and loaded it for the move west. Doris and I kept in daily telephone contact. At the time, however, we remained optimistic that the government job freeze would be temporary and that Doris would have a job and a house for us to live in by the time I arrived. But I found Doris and Jennifer staying in a motel in Gallup, New Mexico, burning up what cash reserves we had in food and lodging, as they waited for this situation to change.
We found ourselves in a very serious situation. The house in Michigan was sold, but we were still waiting for all of the legal work to be concluded so that we could get our money. Once our debts were paid, we would have a small cash balance, but it was going to take a few more weeks before this money arrived. In the meantime, we were going to have to live on a very limited amount of money. If we were going to make it, we could not continue living in that motel and eating restaurant food.
I rented a storage locker in Gallup and put our belongings there. We spent the next few days driving around, exploring the territory. Our travels took us south to Zuni, in the heart of the Zuni Indian tribe, and northwest through the Navajo Reservation to the Hopi Lands. We went east to Albuquerque to visit my brother, Steve, in the hope of getting a rent-free place to hang out for a few days until Doris got news about her job. Even though they had two spare bedrooms and lots of room, Steve and Paula made it clear that we were not welcome. The following day we returned to Gallup.
Instead of stopping in Gallup, however, we decided to continue about a hundred miles farther west until we arrived at Holbrook, Arizona. There, along the highway, a small flea market was operating. We could not resist stopping. There, in the hot desert sun, we met Glen Edwards. Glen and his wife, whose name I have now forgotten, were also new arrivals in Arizona and they were about as knee deep in trouble as we were. Because of a bad heart, Glen took an early retirement from his job as a traveling salesman for a Chicago chemical company, and spent his life's savings, an estimated $70,000, on a Holbrook motel. Unfortunately, he bought the property sight unseen. What Glen did not know was that most folks in Arizona are natural thieves. It is such a rugged area, and because of a lack of jobs and cash, people get used to stealing and swindling just to survive. Glen dumped his life's savings on an old abandoned motel, located on what was once the famed Route 66. But the road leading to this particular motel had been abandoned for about 12 years after the new Interstate 40 was built. The motel had been used as a den for prostitution and drugs for a while until police raided it. After that the place sat abandoned for about ten years until Glen came along.
The rooms were full of furniture, the power and water still were hooked up, but everything was in a state of decay. The roof was leaking. Paint was pealing from the walls. The electrical service tripped from overload the moment you turned on an iron while the television was running. Everything smelled of mold and dust. There was a lot of work to be done.
Glenn was desperate to get his rooms rented. He was offering them as cheap rental units. Luckily some of the rooms had adjoining kitchenettes. He offered us a room for $200 a month. The price was so good we took two rooms, so Jennifer could enjoy her own room next to ours and everybody had privacy. Thus it was that we moved into Glen's old abandoned motel. It wasn't much, but at least we now had a roof over our heads. Now we had time to reorganize and decide what to do next.
From James Donahue's Records:
There is nothing scarier than being homeless. And there we were, in a hopeless state, marooned at Gallup, New Mexico. We didn't plan it that way. Doris, Jennifer and I were struck by the first of what was to be a long succession of obstacles put in our way. I cannot explain it, but something kept us going in those days. There was a spiritual drive going on inside of us and we were consciously aware that we were in Arizona on a mission, it involved the Hopi, but beyond that, we were running totally on an inner faith that we were right where we belonged and that everything would be just fine.
By nature I have always been an extremely cautious person so it is impossible to explain what it was that motivated me to do what we did. I never gamble. Every move I make has always been carefully calculated so that I am sure that the outcome will be favorable. As wild as our moves were getting during the summer of 1995, I apparently thought we had a plan that was going to work. And, indeed, there was a plan. After her experience with the Indian reservation at Wounded Knee, Doris applied for a government position on any of the many reservations in the United States. Once her name was on the books, she could be considered for a federal job. Somewhere along the way Doris negotiated by telephone with a laboratory supervisor in a federal hospital at Ganado, Arizona, in the heart of the Navajo Nation. She was promised not only a job there, but a home for us to live in. This job opened suddenly and Doris was given about four days to get from Michigan to Ganado to report to work. We didn’t have time to think about it. Everything happened so fast we seemed powerless to do anything to divert what was about to happen next.
Thus it was that for the second time in the same year, I stood in the yard of our Michigan home, watching Doris and Jennifer drive off into the horizon. We were in the midst of the long process of selling our house but someone had to stay behind and get the transaction completed, get our affairs in order, rent a truck and move our remaining belongings. While the auction virtually erased all of our furniture, dishes, and other unneeded things, there were still the clothes, shoes, a television, portable refrigerator, dishes, computer, books and other things we chose to take with us. It virtually filled a good-sized Ryder truck. Dog also stayed behind with me. In the end, Dog and I left Michigan together about two weeks later.
When she left for Arizona, Doris was assured of a job and a place for us to live. But something strange happened while she was on route. It was in mid-October and the government, which operates on a financial calendar that starts on October 1, was in the throes of a political dilemma.
The Republican Congress was wrangling over the new budget. During the very days that Doris and Jennifer were driving across the country, President Bill Clinton shut down the federal government, put a freeze on new jobs and declared that anyone who quit their federal job would not be replaced until the new budget was in place. Thus when Doris arrived at Ganado, her job was no longer waiting for her. There was a promise, however, that when conditions changed, she would again be considered.
I knew all of this as I continued ahead with the paperwork to get our house sold, rented the truck, and loaded it for the move west. Doris and I kept in daily telephone contact. At the time, however, we remained optimistic that the government job freeze would be temporary and that Doris would have a job and a house for us to live in by the time I arrived. But I found Doris and Jennifer staying in a motel in Gallup, New Mexico, burning up what cash reserves we had in food and lodging, as they waited for this situation to change.
We found ourselves in a very serious situation. The house in Michigan was sold, but we were still waiting for all of the legal work to be concluded so that we could get our money. Once our debts were paid, we would have a small cash balance, but it was going to take a few more weeks before this money arrived. In the meantime, we were going to have to live on a very limited amount of money. If we were going to make it, we could not continue living in that motel and eating restaurant food.
I rented a storage locker in Gallup and put our belongings there. We spent the next few days driving around, exploring the territory. Our travels took us south to Zuni, in the heart of the Zuni Indian tribe, and northwest through the Navajo Reservation to the Hopi Lands. We went east to Albuquerque to visit my brother, Steve, in the hope of getting a rent-free place to hang out for a few days until Doris got news about her job. Even though they had two spare bedrooms and lots of room, Steve and Paula made it clear that we were not welcome. The following day we returned to Gallup.
Instead of stopping in Gallup, however, we decided to continue about a hundred miles farther west until we arrived at Holbrook, Arizona. There, along the highway, a small flea market was operating. We could not resist stopping. There, in the hot desert sun, we met Glen Edwards. Glen and his wife, whose name I have now forgotten, were also new arrivals in Arizona and they were about as knee deep in trouble as we were. Because of a bad heart, Glen took an early retirement from his job as a traveling salesman for a Chicago chemical company, and spent his life's savings, an estimated $70,000, on a Holbrook motel. Unfortunately, he bought the property sight unseen. What Glen did not know was that most folks in Arizona are natural thieves. It is such a rugged area, and because of a lack of jobs and cash, people get used to stealing and swindling just to survive. Glen dumped his life's savings on an old abandoned motel, located on what was once the famed Route 66. But the road leading to this particular motel had been abandoned for about 12 years after the new Interstate 40 was built. The motel had been used as a den for prostitution and drugs for a while until police raided it. After that the place sat abandoned for about ten years until Glen came along.
The rooms were full of furniture, the power and water still were hooked up, but everything was in a state of decay. The roof was leaking. Paint was pealing from the walls. The electrical service tripped from overload the moment you turned on an iron while the television was running. Everything smelled of mold and dust. There was a lot of work to be done.
Glenn was desperate to get his rooms rented. He was offering them as cheap rental units. Luckily some of the rooms had adjoining kitchenettes. He offered us a room for $200 a month. The price was so good we took two rooms, so Jennifer could enjoy her own room next to ours and everybody had privacy. Thus it was that we moved into Glen's old abandoned motel. It wasn't much, but at least we now had a roof over our heads. Now we had time to reorganize and decide what to do next.