The meaningful life of a homeless man

By any so-called socio-economic definition, Jeb was a permanently homeless individual. He also made it a habit to pay occasional visits to local jails now and then over the course of his life. In fact, that’s where I first met Jeb – while I was teaching a couple of nights each week at the Bristol Jail. There our friendship began, sometime back during the ‘90s.

At those times when he was not being somewhat comfortably incarcerated for public drunkenness, Jeb lived a vagabond life of wandering the countryside. Eating out of dumpsters. Doing a few odd jobs now and then. Often propping up a temporary shelter out of whatever he could find each night along his way.

Jeb was remarkably adept at hands-on carpentry skills. His knowledge of applied geometry could be called astonishingly remarkable. I know this because I invited him out of his cell to help me teach my other students during my GED (high school degree equivalency) class at the jail library. I soon discovered that Jeb knew “real life” applied geometry far better than me. He jokingly told me, “I put it to use every time I build myself a hut for the night.”

Much like the Native Americans of the Great Plains, who packed up every few nights to follow the bison herd, Jeb would carry his basic “home” on his back; a sheet of plastic and a worn-out old blanket. If lucky, he’d find a ledge to lay under. And maybe even a piece of cardboard or two to help shelter himself (at least a tiny bit more) from the nighttime cold.

Some folks might say Jeb lived a poor, unhappy, miserable, and materially unsuccessful life.

Let me rephrase that; most folks might say Jeb lived a poor, unhappy, miserable, and materially unsuccessful life.

And they might (or might not) be right about all that.

However, I did find that Jeb led quite a “meaningful” life.