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About Street roots. (Portland, OR) 1998-current | View Entire Issue (May 11, 2012)
Street roots May 11, 2012 Lives lived unconventionally connect author and readers BY LAURA MOULTON climb out of the life he knew, with its preoccupation about making money to n the early 1990s, in Provo, Utah, I survive, and open himself up to something worked at the Food and Shelter grander. In 1993, he typed a note to his Coalition, in a worn two-story white friends that said he had “boycotted his house with a square of grass in front. In the native civilization and receded into the main room were tables covered in brightly primitive desert lands of the Anasazi for a patterned oilcloth, vases of plastic flowers life of disciplined vision-quest.” on each. People came seeking meals, sack The desert was Moab, Utah. He was not lunches or a voucher mentally ill and had no addictions, but knew for emergency shelter what it was like to wrestle with his own "This is a beautiful, thoughtful, and wonderful book, 1 suspect I at the dilapidated thoughts, to be alone with himself and be may find myself thinking about it every day for the rest of my life.'' -“ Eiicabetb Gilbert Hotel Roberts. They dissatisfied by what he saw. Over the next came by foot, or in decade, Suelo’s longings to live outside the listing RVs, or had established system would take him in and hopped off a train and out of jobs, states, countries, and end with crossed the tracks him taking up residence in a cave in the into town. One man desert. In 2000, he left his last thirty dollars lived in a tent in the at a pay phone and gave up money Wasatch Mountains, altogether. where he awaited Writer Mark Sundeen knew Daniel Suelo revelation from God, from the early days in Moab, after a stint and another, in his together at a restaurant where they both eighties, who squatted worked as cooks. They had run in the same in a basement, rode a general crowd, a population more concerned In 2000, Daniel Suelo gave away child’s bike complete with living well in the desert than with the his life savings. And began to live. with a banana seat business of making a living, and it didn’t Mark Sundeen and tassels on the surprise Sundeen to hear of Suelo’s handlebars. attempts to live off the land. But when he Everyone came heard Suelo had decided to quit money from different places, altogether, he figured it was a sign Suelo some living outside by had finally gone a little mad. By now choice, and others Sundeen was making money as a writer, had gripped, by addictions a house and had grown to appreciate giving them the ride of their lives. But what creature comforts he’,d eschewed in his past The Man Who they had in common when they stepped life. But when the economy tanked in 2008, Quit Money, by through the doors and sat down for a meal with bad mortgages and speculation, the Mark Sundeen was that each knew what it was like to sleep savings and pensions of millions of people outside, to wonder when and where they disappeared, and Sundeen suddenly saw might eat next. They knew the particular that Daniel Suelo might have a point when brand of solitude offered by “no particular he said, “Money is an illusion.” Where had place to go.” And they knew what it was like all that money gone? to be outside of the busy-ness of living, Mark Sundeen’s quest to find Daniel where people strode purposefully down Suelo again and to study the life he has chosen is the subject of his latest book, sidewalks and climbed into cars and drove “The Man Who Quit Money.” Part to jobs, and then repeated the process at the end of the day. Whatever their particular biography, part examination of economics and philosophy, the book traces Suelo’s grief or haunting, whatever had brought journey from his upbringing in a them to the place they inhabited, they knew fundamentalist Christian home in Colorado, what it was like to be alone, and alone with through college in Boulder, to a stint in the their thoughts. It was enough to drive a Peace Corps in Ecuador. Using body crazy, but it also offered a kind of trial by fire: if they could survive themselves, and correspondence from family and friends, Sundeen reconstructs Suelo’s early days and that look down into their very core, then the beginnings of his unconventional life. they could survive anything. Sundeen also examines America’s Two hundred miles south of where we set consumer-driven culture, and its apparent the tables at the Food and Shelter Coalition, fear and distrust of any other kind of life. a man named Daniel Suelo was locked in “Begging may be the most shameful act in the same trial with himself. He wished to C O N T R IB U T IN G W R IT E R S I .Quit America,” he writes. “It’s how we define failure: if you don’t work hard and get good grades, you’ll end up on the street, panhandling for change.” Sundeen cites examples of different Eastern religions in which holy men who have pledged to a life of poverty receive respect from their communities, in addition to the alms they are given. Daniel Suelo does not panhandle. He doesn’t visit shelters for meals or lodging. But there is a kind of holiness in the foraging he does from nature, the meals he is able to create from a dumpster. “My philosophy is to use only what is freely given or discarded,” he writes, “and what is already present and already running.” Not everyone need renounce all possessions and head for the desert. But The Man Who Quit Money suggests it might be useful to consider whether we really need everything we have. And perhaps those who accumulate fewer material possessions over their lifetimes should be respected rather than disdained. Suelo has said, “I don’t expect everybody to live in a cave and Dumpster-dive. I do implore everybody to take only what they know in their own hearts that they need, and give up excess to those who have less than they need.” When Daniel Suelo agreed to go forward with Sundeen’s book project, it was important to him that people who had no money to buy the book would still get a chance to read it. That is how Mark Sundeen came to contact Street Books, Portland’s bicycle-powered mobile library that serves people living outside. “Could you offer the books to your patrons?” Sundeen wondered. His publisher sent us free copies of the book, and the first Street Books patron to read the book is Mark Hubbell, who said he enjoyed reading it, and wrote this summary: “In th is so ciety w h e re m o st o f th e national identity is enmeshed with the idea of material property (which the 14th Amendment guarantees), one man who believes that “money is illusion and that attachment to that illusion makes us illusion” has found what the oldest of civilizations have known all along, life simply Mark Sundeen and Daniel Suelo will be reading from The Man Who Quit Money, at Powells on Hawthorne, May 17 at 7:30. Daniel Suelo writes a blog at zerocurrency. blogspot.com. Information about author Mark Sundeen can be found at marksundeen.com Laura M oulton is a writer and teacher in Portland. She is a street librarian at Street Books, a bicycle-powered mobile library, serving people who live outside. More information can be fo u n d at streetbooks.org. Finding a caring community keeps this vendor standing tall BY MARLON CRUMP C O N T R IB U T IN G W R IT E R Com m unity cannot feed for long on itself it can only flourish with the coming o f others from beyond, their unknown and undiscovered brothers. ” , , — Howard Thurman, American Theologian, clergyman and activist e all somehow relate to life despite day-to-day activities or hardship. Be it a mother, a father, single parent, children, passerby, private citizen, prominent figure, public official, a hardworking employee, etc., and anyone in W any form of struggle. Eight months ago, I arrived here from San Francisco, Calif., with a goal and a priority: Peace of mind. Circumstances surrounding my work within the community became too chaotic to withstand any longer. My greatest regret upon my retreat was leaving a very wonderful community of comrades who have more than made a positive difference in my life. For the sake of my soul and sanity, I moved on to wholeheartedly heal from a darkness that was spearing my spirit. “Don’t let yesterday use up too much of today,” goes the Cherokee proverb. Almost immediately upon my arrival in August last year, I made a startling discovery of love and support from caring communities through Street Roots. As one of its street vendors who sell its paper on a daily basis, I’ve been extremely blessed to venture out into the community and meeting supportive people who’ve embraced me as part of their own. “Collectively, we can begin to build towards real community change. Israel Bayer, director of Street Roots explains of the relationship it has with the community. “From a newspaper perspective we are changing thé way people think about poverty and contributing to a larger conversation about solutions and hope. The communities of Mississippi/Shaver, and employees in the Standard Insurance Building, located on Southwest Fourth Avenue and Taylor Street have become a major lifeline of ongoing support for me. Everyone from all walks of life who smiles genuinely in my direction showing respect equally earns mine, in gratitude. Even to those who quickly look away from me for whatever reason, positive personalities parallel someone in need. Supporters at times do U-turns after seeing and sensing a positive aura to make a donation, or share words of wisdom. Typically, I’m a human statue with a stance of a symbolic smile, exchanging its genuine energy to everyone who needs it, while holding a stack of Street Roots. One of the primary perceptions people have of me surrounding ambition and success is in the pride in my appearance - in properly suited attire. Consistent compliments I receive ignite an energetic friendly feeling within me of appreciation for acceptance. My darkest days are never lifted with a frown, as they stay smothered in my smile. Love is confirmed when people ask me how my day is going: whether the weather chooses to shine or shun us makes no difference, being our own breakfast and easing away any difficult or weary day, exchanging how we relate in some way shape or form through brief and lengthy conversations. And at the same time, informing every single supporter of the content in the latest edition. “I have been a reader and supporter of Street Roots for a number of years.” says Mary Anne Joyce, an employee of the Standard Insurance Building. “I read it because the journalism is great, and I read stories I would not read anywhere else.” Joyce interacts with other Street Roots vendors and me in general. “I especially like Marlon Crump who sells the paper at the building in which I work. He and I are from Cleveland, Ohio, which means we are friendly, and difficult to discourage.” Another supporter, Mary Hull, also an employee at the Standard Insurance Building, shares Joyce’s similar sentiments. “I like Street Roots because it addresses topics that really matters (or should matter) to people who live or work in this city. There’s nothing shallow in it, no ‘fluff.’ And it tries hard to give everyone a voice.” Real wealth in spirit is a welcoming community, a true legitimate level of love for everyone to hopefully reach at some point. Marlon Crump is a Street Roots vendor who sells in downtown Portland near Southwest Fourth Avenue and Taylor Street.
