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.