On Forget About It.

Paul L. Bucklaw
2 min readNov 13, 2022

My story of becoming homeless is quite simple. It isn’t an unusual tale. I gave up.

In December 0f 2007, I was working as a temp. when our jobs were changed to on call employees. Basically, this left me out of work at Christmas time, again. I had seen Union members making much more money for less work. And had been told that soon I would be making the same. That didn’t happen. They simply and consistently misrepresented the truth. And I let them get away with it.

I had spoken out as usual. I believed that equal pay was the American way. I believed that being able to speak out for one’s rights to fair treatment was the American way.

Although speaking out for the flag and the issues it represents seems logical sometimes it can get you into trouble.

Searching for work and not finding any I decided to volunteer my time for John Edwards. The work was fulfilling.

I was arrested on January 8, 2007, for being at an Obama Rally with a John Edwards sign. Harassed would be a better word. I got on all the big networks.

The courts, prosecutors and judge all seemed in a fog about one’s free speech rights. The words “free speech” were never mentioned. The case muddled on.

My political activism didn’t make it easy to find work.

I started to find odd jobs, just trying to eke out a living. I traded work for rent, as I unlearned my fear of heights, I painted my landlord’s house. The people that I spoke to in my community seemed uncaring to my circumstances, the professionals offered few solutions to the down economic times or my immediate needs. And that really shouldn’t have mattered, since I was the captain of my own fate.

For most people what I was going through would be considered depression but to me it seemed mildly irritating, A mere inconvenience. My spirit, soul, and mind told me that things would get better, I strived as best as I knew how to try to make them better. Somehow my state did not change the writing on the wall. There is no try.

I take full responsibility for my failure to make things work. Although many failings lead to my homelessness, throughout it all I always had the option of making things better. At some point I failed to care what happened. My search for a solution never illuminated. Change is always present, even in giving up.



Paul L. Bucklaw

Who am I ? That is the eternal question. slackivist.com. Writer ? Hero ? Motivator ? Environmentalist ? If you know let me know. Visit demicnews.com