I wanted to hand this one over to Tim – let him take the wheel, so to speak, mostly because it has been the wheel he has been primarily responsible for during the entire trip. Here’s where I blush a deep crimson and admit that Tim did 93.2% of the driving (now kiddies, break out your calculators and figure out the exact mileage!). While I have been yack, yack, yacking away, he has been steering, navigating, and, quite literally, propelling us forward. We actually got into a fight about it once (if we are measuring once generously) – I was upset he wasn’t picking up any of the slack with regards to the “office work” (the coordination, the emailing, the calling). He countered that he had no time to do that sort of thing because he was doing all the driving, and how could I not recognize that. We went back and forth, bickering (cough...yelling) about who was actually shouldering more responsibility. We threw around words like “thankless” and, even to my regret, “absolutely worthless” and “pathetic” (And here we are, in the middle of a voluntary pilgrimage of sorts. Oh, the irony). At one point in the conversation, one of us (hi! that would be me) decided this wasn't working and it would be best if we went our seperate ways at the end of our trip, you know, 25 days from now (because that would make the rest of the trip so much more enjoyable). Oh wait, we were sticking around Hawaii for a few days. Fine - a month from now! Damnit, there is the F-ING drive back to get the dogs...40 days from now, Buckaroo, you and me will finished. FINITO! Are you listening?!?!?
(Side note - like that was really going to happen [insert eyeroll at the stupidity of threats made when clearer heads should obviously barge their way in and prevail])
It continued to escalate, blew out of control (if me threatening a breakup, dated 40 days from now, wasn't enough), and we went to sleep angry – actually, I went to bed mad, but I think Tim was only perturbed (Tim angry would be truly, truly frightening), but his ability to dole out insults without verbal hindrance of heighted, stutter inducing emotion made me only madder in the end. It took a full night sleep and a semi awkward encounter at the bathroom skin to begin the conversation anew, starting with “Dude, why are you using my toothbrush?” (you know, the red one? The one in your mouth? Why are you staring at me blankly?…That. Is. MY. TOOTHBRUSH!!!). Turns out, we brought two red toothbrushes with us, lost one, and ended up sharing the same toothbrush to scrub our caustic, wound inflicting tongues. That got a stiflied chuckle. And we agreed to stick to our respective strengths – me running the office and Tim steering, navigating, and propelling us forward.
Ah - being stuck in a car with just one other person for an extended period of time can be so much fun!
But I bring up Tim (well, I always bring up Tim) because today I wanted him to sit down with you, tell it from his side. Bring you his perspective, because that is what he brings to me so often – perspective. Unfortunately, our writing to you, gentle reader, falls under my purview of responsibilities and it may take a bit more to convince dear old Timmy to sit down to the keyboard, which is totally understandable, since he is still recovering from captaining the 18,000 mile drive (and, perhaps, being stuck in a car with me). So tonight, I humbly approach you with a story. A story of friendship, vision, and the difference people can make when they open their eyes, observe their social surroundings, and doggedly pursue their dreams.
Once upon a time (approximately 4 to 6 years ago), there was a woman, one who listened to NPR. On the way to happy hour after work, she hears a segment on pregnant and parenting homeless teenage girls and a facility established to help these girls and their growing families. The segment strikes a cord with her and she finds herself telling her friends about the facility and lamenting the fact that nothing like that exists in Indianapolis (in fact, the primary facility dedicated to helping “unwed” mothers derived a good portion of its revenue from adoptions, so you have to figure they were not trying to keep mothers and their children together). So she and her friends decide to create an organization – no, a home – where homeless teenage mothers could live in a safe and steady environment and really learn to be parents, having caring mentors guide them through decision making and helping them acquire parenting skills, as well as education or employment (hell, don’t the teenage years warrant a mentor, anyway – with or without a dependant child?). But this would be a house that would give young women options – would allow them to not only be mothers, but enable them to be moms as well.
So they set off on their quest, spending years researching, grant writing, acquiring a house and operating funds, as well as skilled professionals to run the organization (and this is in addition to maintaining jobs, relationships, and families). But they reigned triumphant, and here they stand, years later, in the bottom floor of a gutted historic home in Indy with two traveling volunteers. They walk us through the structure, void of walls and ridden with two-by-fours, pointing out that this room will be a kitchen (where the girls will cook communal meals), and that will be the dining room. This will be a bedroom (each resident and their child/children will have their own room and a total of 6 families will be able to find shelter, most expected to stay about two years) and that is where one of the bathrooms will be. Beyond being a wonderfully functional and homey facility, the house, at one time decrepit and rundown, will be restore to its elegant historic standards. After so many years of planning, building the foundations, Project Home Indy is becoming a reality.
For our part, we did not paint, or hammer, or build, but slid behind the wheel of a bulky, bouncy U-haul truck (Tim, characteristically, took point as driver) and traversed the city, collecting dollar and in-kind donations from corporations and private citizens. One company donated cribs, another donated new crib mattresses and bags full of baby staples. A homeowner donated a vanity for one of the bathrooms. Yet another company donated a substantial gift card, as well as necessities such as fire extinguishers, smoke alarms, and baby friendly cleaning supplies. Additional companies donated tables and chairs for the dining room, desks and desk chairs for each individual bedroom, and faucets for the bathrooms and kitchen. And with each donation, we not only witnessed the accumulation of necessary items, but saw a community rallying around a growing organization, fostering its development and enriching it with support.
