How bad do you want it?

How would you feel if you found yourself one night sleeping locked in a public bathroom? Chris Gardner was no kid when a series of troubles left him struggling, then homeless as depicted by Will Smith in the 2006 film, The Pursuit of Happyness. It is one thing to be homeless yourself; it is quite another when you have responsibility for a small child.

Public bathroom. ©iStockphoto/JordiDelgado.

Public bathroom. ©iStockphoto/JordiDelgado.

What was Gardner’s staircase out of homelessness? Gardner got a break when he was accepted into the Dean Witter Reynolds stock brokerage training program, a San Francisco based program that provided no salary. Gardner passed the licensing exam and his hard work earned him a permanent, salaried position. A few years later, he started his own brokerage firm and through hard work became a financial success.

Who did Gardner help with his hard earned wealth? According to Wikipedia, one recipient was the Glide Memorial United Methodist Church which allowed Gardner and his son to stay at their women’s shelter when they were homeless.

Up from homelessness

Sleeping bag. ©iStockphoto/stuartrtaylor

Sleeping bag. ©iStockphoto/stuartrtaylor

As we saw from the homelessness stories in one sentence on cardboard signs, homelessness can happen to men and women. Sometimes it happens to those who have yet to hit adulthood. Lifetime aired one such two-hour story in 2003, Homeless to Harvard: The Liz Murray Story

Murray, whose parents are separately living the horror of AIDS from drug-addiction, is shocked into beginning to work her way out of her nightmare when her mother dies. She obtains admission to an alternative high school which she completes in two years instead of four. In a twist of favor, possibly the first of her life, Liz is awarded a scholarship to Harvard by the New York Times for an essay she writes about living homeless.

Murray graduated from Harvard in 2009. She wrote about her experience in Breaking Night: A Memoir of Forgiveness, Survival, and My Journey from Homeless to Harvard.

Back from my future

Sets of my youth have completely changed. Waterside dwellings from the Hot Springs of my childhood and a 1973 Florida summer stay have been transformed from one-level cozy beach cottages to newer towering condos. When there have been drastic changes to a place rendering it barely identifiable, how does the life writer “go back” to earlier days? Traveling back from the future can be particularly difficult when you weren’t there to live through the major changes. Research can provide support we need.

Adirondack chair on beach. ©iStockphoto/Pelikanz

Adirondack chair on beach. ©iStockphoto/Pelikanz

1. Identify “the” expert. While a basic Internet search is handy, attempts at discovering things from decades ago online can be frustratingly disappointing. A search some time ago had yielded a postcard of the cottages where I lived, but little else. This time my search hit pay dirt. An “expert” had published a picture book on the place in 2013. If you are registered at Amazon and the book provides for searching, you can find more than what is displayed through the limited “look inside.” I found the woman who was our landlady and the first place I worked!

2. Research the expert. Once I had the name of an expert on the place, I searched for him online hoping at best to find an email address. What I found was a treasure trove! The writer is on staff at a local institution. Even better, he’s a speaker on the subject who has shared his talk materials online! Countless other visuals were immediately accessible!

3. Look for bibliographical sources. Top quality writers, like the expert I discovered, source the primary source materials (like photographs) they use. So, I was able to pinpoint other sources that might help my search. Your simple search engine search grows in fruitfulness when you find an expert that opens doors to materials buried in rich archival holdings.

Look for ways to dig deeper!

One thing that’s better old

The handyman arrived thirty minutes before he said he would. From my viewpoint, that’s a very good sign. I need a few boards replaced. When you have an older frame home, the routine, at some point, is going to be rot, replace, paint.

Cracked and peeling paint on a house that isn't mine. ©iStockphoto/jhorrocks

Cracked and peeling paint on a house that isn’t mine. ©iStockphoto/jhorrocks

“See that wood,” he said pointing at remaining original boards used ca. 1950 to build my home. I nodded. “It’s better than that wood,” he said pointing to newer boards replaced since I’ve owned the home.

Someone pointing to something older that’s better than something new is music to the ears of a sexy-generian. I clarified the cost again.

“You’ve got the job,” I said.