M - The Story of an Occupier

12.4.11
My neighbor’s army of blow up Santas and reindeer lie deflated, scattered about his lawn like so many brightly colored, plastic corpses slain in battle.

M

So, what’s my street cred, my rep with all this Occupy stuff? I have been overwhelmed and overindulging in the whole morass since day 2 of the occupation of Zuccotti Park, September 18. For years before that, I had spent my life becoming aware of and working toward solutions for the problems which have now boiled over into the international spotlight. Mind you, I say this not for acclaim, but to let you, my readers, know where I’m coming from. As the movement approaches 4 months of evolution, it seems like a lifetime.

Occupy Nashville began taking shape at our first General Assembly on October 2, the first Sunday of the month. I participated in organizing conversations leading up to the “Dragon Park GA”, and met some fascinating people who are still very involved. We began the physical occupation of Legislative Plaza on the following Saturday, the 8th. I was not able to occupy until the second week and spent about 8 nights over the next two weeks. For every 2 nights I spent on the plaza, I spent 3 days. This is just to say I have been involved since day one with ON, worked for the cause everyday in whatever capacity my circumstances permitted.

Along the way, I have, as I said, met some fascinating, extraordinary people. There is Ov3rkill, a slender guy with a neat pony tail down to his waist. He is never seen without his Guy Fawkes mask, and rarely in public without a nice, laminated sign reading “free hugs” hanging from around his neck. He is my 8 year old son’s favorite occupier. Then, there’s MajikNinja, a genius tech guy with whom I have spent several nights tag-teaming on the livestream.

However, I write not to profile the multitude of the kind who populate the movement both in the Plaza and online, but to tell the story of one man. I will call him M. I met M my first night on the Plaza, set my tent up next to his, with his help, as the rain set in. We spent many hours talking in the Plaza. He was very insightful as to what needed to be done re: housekeeping in the fledgling camp. It was the second week of the occupation. He had been on the Plaza since the first days.

M is a homeless man. As I would learn, he would give you anything he had if it would help you out. All he asked in return was your respect. In our time together, I learned volumes about humanity in general through his story. I saw in M the dedication to and power in the movement which has inspired me to press on through more than one trough.

M grew up on 5,000 acres somewhere in rural Tennessee. His father had purchased the cut over timber land for a pittance. He told stories of running wild in the woods, hunting, fishing, camping. To me, a nature lover who grew up in the migratory fashion of an Air Force family, his childhood sounded idyllic.

As a boy, he helped his father run crews they had contracted to bush-hog power line easements. The mowing would begin before dawn, and continue non-stop until after the sun had set. M’s job was ensure the tractor operators had everything they needed to stay on task. Later in life, M and his father ran a few very lucrative night clubs.

At some point, things went off the rails for M. He was convicted of a violent crime. His family lands were sold with much of the proceeds going for his defense. Then, a spell of drug addiction followed. Now, he lives on the streets. Rather, I should say, now he lives at Legislative Plaza and serves as an anchor of the encampment in a multitude of ways.

Issues re: the homeless have been front and center for the occupation movement. This issue assaults us from two fronts – the needs of the disenfranchised as a part of the OWS worldview, and how the occupations handle the needs of the homeless at encampments. This is by no means unique to ON. What is unique is we have M. One could have no better ally in this department than M.

M speaks the language of the homeless. He knows the needs, the culture, and many of the actual individuals in that population. Walking through downtown with M, which I did many times daily, I was astounded. Every homeless person we encountered either knew M or M knew them. Many of these faces became familiar to me at the Plaza. As with any population, some were assets, some were burdens. M knew the lowdown the minute anyone from the homeless world set foot on the Plaza.

M has helped in every department regarding the daily functioning of the camp. He is the lubrication which, much to his frustration at times, tries to keep things going smoothly – taking in and doling out supplies, guiding those new to the Plaza as to where to set up camp, diffusing tensions when he can. If one needs anything, and one knows M, problem solved. He reminds me of the wily quarter master in a WWII movie – always wheeling and dealing to make sure his people have what they need.

When I first met M, he and a friend were piled in a small tent. He was going to break camp for a day or two and get a cheap hotel room to weather the coming cold and wet. When I returned to Nashville next, we planned on making a trip to Hermitage where his sister was going to loan him a much larger 4 man tent. This became my home as well for my future visits to the Plaza.
Here, I must depart his story and return to mine for a bit. Since the first GA, I have tried helping ON thru the Media Team, the best way I have found to contribute from a distance. I live two hours from the Plaza so my trips up and time on site must come in erratic chunks, a few days here, a few days there. Working with the Media Team, we field media requests, find appropriate interviewees, proof read press releases, occasionally speak with the media on behalf of ON, and broadcast on our Livestream channel.

One day, after several interviews with national and international media, I decided to Google myself. What I found sent me through the roof. The topic of homelessness and the occupations was gathering steam, becoming a focus of the main stream national media as occupations across the country were experiencing the same issues. What set me off was a quotation in the Wall Street Journal that I had “shared a tent with a homeless man”. Nothing was farther from the truth. The piece made me sound like some benevolent yuppie, helping out the poor homeless guy. Bullshit.

The fact of the matter is that a homeless man provided this comfortable homeowner with shelter. This is a standing offer which has been in place now for over 2 months. M is a man, as I said, who would share whatever he had if you needed it, for nothing in return but respect, being treated as a person, not some demographic statistic. Now wouldn’t that be a nice way to run the planet?

My last night spent on the Plaza was sometime just after ON’s first month occupation anniversary, after the raids. At that point, I had running full throttle for more than two months. If I wasn’t sleeping on the Plaza, I was on the computer or the phone. Time became suspended. When I looked at a calendar, I was shocked at how little time had passed and how much had been accomplished. Occupations were now a national phenomenon. ON had weathered our raids, some of the first in the country, with precedent setting results.

And I collapsed. I had to abort, with M’s hearty agreement, my last trip to the Plaza. I spent one night when I planned on three, and hobbled back to the mountain to endure 3 weeks of horrible sickness. What started as the flu, progressed to a chest cold, sinus infection, and laryngitis. Now, 5 weeks after that, I can finally say I have felt 99% for several days.

Every day, sometimes more than once a day, M has called. He always asks when I will return and reminds me he can put me up, I don’t need a tent. We talk about the latest Plaza Drama and how things are going otherwise. With these calls, I feel a visceral connection to the Plaza. I have called on M to deal with on site issues which have come to my attention.

During my hiatus from living on the Plaza, I have made one day trip. My son, an avid ON supporter, Livestream special guest, and voice of the movement in his elementary school, wanted to visit the Plaza. Going to Nashville is a special treat for us. It is truly “going to the big city”. We live in a tiny college town on the Southern Cumberland Plateau so such trips need to pack a punch. The Frist was hosting an Ancient Egypt exhibit which, if my childhood was any clue, I knew he would enjoy. So, we made our plans – visit the Plaza, hit the museum, go back to the Plaza if we felt like it.

After 10 minutes at ON, he was already begging that we come back for several hours. We spent a couple hours there and then headed over to the museum. I made my rounds during our first visit, so whatever the lad wanted to do was OK with me when we returned. We could be leisurely on our second visit.

We said hello to M when we first arrived, and upon return, sat with him for quite a while. There were about 10 people in the circle. M asked my son what he thought about all of this, pulling the 8 year old into the discussion of the circle. Myers, my son, told M he wanted to come to the Plaza and spend the night. M razzed Myers a little about how hard the granite expanse is, wouldn’t he be afraid if he had a tent by himself, all with humorous results.

(Disclaimer – I really don’t think an 8 year old needs to be at the Plaza in the wee hours. The camp needs to come a long way before I would feel comfortable with that. Maybe we could organize a family night sometime when weather is promising.)

Then, Myers saw someone trying, without much success, to fly a kite on an incredibly windy day. The kite flyer was someone whom we had said hello on our first lap of the encampment, someone I knew, so I told Myers to go help, which he did with enthusiasm. I let him run for a while, unconcerned for his safety, knowing he was surrounded by a family of sorts. Other children were laughing and running around, some with parents in tow, others as free as they pleased. I saw parents, whom I had met, with their children, and those children running up to occupiers to be greeted with a big hugs.

After he lost interest in the kite, Myers talked to a dog, we helped some folks set up their tents, and he discovered that he could jump from the wall of one fountain to the next. M wanted me to run him up to McDonalds before we left, as he could not face another vegan casserole of undefined contents. When fear of Myers’ leaps, imaginings of falling short and impacting the sharp corners of the walls, became too great, I corralled him toward the car and with M made our way to McD’s. An extra large sweet tea and two double cheeseburgers doesn’t seem that difficult of an order, but it became a comedy of errors which left us all laughing.

When dropping M off at the Plaza, he reminded Myers that he had space in M’s tent whenever he wanted it. Myers still holds hope of taking M up on his offer. Last night, Myers was invited to a Predators hockey game with a friend. The minute he learned about a trip to Nashville, he wanted to go visit the occupation. I told M about their possible visit and he was overflowing with enthusiasm, telling me to tell Myers he was still camped in the same spot, and he insisted on Myers paying a visit. M went on to say that if the Mom in charge wanted free parking, he could get her close to the Plaza, a short walk from the Preds game.

When I told Myers about this, that if they went, they needed to check in with M, he responded “Is he the funny man we took to McD’s who said he would share his tent with us?” Yes, my son, that is M.