WAYNE

PHOTO BY RANDY BACON

WAYNE’S STORY

I was a miracle baby. My mother was never supposed to have children, and my brother passed away before me. By the time I was five years old I had seen enough drug activity, I knew what was going on. I remember finding a pipe and some dope, and that's where the life of drugs started for me. I grew up with ten siblings, but the first time I actually met my real dad, I had just turned five and didn't know who he was. I didn't know who my real dad was till I was thirteen, and I couldn't figure out why the man I was calling dad hated me so much. Turns out it wasn’t me that he hated, he hated my dad. I remember one time me, my brother, and my uncle came home from playing, and we were eight minutes late. He took us out in the front yard and lined us up and beat me bloody from the middle of my back to the ends of my knees with a twenty-five foot bullwhip. He sent us to bed, no supper, and told us to go to school the next day. 

I was by my momma's side until I went to Nebraska after my grandparents passed away. I tried to kill myself that day. And a gun that I had for ten years and never misfired once - misfired twice. Now I just want to live life and be happy. I've been homeless for three years. First year I didn't realize it, you know? I was so busy selling drugs and partying it up. Until my ex got us hemmed up for panhandling, I didn't realize that I was homeless. I always had money in my pocket, I always had drugs on hand, and I always had a place to lay my head to be clean. Then, when I got out of jail eleven months later, she had ran up so much debt.

I love my babies. And I would go back to being miserable every day just to be with my son. My ex, the love of my life, my baby momma, just let her family run her life. And I was laying brick six days a week, anywhere from twelve to eighteen hours a day, making $29.75 an hour. I paid all the bills, I’d get home from work, cook dinner, take a shower, read a book to my son, do the dishes. The best memories of my life are the days I’d come home and talk with my girl, talk to her belly when she was pregnant with my son; and then when he was born, the days when I would come home to him full of energy. The day my son was came into the world was the day my heart was born.

After they told me I had stage three esophagus cancer and I had a year and a half left to live, I quit my job, I left my family, I made my life all about drugs. My ex and I, we love one another to death, but we were toxic together. So, she did the unthinkable. She packed up, took our babies, and she moved to another state. She went somewhere she didn't know nobody, didn't have nothing and got a job in another state. I got that diagnosis over four years ago now, and never went back to the doctor. They told me that if I started some chemo I could probably live an extra four months. This is my temple, this is where I go to worship. The human body is an amazing thing.

My dream is to live life and be happy. It's harder some days than others. But, you know, so much good happens in my life. I am blessed every day. And I tell people that every time they ask me 'How are you?'. You know? And for such good stuff to happen all the time, the few bad things that happen, you know what I mean, it just devastates me. But I try not to let that reflect on how others see me. I tell people all the time, and the youngsters especially - the homeless life...this is not the life for you. This is not the life for anybody. This is not a life worth living. Go home. Get a job. Living out here on the street, being cold at night, having nowhere to go, sometimes not knowing where you're going to catch your next meal, you know what I mean? In the past six months, my camp's been burnt down twice. I don't know who did it the first time, but the second time it was what I thought was a really good friend. I've lived my life by the motto of paying it forward, you know? And I don't want nothing back. The only thing I would like - if I stop and help you, just pay it forward.