Changing the face of homelessness

"I wondered my whole life why I was given the mostly female name of Tracy. I would get made fun of in school for having such a name. It bothered me so much because of being made fun of that my teachers started to call me T.J. to help curb the bullying. This happened pretty much all throughout grade school. "Some of my early classmates would get to know me as T.J. Some who have moved away probably never even got to know my real name. "My grandpa told me a story. I am not sure if it was one of his tall tales or if it could possibly be the truth. "He told me that one night he was driving along the Platte River through a town called Tracy. He told me that he was very hungry and that he had hit a bullfrog on the highway with his car. He took this bullfrog into a local diner in the town of Tracy. "He was wondering if someone in that diner could cook the bullfrog for him. He told me as the cook came from the kitchen into the diner that he fell in love at first sight. ...

  "As I mentioned at the beginning, it was on that Wednesday afternoon in 1972 that I made my first appearance in this world. Beginning this new life, my first breath was taken as an incomplete baby. I was born with the name Tracy Gillespie. There was a man in that room awaiting my arrival. As soon as he laid eyes on me, the first words he ever spoke to me were, "Look at my new Baby Blue Jay!" That comment completed who I was to be known as. This man gave me my very first gift. He gave me my middle name. I became Tracy Jay Gillespie. This gift came from a man whom I would learn to love deeply, the man for whom I would have immense respect, the only man I would ever look up to – the man I would soon be calling my Grandpa. When I was born, I was breech. I was told that I came out shoulder first, and the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck. I was blue when I was born, and that's why Grandpa called me a Baby Blue Jay. Not only was I born without a fully completed n...

In May 2019, I found myself experiencing homelessness once again. As had occurred numerous times before, I simply couldn't manage. Despite considering myself reasonably intelligent, my persistent inability to handle money and finances continued to trouble me. You'd think I would have figured this out by now. History repeated itself; I essentially gave away all my possessions. I took my truck to the scrapyard, drove it across the scales, and received $220. Just two months prior, I had spent $800 on the tires for that very truck. I returned to my empty apartment, possessing only a single bag containing a few articles of clothing, hygiene items, paper for writing, and some snacks. I walked toward downtown St. Joseph, in the same direction as the Missouri River. Within minutes, I found natural shelter beneath an old oak tree. Near the river, you always receive unbiased acknowledgment. It's the wildlife that seems to have a knack for finding you. It might be a pesky raccoon, a s...