The devastation of the Great Depression reached virtually every person in the United States. The rich lost their riches, the middle class became destitute, and the poor turned to dust and blew away. The financial impacts were obvious, immediate and overwhelming, but there were a number of other losses.
One non-monetary, but equally destructive, loss experienced by millions of Americans was that of faith. For every penniless bum and wandering hobo who prayed his or her way through the Depression, there was one who found no solace in religion. For some, God was deemed to have died. For others, the higher power had turned its back on them. Many more simply abandoned their faith, concluding that they had been on their own all along.
The rampant faithlessness among the nation's hoboes makes the life of Achilles Snail-Hair the Buddha one of the more surprising of the stories I've uncovered to date.
Achilles' path from a normal life to hobodom was unremarkable. He was the only child of young Greek immigrants. His father, a grocer, was accidentally crushed to death under a truckload of honeydew melons when Achilles was five. Before he turned thirteen, his mother was gone, as well. She was a hairdresser, and was giving her son a "snail do" when she badly burned her hand on a hot iron curler. The wound became infected, and within two weeks she had succumbed. From there, Achilles, who kept the snail hairdo for the rest of his days, went quickly from odd jobs to blah blah blah to hobo.
He had been raised Greek Orthodox, but there was little room in his difficult vagrant life for such strict and solemn worship. As the 1930s - and Achilles' twenties - dragged on, his faith waned. He kept mostly to himself, but when he met other hoboes, he was always warm, cordial and quietly friendly. He grew wise. He made no enemies, but many lifelong friends.
None of this is what makes his story stand out. What was unique was the way people sought Achilles, now called Achilles Snail-Hair the Buddha, for words of wisdom, hope and enlightenment. He was respected for his gentle, sage advice and insights, and loved for his genuine compassion and love for all of his fellow humans. His reputation grew, but as it did so, it turned into something it shouldn't have.
He was thought to be some kind of enlightened spiritual leader, a preacher, a Buddha, but the fact is, he had almost no faith left. He was just a really sweet little man, with a strong belief in the goodness of his brethren. If you asked him a question, he would smile thoughtfully and give you the answer. He was also short, and had a plump, round belly that protruded as though he might be a mannish-looking mother-to-be. In Hobo Nation, a quiet, wise, friendly man who looked like the Buddha was assumed to be a Buddha.
He was frequently found sitting as the Buddha sat - on Jefferson Rock, high above Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. He made his home, so to speak, in the thick woods along the Shenandoah River, and lived out his years, content with his scarce material necessities. He continued to serve as the secretly-faithless spiritual teacher to a generation of the wandering poor along the B&O, happy to be of whatever help it was that he was being.
Yet another writing prompt, "PLUMP," from my friends at STUDIO 30 PLUS.
One day in July 2012, [Maris] and I enjoyed a rare slow workday at our respective places of indentured servitude. That we were both so caught-up on the same day was especially unusual. When this happens, she often shares bits of internet ridiculousness (generally etiquette- or advice-site-related) with me as we email, I.M. or text back and forth.
[Maris] - Good morning. meh.
Me - Hi! meh. How goes it?
[M] - Wow. That's a huge disclaimer in my emails.
It goes eh. I try to maintain a positive attitude today, even though there are specific people who, when I IM them a question, instantly go offline.
Me - How rude! I guess there really is no avoiding people like that, what with so many people being like that, nowadays. *sigh*
I like you, though. And I'm glad you like your men plump, because guess what!
[M] - I really don't, but are you pleasantly plump?
And I feel like sending a mass email like, "WAS IT SOMETHING I SAID???" but then they would all go "Oh no, it's not you - it's us," but they would be totally lying. I won't, though.
Me - I'm sad that we are not the popular kids. And no, I wouldn't say that I'm pleasantly anything, but I shall try to hide in my work confinement crate and at least keep my unpleasantness to a minimum - and to myself.
[M] - If only I could think of something positive to say.
Me - Hmm... The sun is shining and we have jobs. There. Also, I am hungry but as yet have eaten nothing.
[M] - You sound very positive. You must have a plant near you!
I am not hungry, but feel like eating voraciously. I hear it tastes like chicken.
Me - Alas, I have no plant in my immediate vicinity. That would be uncomfortable, I bet.
I could go for some voraciously nachos.
[M] - Voracious knids!
Here:
"A few years back, one of my very best mates got married to a swell chap. Needless to say, the ceremony was beautiful."
Me - Needless to say.
Let's use that all day, every day. Needless to say, it will be fun.
[M] - Needless to say it will be great fun and it will catch on and everyone else will do it too!
Needless to say, I am not quite sure what the following sentence means:
"My poor deceased mother is roiling."
Needless to say, lol.
Me - Needless to say, mother was a pot of spaghetti sauce before she died.
[M] - Needless to say. Or a storm cloud.
Me - Needless to say, I'm listening to Ultravox.
[M] - Needless to say, you are funny. New Ultravox?
Okay, i KID YOU NOT:
"To my surprise, 2 weeks later I received an email from Jen -- a 'Save the Date; Invitation to Follow' e-card for May 14th, 2008. Needless to say, I was surprised."
Me - Sweet Zombie Jesus! Needless to say, I weep.
[M] - I feel like sending Flying Spaghetti Monster decals to all these people.
Needless to say, I think I might grow weary of typing needless to say in every sentence.
Me - FSM decals to all the needless to say people? Are they all from Kansas? NTS - LOL!
I'm so tired of typing NTS, I've gone acronym! DFH!
[M] - LOL! NTS!
fooooooood.......
Should I feel insulted by this sentiment? "...the kind of people that don't like kids and have really bad taste, but are inflexible. You know the type?"
Me - Yes, that is an insult, but if they believe that not having kids and having bad taste go together as a "type," then nothing they say is going to carry much weight. "You know the type - people who have kids and are tall..."
[M] - Exactly.
Here - two different posts:
"When my mother opened the invitation, she called me on the phone and said 'You have to see this for yourself.' Needless to say, I drove over immediately."
...and...
"Her gift to us was a card with $20 and an invitation to her wedding stuck in the card. Needless to say, we didn't attend her wedding and gave her back the $20."
Me - Oh, and the "BUT are inflexible" part boggles, too. Are the kid-hating, bad-taste people normally very flexible?
And that $20 refund one - that's so NOT needless to say. That's needed to say! Say WHY! WHY??? My day shall be ruined ("RU-eend"), thinking about that one. Needless to say, if it weren't for my horse...**
[M] - Yes, needless to say, I don't think that I would be friends with the non-kid-hating flexible person with good taste. Do all people with children have good taste? Maybe they taste good with ketchup.
Horse. lol
Me - Word.
I think I feel a Needless To Say post coming on. Actually, that would a good name for an entire blog.
[M] - Can you make my [shadow] FB status "Needless to say, this is my status!" - [Maris]?
Needless to say, my stomach is growling.
Me - Done! And to your stomach, I say DFH - NTS.
** Refering to a Lewis Black bit wherein he overhears a young lady say "If it weren't for my horse, I wouldn't have spent that year in college."
