Some years ago, a half-baked dream, more of a thought really, was to better appreciate what might be deemed the largely hidden underclass community. The plan was simple. Seek out random local homeless souls with the goal to better understand their respective life stories. In exchange for a dinner, each would relate their background, the circumstances of their current condition, and their overall take on America. With their permission, of course, their stories would then be compiled into a book.
The project was abandoned for several reasons, the principal one being the effort would come across as rather intrusive and condescending. Maybe others would be able to pull off such a delicate undertaking, but not me. The “tell” was in my choice of the title for the would-be book – The Bums Of Boulder.
Now, as it turns out, the very term “bum” may be less of a pejorative and more of an honorific, even an aspiration of sorts. Enter this most interesting man named A.M. Hickman, the author of our focus piece, The Dying Art Of Being A Bum. What a unique individual he is, this combination of a distinct writing talent along with his unabashed desire to be a vagrant, a refugee from upstate New York and the “civilized” world beyond.
He hitchhiked for years in a “search for America” as he “slept out in the open, ate from dumpsters, and brushed elbows with provincials and rustics of every flavor in many of America’s boondocks and backvelds,” all captured in sparkling prose. The highlight of my New Year’s Eve was reading his piece and then reading it again after experiencing an epiphany of sorts after the first go-around…
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