When I emigrated to the United States from England three years ago in an attempt to salvage my first marriage, I arrived with a duffel bag and less than $500 to my name. I moved into the basement of a house belonging to a married couple who attended my wife’s church. They didn’t charge me rent, but would later begrudgingly accept it when I insisted. 13 days after I arrived, I managed to secure a customer service job in a local print shop, a temp-to-perm position that paid a little more than minimum wage.
Let's start this morning off with a feel-good story: A Boston homeless man named Glen James was honored at police headquarters for turning in a backpack he found that contained $2,400 in cash, $39,500 in traveler's checks, and a passport and various papers. The backpack ended up belonging to a Best Buy employee who worked at the mall (it remains a mystery why the employee was carrying around so much cash, and I'm very curious as to why and whether he offered any kind of reward to James after having his backpack returned to him). [via]
Tyler Street, Boston, Mass. $450 This place always smelled like chicken fingers, and we had an ex-con with gangrene in his ankle who slept on our couch. My entire stay—from the day my terrified mom dropped off my record collection to the unceremonious and not-entirely-explained eviction notice—was a depraved vacation between novelty shop jobs during that whole post-9/11-malaise phase we all went through.
An update on the story of Glen James, the homeless man in Boston who found a backpack with more than $40,000 in cash and travelers checks and turned it in to authorities: A fundraiser for James on GoFundMe raised more than $150,000, and the money is being given to James to pay for housing, medical care, and other bills. James's sister will be the fund's trustee.
When the cab driver dropped me off at my new home, he warned me about the neighborhood. "Oh, no, love, you don’t want to live here," he said. "It’s not safe."