HUFFINGTON
11.11.12
NO WAY OUT
stay focused. Try to stay fed. Try
to get through the hours. Try to
keep looking for work without
dwelling on the particulars of a
situation that does not add up.
The state deposits his weekly
unemployment check onto his
debit card — $180, minus $65
for child support for his youngest daughter, who is about to turn
18. He pays $75 a week in rent. He
goes to the grocery to buy some
essentials — toothpaste, eggs, and
a beef roast that he plans to ration
to get through the week. Like that,
his balance is near zero.
“The grace of God is how I’m
making it,” he says. “It’s just rough.
When he rides the bus, he finds
himself studying the surroundings
for signs of his imprint, reminders of his labors. There is the recycling center where he used to
move boxes. There is the motel
he helped bring into existence by
dropping off the rebar.
“It gives you a sense of satisfaction, seeing what you helped
build,” he says. “You think, ‘I was
a part of that.’”
These days, Stinson feels a
gnawing sense of torpor. He sits in
his room watching television, the
choices limited since he dropped
cable to save money. “Gunsmoke.
Bonanza. I Love Lucy,” he says.
“Your old, wholesome, antenna
TV.” He flips through women’s
magazines that pile up in the
mailbox, the subscriptions of a
long-departed tenant.
“Sometimes, when you just sit
at home for long periods of time,
you get fatigued,” he says. “You
get bored. You do.”
He knows that his physical
health is key to staying ready to
work, but it’s hard to stay in shape
while he \