Flint

I got my first no for the trip in Flint, Michigan. There’s no real surprise here. I’ve found that the likelihood of someone talking with you in a city is inversely proportional to the number of people in the city. Flint is the largest stop on my journey so far, over 100,000 people. So no surprises that someone doesn’t want to talk here. It’s a defense mechanism for living in such close proximity to so many people. “I’m just trying to enjoy a little time to myself” the stranger said. I get that. It’s a lot to be surrounded always by people. The next person I asked was hesitant. He says he doesn’t talk well anymore after his stroke. He smiles though and says he’ll answer questions anyway.

This is Kevin Johnson: Marine vet, Flint native. I ask him my same set of questions and settle into the rhythm of his speech. He’s probably right that the stroke changes his speech pattern but he’s not hard to understand. A light pattern of repetition at the beginning of a thought is all that distinguishes his speech. 

“I I I used to be a security guard for a long time before I got my stroke. Now I’m disabled and can’t work. There was a woman recently when I went down to pay my phone bill that was asking for ¢25 and I couldn’t give it. I don’t have work myself. I need all my quarters. But she yelled at me for it. Made me sad for her. Made me sad for me, like I’m not in control of my own destiny, I can’t even spare a quarter for someone if I wanted to. 

It’s a funny thing, respect. I used to think respect was just in how people speak to you, how they treat you. But It’s more that that. People could just be having a bad day, that doesn’t mean anything. No, it’s more in how they let you be, how they allow you to make your own choices. I’m under guardianship now, I can’t do anything with my own stuff, the guardian gets to make all those choices for me. That doesn’t feel like respect to me.”

Initially, I was disappointed to be in Flint and have the interview here not center on the water crisis, which is still very much ongoing. I had filled my water that morning in a hotel; the common area had a 7 times filtration system for those who wanted to drink during their stay at the hotel. So as the conversation developed with Kevin, my gut reaction was that I wanted it to talk about water. But that’s the beauty of these. I don’t control where they go. And the course of our conversation reminded me of the complexity of cities and the people in them. Against defining, even catastrophic, events people are always juggling multiple balls in their life. Flint, and Kevin specifically, are of course dealing with lives entirely more multidimensional than the all-caps twitter reminder “FLINT STILL DOESN’T HAVE CLEAN WATER.” 

“I wish I had kids when I was younger” Kevin said in a surprising change of pace.

“I wish I had had kids. They would have taken care of me maybe. I wouldn’t have been alone to deal with all this, to deal with this guardianship, to get my healthcare, all that. But I’m 60 now, I think it’s a bit too late for all that. 

You know I go to church, I read the Bible, I do what I think is right. And they say money doesn’t mean nothing but you need money. You really do. People say to me ‘get a job’ and I wish I could. I used to wash dishes, buss tables, you know. I’d be happy to do any of that for some money these days, but I can’t with my disability. Instead, I got lucky last month and got a check from a settlement with Hearst Magazines. I got a check for $98. I needed that. That really made a difference for me. Not enough but it helped.

But you can’t help all that. Just gotta keep your head up. We gon’ make it. That’s what I keep telling myself. It’s how I know I’m still here and I have dignity.”

“Thank you for your questions” He said as I stood up to go. I’ve heard the line before. It always catches me off guard though. He was the one that shared himself with me.