Power of the People

Hello, my name is Thomas. I am a professional nomad. Mostly just a fancy way to say jobless and homeless or as I prefer “houseless”.

I have spent 12 months traveling the country. Out of all the things I have done this year the three weeks I volunteered in South East Texas helping people recover from hurricane Harvey is likely the most important. I befriended a judge while helping a boy’s troubled home, made family with a couple when I helped them demo and install new floors. The Cajun Navy took me in and allowed me to help the demo and deliver supplies to people. I met a great man in Port Arthur who is basically running things down there by taking care of his community. But unfortunately my brash behavior and head strong attitude got me black balled by the organization I sought to join. 

So after three weeks of doing all I can to help, I returned to Dallas to recover physically and mentally. The “warzone” looking area of Rose City, TX and the surrounding areas brought up things I had thought I under control. I have spent years trying to deny that I had PTSD from my deployment to Iraq but when I started to have nightmares that were a mixture of Iraq and hurricane related stuff. I was heartbroken to have to leave the area. But as many people kept telling me. “You got to take care of yourself first.” So I came to Dallas with hopes of getting a service connection for PTSD with VA. 

Well… I have made no progress on that because since then I have been focusing all my attention on helping a friend I met while helping The Cajun Navy with his goal of sending medical supplies and personnel, including his self, to Puerto Rico to give much need medical treatment to those effected by hurricane Maria. I have been using my Facebook page @House13oom to promote his cause and do fundraiseing to help him complete his mission. This brings me to the point of this blog… The power of the people. 

I was sitting in San Diego after completing a hitching journey from Canada to Mexico when Harvey hit. I called a buddy I served with and asked him to put money into my account so I could fly to Dallas. From there I got online and started searching for a ride to South East Texas. It took me a week but I had many strangers actively seeking me a ride and finally got a ride with a man leaving the Dallas area to go help do demo work. Through a contact with one group helping I was connected to a Judge and after bunking at his house for a night I helped a boy’s troubled home. Next, I walked city to city to try to volunteer my services for free but all I got was cash donations. I gave the money to homeless people I met along the way and did manage to find one couple to help, who I have already mentioned. Now, since my return to Dallas I have spent my time finding and sharing information on Puerto Rico. Mostly I find people with supplies that need delivered and I connect them with other people. I have made contacts all over the country and this has begun to lead into contacts world wide. For America has been hit with four hurricanes and recently a shooting in Las Vegas, but the whole world is in strife right now. Droughts in Kenya, flooding in India I believe, earthquakes in Mexico are just a few of the  horrible events that are still effecting billions of people around the world. 

As I sit comfortably at my mother’s house, watching the TV show “Wisdom of the Crowd” I was reminded of all the people that have helped me this year and in the recent weeks. Mind boggling is the logistics that are happening right now by people on computers or like me with a crummy phone and wifi. I am helping people in Puerto Rico by helping my friend complete his medical mission. I am connecting doctors with supplies and transport. I have no job and no money. I cannot donate to a fund but I can spread the awareness. I want to go help rebuild but without being part of a funded team it limits my effectiveness. If I can do such things with my limited resources and so many others doing the same… What would happen if we all took responsibility for the welfare of our neighbors, of those in need, those that cannot do for their selves? What would that world look like? To me it is a beautiful dream. One that is definitely possible if we could come together as one people. 

Below I will add a few of the organizations and fundraisers I feel deserve attention. There are hundreds of plights out there and we can overcome those if we just try. 

Thank you.

Medical Relief for Puerto Rico– My friends project and my main concern.


Austin nurse’s Puerto Rico aid pledge grows to major endeavor
Drought in Kenya

Cajun Relief– Non Profit out of Louisiana


OOH No Canada

OOH No Canada – The failed border crossing.

I depart Seattle after being a drunken ass at my friend Evans place for a week straight and make my way to Canada. I leave my friends apt very early and arrive, after many transfers, at the entrance to Canada. I smoke all my weed, ditch my pipe and put all knives in backpack for quick access by the border guards. Next,  I exchanged my cash for Canadian and approach the gate. Confused, I go to US entry where they half ass tell me how to enter Canada. I manage to find my way to the walk in terminal where I am summoned to the booth of a beautiful Canadian Border Patrol Officer where she plays 20 questions with me and a male officer takes up

position behind me.

“Any drugs, alcohol, weapons or anything illegal?”, the female officer asks.

“I have a two knives, a hatchet and a flask of rum in my bag. I smoked all my weed and ditched my pipe before coming to the checkpoint.”, I cheerfully respond.

“Why Canada?”, continuing her interrogation.

“Because I hear you have a beautiful country and good people.”

“Where you going?”

“I am going to Alaska to meet up with a friend, find work and do wilderness training.”

“Why Alaska?”

“My friend is a woman I am interested in.”

“Why Canada and have you ever been before?”

“First time in Canada and first time I am trying to use my passport.”

“Why did you get your passport?

Where you going in Alaska and why?

How much cash you got?

You cannot make it with that much.”, she declares.

(Not a question but a statement. Should of been a question because I can go far with none.)

The questions are fired quickly from here. “How are you to travel?


Job in the military?

Life goals?

Favorite color?(not really)

Where you coming from?

Where did you get the kilt?”

(Best and most intelligent question I have recieved on my kilt. )

During the questioning I almost lose myself to hit on a Super Sexy Canadian Border Control Agent. I barely manage to control myself and I let the, whoa, SSCBCA walk by. Never in my life had I wanted to be frisked so bad and never in my life did acting a fool at an international terminal look so appealing. I bark,  under my breath,  and refocus on my current SSCBCA. At this point the female officers asks me to empty my pockets. I laugh because of all the random things I carry in my pockets, of which my camo blouse has many. After emptying my pockets she has me shake out my waistband on my kilt.

More questions!

“How long you been traveling like this?

When you going for life goals?

Why Canada?

Health care?


Last job?

Future work?”, she bombards me even further with questions.

At this point, I understand I am failing her assessment. She gives me a sheet with all the things you need to enter Canada, of which I have none besides the passport. So I am denied entry into “Club Canada” because I did not meet the “dress code”. Mostly it seemed she was more concerned with me trying to get healthcare and steal jobs. Sounds a bit familiar!? Ha!

“You have a spoon and lighter, you know what that makes me think? “, said my SSCBCA.

“That you know I like cake a lot!

Do you guys got cake?”

“Canada has cake.”

“No, do you have cake right now? For me to eat now? That is why I carry a spoon.”

(Did not feel to go threw whole story as to why I carry a spoon.)

“May I go threw the bag?”

(like I got a choice)

“Help yourself.”, knowing full well the big mess that is about to be created when they open my bag.

The female officer instructs me to gather my pocket belongings as she attempts to pick up my bag. The female officer can barely budge my bag so the male officer picks it up and with many grunts he takes over to a table for inspection. They continue their questions, now tag teaming back and forth. These questions have less to do with security and more so just to pass the time. I tell them if my plan for House13oom, my hobo handyman business and the story behind each item I carry. It takes at least thirty minutes to rummage through my belongings and after a quick repack, the female officer gives me a piece of paper that says I “will be allowed to leave Canada.” The officer then escorts me out to the path to re enter US territory. A quick pass thru US customs office and I am back in Sumas, WA.

Sumas is a quaint little town with dirt cheap beer prices, beautiful hills and a snow capped mountain in the distance. I reacquire my pipe from near the abandoned fast food building I chilled at before attempting the border crossing. The building has a table and a wall blocking the view from the back, a great little nook to relax at. Depressed and confused, and I buy a couple beers and drink myself to sleep. The next day I repeat this twice, once in the morning and once at night, All the while racking my head to figure out what I want and how to do it.  I way all my options and toss them out as I find which works out more in long run. I think Work in Washington to get trip to Alaska, go to Wyoming for work or go to Oregon for hippy fest, sightseeing and work towards Alaska. Upon waking the next day, surprisingly not that hungover,  I am feeling great. I still know not what I am to do for long run, so I look at what I can do, which is to head back into Bellingham which is what has to happen either way.

I have a couple hours to use before the next bus so I go searching for cigarette butts. While on my search a gentleman, seeing my quest, gives me a pack. From there I go in search of Wi-Fi. I find it at a local museum but before I can log on a lady informs me that there is soup and food bank going on down the block at the library. Upon arriving I notice they are closing up. I am welcomed very well by the Lions Club that was hosting the event. They load me up on food, dig out the soup from the car and send me off with a big cup of soup. I return to the museum, eat the soup and begin my research for travel plans. While searching I get a video call from the woman I am trying to get to, a very nice surprise. ❤ I find it is fairly cheap to get to Portland, OR and I even got enough cash for it. So, plan as it stands,  Cannon Beach, OR is my next destination. Because a friend has been posting pictures of it, another friend said it is her favorite place in the world and incase I decide to go to the hippy gathering happening soon by Johns Day. I feel I will skip it because feds are all up in the area harassing people. As for a plan it is good enough to remove anxiety and clear my vision some.


~ Thomas Sonic13oom


Leaving my friends house in Seattle a day later then I planned but I picked a fine day. First time seeing the sun since I arrived in Seattle. I managed to fix a few things while at here so my friend hooked it up with some bus fair and karaoke. My bag blew up all over the place which is the standard. Dragging ass I finally got my shit together and got dropped off on my chosen bus route North to Bellingham, while trying to avoid downtown Seattle. While waiting for my bus I got some food and a fool ran at me. I looked left and right as this guy is fucking guy sprinting at me with what almost appears to be pistols in each hand but are merely phones. He continues his dash at me and all I can think is this is gonna hurt you more than it hurts me. Thankfully he stops a few yards short of me as I square off, read to take him down. He proceeds to stare at me issuing discomforting mumbles as spittle spews from his face. He boards a bus other than my intended and I am able to relax. I am making my way to Everett and prolly going to camp out there tonight when a curious thing happened at the Bellevue transit center. The bus I was intending to catch had a perfectly formed line waiting on the bus. They had to be the most organized group of strangers I have ever seen. A neat shuffle as they boarded the bus, nearly everyone paid with a card for speedy access.

I arrive in Everett an hour past the last bus I could catch north. So I quickly dead drop my night bag and proceed with my laptop bag, which will be my running day bag for now. I follow the little magnet in my head and make it to some WiFi to recon the area and chat with friends. With recon in hand I reacquire my night bag and search for my camp spot, one potential area identified from WiFi access. Location found, secure the area, bunker down. Kinda cold, almost able to not need sleeping bag. But, why even be chilly when you got a warm bag.

Woke up early, then woke up late. A little photo session of the environment I set myself to sleep last night. Then off to the bus terminal. As I walk the short distance down the hill I found myself stunned in awe of the snow capped mountain. Or is it a volcano? Because I thought there was to be one around here. I find that my bus only leaves mornings and afternoons so I must wait till their lunch break is over. I find a spot to repack my bags and put kilt in bag due to nice weather my balls sweats. I meet a few locals and we share of the daily bread. Offerings are passed while a pirate dominates the gathering. He is of much spirit but not one I care to share a ship with. I also meet a woman who tells me her story how her skate board hit her in the head after falling from it going thirty miles an hour. I fell in love with her instantly. Alas it is time to catch the next bus.

The bus ride to Mt. Vernon was a pleasant ride with beautiful views of hills and a brief glimpse of the snow capped mountain thing. I found out the bus goes further north then my current destination of Mt. Vernon. So I continue my ride to Chuckanut and pray I can quickly solicit the money to continue my journey to Bellingham. I arrive in Chuckanut station and meander down the street looking for WiFi or for a spot to fly a sign for my bus fare. Does not take me long to; A) get tired and B) find a spot. I find a nice corner where traffic backs up in front of a 7 Eleven. After grabbing some cardboard from the garbage,I make a sign the reads “Bus and Food”. Within thirty minutes I have a teriyaki dinner and the money for the bus. I hustle back to Chuckanut station to eat, wait on the bus, and give thanks.

Entering Bellingham was an interesting experience. The station is surrounded by niche stores and people with back packs. I quietly mosey around the block and follow the little magnet in my head. I quickly find manpower and labor ready and I also find WiFi to chat with friends and research the area. I log on to find I got a reply from a Rustic Resort I applied at. Nothing I can do about that so when concluding my research and chats I do a walk about downtown Bellingham. So far I like this place. It is sprinkling a little bit and there is a cool damp nip in the air, but otherwise a pleasant evening. I slowly hop from corner to corner, dropping my bags at each stop. I breath deeply of the fresh air and rejoice in the act of being. I get plenty of stares as I walk. Either my kilt, my load, or my Master Claw draws eyes and attention. I speak to only those who ask. I open my mind and heart to what is. After enjoying a guitarist busk for a while I figure I wasted enough time and began to seek camp. I search a while and my first chosen spot was a bust as I was quickly driven off by rain. I scoured a couple blocks before coming to the conclusion to do as the locals so I camped out in a vacant doorand got fairly wet, twice, but thankfully I got it working. I woke fairly dry to ladies with offering of coffee and information, both I wanted. I set out for a cigarette and a place to shave and charge phone. That mission was accomplished at the mission. At lunch I sought coffee for WiFi access to call the Rustic Resort in query of my potential employment. I feel I nail the phone interview and I schedule a Skype interview for the next morning. Wanting the best chance to get the job I decide to race back to Evans for my interview clothes.

While passing thru Everett I rushed to the restroom to expel the 5 coffees I had this morning. On my way out to catch the next bus south I run into the woman from the day before. Her name is Rachel Redland and I was thankful to make her acquaintance once more. Alas I am pressed for time so after some short pleasantries I am on my way. I make it back to Renton with plenty to time to spare. It is raining fairly well as I head to McDonald for some WiFi. I call Evan  to inform him I will be walking up his hill to his house and it should be about an hour till I make it. Three hours later I arrive at Evans after getting super lost and only making it there by locating a WiFi that gave me a temp access. I shower and go to sleep exhausted and happy.

I wake an hour before my interview and prepare as best I can. With positive thoughts comes positive action and the interview goes very well. By the end of the video call we were both laughing and joking and I get the job! I am very excited but I still get some negativity from friends and family. Ooh well, I cannot control their thoughts. I can only decide if I will continue to include them in my life. I have a couple days left in Washington and it has been a great start to my this Boom Adventure