When I was in my thirties and even early forties I was a workaholic and my boss in Washington media never failed to tell me I was a great problem solver and backed his words with raises which I much appreciated. I was certain this was going to be my life until I retired when I might be in my eighties or so. At age 42, I fell ill and was put on the side lines. My unemployment ran out soon thereafter and, though the illness disabled me, I did not receive disability until four more years.
How did I live? It boiled down to being handed crumbs. I had to buy cars that friends were tradingin because of their fear of the car falling apart. I bought hand me down clothes from thrift shops and friends gave me some. I was taking care of a stray dog that I refused to give away. I finally had to take shelter in an abandoned warehouse in rural Mississippi that a friend kindly made available to me.
I rarely ate three meals a day, and the best of the meals were beans and rice. In retrospect I could have done better. I was a late bloomer to technology and the Internet, but I knew the principals of barter. I slowly learned the Internet and put my barter skills into effect. I traded
blogging, logos, cartoons, and everything else I was doing for other goods and services. It worked. Just barely but it worked. During that time, I built what I hoped to be my