Laurie

The best thing about this project, and perhaps about life in general, is the Wow moment. The Wow moment is that rare instance when you feel like you have made an actual difference in someone's life. In that precious fleeting moment in time, life always seems to make a little more sense.

The Wow moment is a gift, and one that tends to evade us in everyday life.

A man named Laurie gave me that gift just last week.

Laurie is a "First Nation," basically Canada's version of "Native American." He comes from a heritage that is known as the Thompson Tribe, but he clarifies that "Thompson" is not the actual name.

"What is the tribe really called?"

"I could tell you," he says, grinning, "but you wouldn't be able to pronounce it."

"Try me."

"Nɬeʔképmx."

"Okay. You win."

Laurie laughs. He laughs a lot, which is truly remarkable given his circumstances.

I originally spot Laurie as I am leaving Vancouver. He is located by the freeway entrance heading East and he looks tired and cold. I decide that I could use some company on the long trek across British Colombia, so I pull over.

"Where are you headed?"

"Kamloops."

"Hop in."

Kamloops is a four hour drive from Vancouver, so Laurie and I have plenty of time to talk. Laurie is not shy about sharing his story.

Laurie almost grew up as an American citizen. His family briefly lived in Washington, but a five-year-old Laurie split his head open and required serious treatment, forcing the family back to Canada for medical care. Instead, he grew up in Merritt, a town about an hour West of Kamloops.

He is sixty-six years old. The better part of those years, forty to be exact, were spent working as a logger. As technology advanced, so did Laurie's skills, and he soon became accomplished felling trees with machinery. Unfortunately, logging jobs are not always plentiful, even in Canada, and Laurie often found himself driving hundreds of miles of icy roads from job to job.

It was not always easy to stay awake. In fact, it was often near impossible. Laurie had never been into drugs, but he had once dated a woman with a cocaine addiction. He had access to crack cocaine, and one day the need to stay awake on the dangerous roads trumped the need to avoid the dangers of drugs.

He took a McDonald's coffee stirrer, dabbed the end of it with a very small amount of cocaine, and swallowed it. It took hold quickly and kept him alert through a particularly long drive. The next drive, he used a little more. Then a little more. Before he knew it, he was addicted.

Three years into his addiction, the crack started taking over his life. It was no longer just a distraction, it was his reason for living. Laurie worked hard for decades to build up his reputation as a logger, and now his addiction was affecting his work. Sensing a disaster ahead, he stopped logging, hoping to return to his craft when he was once again able to faithfully execute his job properly.

"You have to stay true to your moral code, eh?"

It's a weird statement to hear from a crack addict, but it seems genuine and fitting with Laurie. He is a kind, gentle soul, even in the throws of withdrawal.

Three years after quitting work, he found himself homeless in Vancouver, roaming Hastings and Main for weeks on end, concerned with little more than his next hit. We bond over our experiences being homeless, though we both recognize the stark differences in our situations.

"Hastings and Main is Vancouver's Skid Row," he tells me. "Does Las Vegas have a Hastings and Main?"

"Las Vegas is one big Hastings and Main."

Laurie laughs again. He is feeling better than he has for quite some time. You see, Laurie decided two weeks ago that he had lived with his addiction long enough. He had several Wow moments come together at one time in his life and found that he couldn't avoid action any longer.

So he has been weaning himself off the drug. He has repaired his diet in an effort to get himself stronger. And he has taken action to get away from Hastings and Main. His goal is to find treatment in Kamloops, and he has focused his single-mindedness to this pursuit.

The first time Laurie tries to get out of his living Hell, he is stopped by transit authorities and sent back. The second time, he is caught hitchhiking by the police and sent back once again. This is his third effort to get out of town, and when I pick Laurie up, he has managed to stay away from cocaine for three days.

He has been battling several withdrawal symptoms, the worst being severe diarrhea. But he seems to have turned a corner for the better. His main concern now is for his friend back in Vancouver.

"He doesn't know I left. He's going to be worried. But I know he has the will to heal himself as well."

Laurie calls his friend "Cowboy," and his friend affectionately returns the favor by referring to Laurie as "Indian." Cowboy was recently hit by a car, and the crippling effects may leave him in line for a large settlement. Laurie prays that he will never get it.

When you're addicted to crack, money really is the root of all evil.

Cowboy is not alone in his handicap. Laurie speaks of an army of addicts, many of them crippled, and beat down, sent to wheelchairs by their addiction.

"You'd think it'd be a deterrent, eh? But no."

Laurie makes most of his money now "from the dumpsters," collecting metal and turning it in for profit. He once found a jacket by a dumpster and used it for warmth through the long winter night. It turned out to be a security guard jacket, and Laurie now has a criminal record for theft.

This is Laurie's light, breezy story he tells to disarm me. You don't come across a lot of humor when you've spent the past three years sleeping outside in cardboard boxes, but Laurie has managed to keep his sense of humor intact.

It is this ability, this presence of mind, which leads him to Kamloops, which compelled him to turn his life around, which led him to my van on this day.

Because Laurie is a man who appreciates a good Wow moment. And two weeks ago he had three of them.

First, while prowling around Skid Row, he formed a bond with a man that transcended normal human interaction. Laurie shared his soul and the man responded in kind.

"If money is power, then he had all the power a man could hope for. But crack cocaine brought him down."

The man wept, broken from years of abuse and spiritual neglect. Laurie was there to catch him with a knowing look and a warm embrace. The connection they shared touched Laurie deeply.

Another Wow moment came in the form of a near arrest. Laurie was snorting crack with an otherwise reputable woman. The woman was a nurse, and a good one at that.

"You know how sometimes you can just tell that someone is a good person?" Laurie offers. "I knew that she was a good person."

The police officer that found them seemed to agree. He let Laurie and the nurse go. But the nurse was hysterical. The brief moment when she thought she was going to be arrested was clearly the worst moment of her life. Laurie saw her as her life flashed before her eyes and he was taken aback by the despair in those eyes.

Ten minutes later, she was snorting a new batch in a nearby alley.

This is the power of crack cocaine, Laurie thought to himself.

Laurie's next Wow moment, and the final impetus for his search for help, came when another friend died. The man, weakened by his addiction, passed away from double pneumonia.

"He was trying to get help, but there was nothing there for him. He tried to help himself, but by the end, he was too weak."

Now, as I sit in my van, parked on a Kamloops cliff where I have recently interviewed my new friend, Laurie breaks a long but comfortable silence.

"You know, this experience means a lot to me. Please, tell my story. It means so much to me that my story is shared. If I can convince one kid who would have made a bad decision to go the other way, then I will have found some meaning of my own."

He pauses to reflect, then stares straight into my eyes.

"I think meeting you has reassured me that I am making the right decision. Thank you. Thank you for being here."

Wow.