Hobo Heritage

So I haven’t written in a while, namely due to the fact that I’ve been in the same location. But, I feel like I need to keep this thing going.. so I’m just going to babble for a bit.

So, a while back I was researching what I’m doing is actually called.. I found that I’m closest to being a hobo. Unlike tramps, who work only when they were forced to, and bums, who don’t work at all, hobos are workers who wandered.

At first I was completely turned off by the terminology, but upon closer review, I found out hobos were actually very clever and interesting people.

In fact, I even have a little Hobo heritage in my blood. There’s this story that my Grandpa used to tell about my Great Uncle Victor who was a Hobo. He only ate pickles and garlic, and people on the bus wouldn’t even want to sit or talk to Uncle Victor because of the smell of garlic that would radiate off of him. Anyways, late one night, he needed a place to stay so he snuck into an abandoned house and found a bed to sleep in. When he woke up in the morning he realized that he wasn’t alone in the bed…. there was a cold, dead body laying next to him… He politely called the police, and went on his way.

Now, with blood relatives like that… what do you expect from me?!

Anyways, there were a few things I learned about Hobos. First of all, there was a Hobo Code of Conduct. I was really interested in it until I came to the item that said: “Do not allow yourself to become a stupid drunk and set a bad example for locals’ treatment of other hobos.” Then I gave up..

Also, I found it interesting that they used to leave signs for each other so that when other Hobos arrived, they knew what kind of situation they were getting themselves into.


For about a day, I was fascinated with Hobos because they get a bad reputation, but in reality all they ever wanted was a little freedom and a free ride every now and then.