I met a hobo today. Actually, I met him in May and I've seen him every couple of days since. It was just that today, I learned he was a hobo.
My hobo friend, his name is John, told me the word hobo was borne out of the post-civil war era. When the war ended, soldiers were released and left to their own devices. Many picked up a hoe and traveled the rails, from farm to farm, offering to work for a meal and a small stipend.
That desire to work for his keep elevated the hobo -- or "hoe boy" -- from his counterpart, the tramp, who was considered too lazy to work.
One hundred miles to the south this weekend, Britt, Iowa, hosts the National Hobo Convention. Hobos from around the country gather with other hobos, as if returning to a family homestead. John will be there. He promises to bring me a brochure so I can learn more about hobos and the hobo lifestyle.
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2 comments:
Wonder if your new friend John knows this song: http://www.archeophone.org/cylindres_textes/who_said_bum.php
I thought about sharing a bum song from my Great Uncles, but none came to mind. Interesting sidenote: When I shared the story of the other "John" running away at 13 to ride the rails, my hobo friend teared up. There's a story there, no doubt.
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