When Girl Hobo was traveling in the Southeastern United States, she found herself being drawn to the coastal areas, where the beauty of the shorelines, marshlands and waterways captured her love of the sea. Memories came flooding back to her about her former life as a real girl, something that she couldn’t put her finger on. Perhaps she had spent time with her family at the ocean; flashbacks of plastic sand toys and laughing gulls brought tears to her eyes, and she sought solace with other hobos who were traveling throughout the Golden Isles of Georgia, headed to the First Coast of Florida.

Hobos who are lucky enough to escape the cold temperatures of the north can find relaxation and friendship in the south. Entire hobo communities are hidden secretly along the shorelines, located under bridges, beside railroad tracks, tucked into woodlands of live oak trees draped with Spanish moss, and sometimes even in deserted orange groves. Girl Hobo was careful to make mental notes of all the hobo symbols she found etched into railroad ties and rocks, that would help her find food, water and companionship with other hobos, especially “rag muffins paddin’ the hoof’, which is hobo language for child hobos like herself.

Many of the hobos talked about a place called Amelia Island, Florida, located nearby St. Marys, Georgia, across an expanse of water called the Amelia River. There the hobos told her she would find good food to eat – lots of fresh shrimp and fish, plus clean, sandy beaches to play on. This all sounded quite nice to Girl Hobo, who loved the sun and hoped to meet some rag muffins like herself. The older hobos warned, however, that the island wasn’t overly fond of hobos and it would be important to keep her identity hidden. That meant no panhandling in the town, and camping only at secret hobo locations. Girl Hobo’s magic bindle, which is a bandana tied on a stick that holds all her worldly possessions, is a dead giveaway that she is a hobo. She would have to hide it away if she went into town or played on the beaches with other normal children.

When Girl Hobo arrived on Amelia Island, she spent a great deal of time walking the railroad tracks that would take her into the town of Fernandina Beach, where a hobo encampment was located near the harbor, right beside the tracks and behind an span of banana trees. She passed a large mill of sorts, that appeared to make wood pulp and paper out of trees – the smell from the mill hung heavily in the muggy air, for it was quite hot and humid that day. When she reached the camp, she noticed that there were other hobos already there, and to her delight she realized that they were three other rag muffins, just like herself – one older boy reading an old newspaper, and two smaller children playing with an inner tube in the water. Skipping happily up to her newly found friends, Girl Hobo introduced herself immediately.

“Hello there! I’m Girl Hobo! It’s so nice to see some hobo kids for a change!”

The older boy looked up and smiled at her. “Hi there, Girl Hobo, my name is Jaloop. These two little ones are named Criss and Cross, ‘cause I found them at an intersection with a big, white criss cross painted on the road. They seemed happy enough with those names, so that’s who they are.” Criss and Cross seemed oblivious to Girl Hobo, as they were arguing and fighting over the inner tube.

“Jaloop is a very unusual name,” said Girl Hobo. “Where did you get that name?”

Jaloop shrugged his shoulders. “Jaloop means “a person who says stupid things or acts really stupid.” My parents called me that. My real name is John, but I just go by Jaloop, since that’s what I’m used to.

“That’s a terrible thing for parents to do,” said Girl Hobo. “You don’t seem stupid.”

Jaloop laughed. “Yeah, well, my mom and dad weren’t very nice people. That’s why I ran away when I was very young. I’m sure not stupid. In fact I’m really smart. I taught myself how to read and write and I’m good with numbers. I learned a lot from the older hobos.”

“How old are you?” asked Girl Hobo.

“I think about thirteen or fourteen. I’m pretty tall for my age. Lots of folks think I’m older.”
Jaloop was right about that. He was tall and lanky, with dark brown, wavy hair, watery grey eyes and a few freckles across his nose. His clothes were dirty, and his pants were torn, but Girl Hobo could see that his hands and face were clean and he took care to brush his teeth. The two little rag muffins that Jaloop was traveling with looked slovenly and unkempt. Even as they played in the river with the inner tube, the water didn’t seem to wash off any of their caked-on dirt, and their blonde hair was matted and tangled. Criss and Cross appeared to be about four or five years old, a girl and a boy, and Girl Hobo could see that they were a handful of mischief.

“It seems like it would be a lot of work to take care of those two,” said Girl Hobo.

Jaloop sighed. “Yeah, it really is. We haven’t had any food in a couple of days, and that’s when they fight a lot, because they’re hungry and ornery.”

“I have some trail mix in my bindle,” exclaimed Girl Hobo. “Let’s have some of that for lunch!”

Criss and Cross heard Girl Hobo talking about trail mix and came running out of the water, clamoring for anything to fill up their empty tummies. Girl Hobo distributed her secret trail mix to the rag muffins, and as they ate, she could see that the children were beginning to calm down. Jaloop smiled happily. “Girl Hobo, this really hits the spot! Let’s get some fresh water out of that bucket. It’s really hot and sunny today. We try to drink a lot of water, even if we don’t have much food.”

“Where did you get the water?” asked Girl Hobo.

“From a man who lives behind the banana trees,” explained Jaloop. “See this hobo symbol here on this rock. It’s a squiggly line. That means there’s fresh water. So I took a bucket from the camp and went searching for water. I walked up yonder and came to a house, and there’s a nice man living there named Mr. Greg. He gives water to the hobos and feeds all the wild cats in the neighborhood. He’s a kindly gentleman and a real friend to the hobos. Never tells anyone in town that this camp is here.”

“Cats! Cats! Cats!” hollered Cross, pointing past the banana trees.

“No way, Cross,” said Jaloop. “Those cats don’t want to play with you. They’re wild and hungry.” He chuckles a bit. “When Criss and Cross saw all those cats at Mr. Greg’s house, they tried to play with them. You should have seen those cats howling and spitting. What a sight!”

Girl Hobo laughed. She felt safe and happy to be in this place with her new friends, but was worried about what they should be doing to get some food for dinner that night. “You know Jaloop, I have some good corn grits in my bindle, said Girl Hobo. “I got them from an old hobo when I was on a train from Georgia. We could eat them, but they take a long time to cook and I don’t see much dry wood around here.”

“Gee, we love grits,” said Jaloop. “They’re mighty filling. Let’s see if we can find some wood for a fire later.”

Girl Hobo and Jaloop scoured the beach and banana stand but there wasn’t much downed wood to be found, and as they were trying to figure out how to start a fire, an idea came to Girl Hobo. “Looky there, Jaloop! The inner tube! I have an idea how we can cook the grits in the sun. The inner tube will be our oven!”

“Are you crazy?” asked Jaloop. “How can we cook with an inner tube?”

“I saw something at an Earth Day festival, once, where people were learning how to use the sun’s rays to cook their food. We can do the same thing. It’s so hot and sunny, we can get these grits cooked up just in time for dinner. First we need to get a cooking pot and a large piece of glass.”

Jaloop procured a cast iron pot from a pile of junk at the camp. Then he foraged in some trash nearby the camp and found a piece of glass from an old car windshield. “That’s perfect!” said Girl Hobo. Curious about what Girl Hobo was going to do with their inner tube, Criss and Cross stood glued to her instructions. “See here,” Girl Hobo explained, “The inner tube is black and hot because it absorbs the heat from the sun. The cooking pot is black also, and it’s hot from sitting in the sun. We’re going to put the pot in the center of the inner tube, then put some fresh water and grits in there. Then put the top on the pot. Then we place the glass on top of the inner tube, and the glass will magnify the heat of the sun, and voila, we have a solar oven!”

“Well I’ll be danged!” laughed Jaloop. “You’re pretty smart, Girl Hobo. I never heard of a solar oven, but I would love to have some of those grits for dinner, so I hope your theory works!”

“As long as it stays sunny it should work just fine. It could actually get up to over 300 degrees in there, so you two shouldn’t touch the oven, okay?” Girl Hobo looked sternly at Criss and Cross.

“Guess that’s enough swimming for today!” teased Jaloop, who could see the two rag muffins staring longingly at their inner tube. “I think Girl Hobo’s idea is pretty cool. After the grits are cooked you can have your inner tube back, okay?” Criss and Cross looked happier then, and Jaloop realized he would have to find something for them to do that afternoon. “Come on, y’all, let’s take a walk into town and look at the shrimp boats in the harbor. Maybe we’ll find some money and get us all an ice cream!”

“Do you think you should mention ice cream? We’d never find enough money for that!” exclaimed Girl Hobo.

“Well, Girl Hobo, I have a little trick up my sleeve, just as smart as your solar oven.” Jaloop smiled mysteriously. “For your information, I’ve been sneaking over to the Palace Saloon every afternoon and evening, and collecting coins that people drop out of their pockets on the sidewalk, after they’ve been drinking beer. I only have seventy-five cents, but if we find one more quarter, we can buy one child-size ice cream cone and we can all share.”

Girl Hobo laughed. “That’s so funny! What a great idea! It’s clever how you figured out the best place to find money!”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at seeing shiny objects. Guess that’s what hunger and being a hobo is all about.” Jaloop stood up from his place near the oven. “Let’s all go for a stroll, and remember, this town doesn’t like hobos much, so let’s try to act natural and stay together.”
Girl Hobo, Jaloop, Criss and Cross walked a half mile down the shoreline until they reached the harbor and marina of Fernandina Beach. Girl Hobo heard tell of the fancy boats and downtown area but didn’t realize how pretty it was. “Wow!” said Girl Hobo. “What a nice town! Look at those boats – some are so big. What are those wooden boats over there with all those nets and things?”

“Those are shrimp boats,” said Jaloop, knowingly. “This here town is the birthplace of the modern shrimping industry. I heard from other hobos that the shimping isn’t so good anymore, but there’s lots of folks who still do it for a living.”

“Let’s go look at them,” said Girl Hobo. “I want to see a shrimp boat close up.” She grabbed the rag muffins’ hands and instructed them to keep close and not fall off the dock. The four hobos made their way to the north side of the marina until they came to several shrimp boats. At one boat, a man was loading some boxes aboard. He looked up at the children and smiled.

“So what do we have here? Some rag muffins, perhaps?” The man laughed loudly.
Girl Hobo and Jaloop looked at each other in alarm. How did this man know they were rag muffins? Did they stand out from everyone else?”

“Don’t look so scared,” said the man. “I’m not going to tell anybody about you. I was a hobo once myself – that’s how I picked you out.”

Girl Hobo sighed with relief. “Whew. We heard that the town doesn’t like hobos so we wanted to blend in. I even left my magic bindle at the camp so nobody would bother us.”
“Well,” said the man. “You hardly look like tourists. If you’re going to come into town you could at least clean up those little ones. They’re filthy!”

Jaloop looked sadly at Criss & Cross as if he had never seen them before. They were pretty dirty – and when he looked down at his own clothes and shoes he realized that any of the townspeople would realize in a skinny minute that they were all hobos, indeed.
“Hey, don’t look so unhappy, boy,” said the man. “What are your names? Where are you traveling?”

“This here is Girl Hobo, I’m Jaloop and the little rag muffins are Criss and Cross. We all came down to the harbor because we wanted to see a shrimp boat. What’s your name?”
“Well, Jaloop, I think you’re in luck because this is a real shrimp boat and my name is Captain Roy, and I’m captain of this shrimp boat.”

“Wow,” said Girl Hobo. “A real shrimp boat captain! You must have had many adventures. I’ve been traveling for some time, but Jaloop has been a hobo for many years. He found the rag muffins Criss and Cross along the way. We’re just getting to know each other.”

“You all look like a bunch scarecrows, I do declare,” said Captain Roy, disapprovingly. “You all have enough to eat?”

“We have trail mix in my magic bindle and we have grits cooking back at camp,” said Girl Hobo.

“What? Just grits? Not shrimp and grits? That’s what everybody eats here in town!” Captain Roy had a twinkle in his eyes.

“You know we wouldn’t have money to buy any shrimp,” said Jaloop. “We’re hoping to share an ice cream this afternoon, after we find another quarter. We like plain grits just fine.” Jaloop seemed a bit insulted, as it appeared that he should be a better provider for the band of rag muffins.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” said Captain Roy, his face softening. “Tell you what, I gotta deal for you. You kids come on the boat and help me swab the deck, clean the head and galley, and I’ll give you all ice cream – AND a pound of shrimp to go with your grits.” Captain Roy was laughing now. “Do you know that ice cream is my favorite thing in the world? Besides shrimp, that is!”

“That’s right nice of you, Captain Roy,” said Girl Hobo. “We’d love to help you on your boat. And since we’re not really suitably dressed for a trip to town, I think this is a great way to spend the afternoon. What do you think, rag muffins? Do you want to see a real shrimp boat up close?”

Criss & Cross giggled, and holding each other’s hands, the four hobos boarded the shrimp boat, ready to get to work.

It was a long hard afternoon on the shrimp boat, and after three hours of cleaning and listening to Captain Roy’s stories about shrimping, the rag muffins were tired and sunburned. Criss and Cross were yawning, and Jaloop noticed that Girl Hobo was struggling to keep her good nature and wit. Captain Roy saw this, as well, and declared that the children had done enough work. He brought out a whole gallon of chocolate ice cream from the galley, along with five spoons, and the group dug into it ravenously, including Captain Roy, with Criss & Cross licking the carton clean.

“Looks like y’all are going to sleep well tonight,” declared Captain Roy. “I really do appreciate you helping me on the boat this afternoon. And you know, it was good to have the company. I don’t get to spend much time with young folks.”

Jaloop smiled at Captain Roy. “We had a great time, Sir. It was nice of you to give us the ice cream. We haven’t had any on a long time!”

Captain Roy dug into one of his coolers and brought out a bag of shrimp.“These here are wild caught shrimp, the best in the world. You take this whole bag- they’ve already been cleaned – you dump them into your grits then put the cover back on the pot and in four minutes you’ll have the best dinner in your life.”

“Thank you, Captain Roy,” said Girl Hobo appreciatively. “We can’t wait to see how our grits came out. It was really nice to meet you. Maybe we can come back another day and help you again.”

Captain Roy smiled. “You do that, Girl Hobo. You are all welcome on my boat anytime.”

The four hobos left the boat and the harbor, then walked what seemed like a very long half mile to the hobo camp. When they came upon their solar oven, the glass was clouded with steam, which indicated that the grits had been cooking quite well. Jaloop carefully lifted the glass, and removed the pot cover. The grits were thick, yellow and bubbly. Girl Hobo added the bag of shrimp, then put the cover back on the pot and let it set for four minutes.

Even after eating a gallon of ice cream, the smell of fresh shrimp and grits brought out the appetites of the always-hungry rag muffins. The children washed their hands and faces, then sat around the pot with spoons, dipping out steaming grits. The shrimp were cooked to perfection, sweet and tender, and the four hobos ate every single bite. Girl Hobo then showed the group how to clean the old black pot with sand, and rinse it in the salt water. 

“This has been a great day, Girl Hobo!” said Jaloop. “I’m so tired and full that I think I’ll sleep like a baby tonight.” The two little ones were already starting to nod off, even though it was early evening, so Girl Hobo and Jaloop walked them over to the stand of banana trees, where they broke off giant leaves and place them on the ground for bedding.

A few drops of rain began to fall, very lightly, and the banana trees kept them dry as they laid down to sleep. Jaloop started to tell the children and Girl Hobo a story, but in minutes they were already asleep. That’s when the wild cats came from Mr. Greg’s yard and covered the sleeping children, purring and keeping them warm.

That night Girl Hobo dreamt that she was a shrimp boat captain, and sitting next to her was her first mate, Jaloop. She held the big wheel at the helm of the boat with determination and skill, as Jaloop entertained her with stories from the high seas. It was a happy dream, and everything was absolutely perfect – the sun was high in the indigo sky, the clouds, white and fluffy like cotton candy from the State Fair, the ocean was vast and inviting, and as Girl Hobo navigated her boat straightaway to the horizon, wild shrimp danced in the shiny, salty sea.

© 2009, Karen Miller. All rights reserved.