Michael Reed will keep on moving

The Nashville skyline is one of countless horizons Michael Reed has glimpsed over his 57 years.

“Me and a friend of mine who died two Octobers ago, she’d tell me, ‘Uh-oh!’ I’d say, ‘What?’ And she’d say ‘I feel a travelin’ comin’ on!’ We’d wind up hoppin’ Greyhounds and goin’ to Florida, Arkansas, Colorado, wherever. Knowin’ when we get there, we don’t know what’s gonna happen when we get there. We just know we’re there!”

Having traveled so much, Reed didn’t stay in town for the sights or the city life. He’s seen how neon signs and glass spires just don’t compare to the Colorado sun, hanging over mountains shaggy with silver snowfall.

“It’s beautiful. When they get a snow, oh God, it’s just beautiful. Solid white snow.”
Despite missing the places he’s been, Reed has lived in Nashville for the last 15 years for a reason: its people.

“[You meet] all sorts! Good people, bad people. All sorts of people you’ll meet. Most of ‘em are good people. That’s how I first got started: I met someone who was sellin’ [about 10 years ago] and he brought me up here to sign up.”

Reed found selling The Contributor an intuitive, natural fit — one which allowed him to secure a little extra income and stay in touch with the community around him.

“People have been good to me over the years,” Reed recalled. “One time over in Bellevue, a woman stopped, she took me to Walmart, got me a shirt, pants, a bag of drawers, a bag of socks, put me up in a hotel for a week!”

It’s the members of that community, whether a stranger in Bellevue or his girlfriend of three months, Tammy, who give him the support he needs to keep going, he said.

You might know Reed by his cowboy hat, the hearty sincerity of his laugh, or even by his wrestling name, “Mad Dog” — but he’s lived on the streets for years, and it’s a continuous fight for survival.
“[The heat] makes it rough. Very hard. It’s hard, but I’m tryin’.”

Life between encampments and shelters is never easy, and Reed has a trove of stories from his time on the streets. Shows of generosity are a brief refuge, but that doesn’t change the systems underpinning Reed’s struggles.

He recalled a time when a dimebag of marijuana was found outside his tent at a homeless encampment, and he was arrested for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I had nothin’ to do with it, I explained it to [the police officer who took me in] … he teared up and started crying. He didn’t want to arrest me, but he had to. He had done run my name. I told him, ‘it’s all good!’ I had to do a four-day drug class over it,” Reed explained with warm laughter. “Cost me $25 a day. It’s senseless.”

Reed’s positivity is radiant, but no coincidence — he’s been fighting and dreaming since a young age, back when he yearned to play college football for the Tennessee Vols.

“I love football … oh God, ever since I was a kid, I grew up playin’!”

Studying his favorite players on the Colts and the 49ers, Reed learned the value of fundamental-based play and developed a lifelong love for the sport.

“[Peyton Manning] didn’t make them long yard passes. Little 5, 10-yard zips. That’s all it takes! A 5, 10-yard pass, keep things movin’. It don’t take a big pass,” Reed laughed. “I never did get to play any college ball. I had mental problems, I never would have been able to make the grades … I’d done good to keep my grades up in high school.”

Those ambitions lay dormant for decades. Now, Reed dreams of a stable home. He’s found temporary havens over the years, but he’s yet to find a permanent roof overhead.

“I would have somewhere to live, somethin’ would happen, and I’d come back … I’ve got to have somethin’. I can’t do another winter and summer like this. I just can’t.”

For now, Reed takes it a day at a time — short passes, 10-yard zips, keeping things moving.
“Long as things are movin’, you’re doing good. You’re gettin’ the job done.”