Nelson, 71, is homeless. He's missing several teeth and usually tucks his long hair beneath a baseball cap. A mattress in the back of a 1994 Dodge van that he parks in the Walmart parking lot on south Arizona Avenue is his sleeping quarters.
"I'm homeless by choice," Nelson said, pulling the van key from his pocket. "I used to have 10 keys; now there's just one . . . it's a good feeling."
In the four years he has lived this way, Nelson has befriended a decorated World War II veteran who works as a Walmart greeter. A library employee recently gave Nelson the name of a good auto mechanic because he needs some work done on "my unit," as he calls the van with peeling paint. Nelson showers at a west Chandler truck stop.
His daily routine begins around 6 a.m., when he wakes up on a mattress in the van. A walk across the Walmart parking lot brings him into the store where he buys a tomato, a banana and a newspaper. Then, Nelson then heads for an adjoining McDonald's for "one plain white biscuit, two grape jellies, a plastic knife and fork, a coffee and two creams."
After breakfast, Nelson drives a couple miles north to the library, where he passes the hours until lunchtime at Murphy's Law downtown, his most expensive meal of the day. "I have a BLT and a bowl of chili. It's $7.63 with tax, but it's worth it."
Murphy's Law employee Chelle Francisco said Nelson always sits at the end of the bar. "He is a really pleasant, happy guy who is fun to be around and tells cool stories. We all know what he wants for lunch."
For dinner, Nelson heads to Red White and Brew on south Gilbert Road "for the soup of the day and a cup of hot water, which is $3.82 with tax."
Before he chose homelessness, Nelson said he moved around the West, held plenty of low-paying jobs and fell out with a series of roommates. Carpet, dust and household chemicals aggravated his allergies, which he said are much better now. The advantages of living in a vehicle came to him in 1997, when he arrived, unemployed, in Bishop, Calif. There were maintenance jobs at a motel, but he continued to sleep in his car, using recently vacated motel rooms to wash up. It's quieter than living in an apartment, he said, and tinted windows afford him enough privacy "so people can't peer in at me."
When he started living in parking lots, Nelson said he decided he would visit every major city in Texas and as many museums as he could. He has done that. "I even saw Janis Joplin's car."
He feels comfortable at his two favorite Chandler spots but is less relaxed on the road because he knows a fender bender or encounter with law enforcement could cost him his living quarters and he doesn't always know the local rules about overnight parking. Some police officers and security guards have asked him to leave public-parking lots at night.
Nelson describes his routine when he sees a badge. He puts both hands on the dashboard and tells officers he has no weapons. "I always drive below the speed limit, I never drink and drive," Nelson said. A citation or arrest warrant would be costly and could send his van to an impound lot.
Chandler police spokesman Joe Favazzo said the department doesn't routinely confront homeless individuals but will respond to "suspicious-persons" calls from the public. Walmart spokeswoman Delia Garcia said the company allows overnight stays in store parking lots as long as that doesn't conflict with city regulations.
A few other homeless people hang out in the library and Nelson recognizes them. Assistant Library Manager Kris Sherman said libraries are meant to enhance lives and everyone is welcome as long as their behavior is not disruptive to other patrons. The staff gets to know the "regulars" like Nelson, she said, and there have been no problems.
Nelson talks at length about most parts of his current life but skips over his early years and relationships. He said his 48-year-old daughter is a university professor in Pennsylvania and 46-year-old son is a ceramic artist in Hawaii. He and their mother divorced 38 years ago, and he is estranged from his ex-wife and daughter. Nelson and his son, Robert Nelson Vogland, reconnected a few years ago, talk often and try to get together when they can. Pictures of the son's artwork decorate the van's windows.
Vogland creates tile murals for hotels and resorts around the world and said his father inspired his love of art. "When I was 5, I watched him doing his artwork. I saw him paint a building, photograph circuses," said Vogland, who was contacted by phone in Kaneohe, Hawaii. "Then, as an 8-year-old I saw his whole world fall apart. He lost his family."
Vogland, who took his mother's maiden name, said after his parents divorced, he saw little of his father for decades but yearned to reconnect. Also a musician, Vogland wrote a song about his dad called "Lost Man"; "I sang it hoping he'd come back into my life. I wanted to give him a chance and I wanted to be with him for the rest of his life."
Their connection restarted with calls once or twice a year. "I told him it would be nice to hear from him more often, that he could call me every day, and he started calling me every day," Vogland said. The son has brought his father to Hawaii for visits and is planning another one in the coming months. "He's definitely a lone wolf, and he chooses to be homeless. But my dad's a well-read person who knows what's right and wrong."
In a few weeks, Nelson will leave Chandler and head to Montana for the summer as he's done for the past four years. He lives off his $900 monthly Social Security checks. A dishwasher's job at a Montana resort brings in extra cash for necessities like car repairs, gas and food.
"I really don't have a lot of money. But I have a great life and I never get bored."
