For the average person the worry of having a warm place to sleep for the night or scrounging for an inch of food to ease the stinging pain of hunger is a nonexistent feeling.

Jim Kroy, 51, is a homeless man who lives his life on the streets of Bakersfield constantly worrying about where his next meal will come from or where he will lay his head next.

Six years ago, Kroy was living a completely different life as an oil fields worker.  Kroy lived in a small house on the eastside and tried his best to supply for his wife and two daughters in college. Kroy and wife, Sylvia, lived a life that wasn’t exactly the best, but average for a blue-collar workingman.

In 2006, Kroy took two massive blows. He was laid-off from his oil fields job followed with wife Sylvia diagnosed with terminal lung cancer.  This caused major friction and impacted not only their family, but their bills and Kroy’s health as well.

Four months later, Kroy’s wife lost her battle with cancer.  Kroy explained that it created a hole in his heart as well as in his wallet.  His house went into foreclosure and his car was repossessed after medical bills took up all his savings and leftover money.

“I turned to the bottle for help. Gin, whiskey, anything I could get my hands on,” said Kroy.

Kroy explained that he drank away all his sorrow and pain, which led to his two daughters and extended family cutting him off.

“My family wanted me to get help, but I don’t need help.  I like to drink, it’s what I do,” he said.

Kroy suddenly found himself alone, wifeless, without his children, hated by family members and homeless.

“I drink alcohol. Alcohol makes them hate me. My children hate me. It was the bottle or them. I chose the bottle,” said Kroy.

Kroy spends most of his time by the GET bus station downtown off of Chester Avenue with a sign reading, “Homeless and hungry. Spare some change?”

He accepts that this is the life he has and that he’s setup for himself, but he does what he can to stay alive.

“I collect cans for extra change and if it rains I sleep under a bridge. The weather controls where I sleep and where I go. I haven’t talked to my family in four years and I’m sure they don’t care.  Living this way isn’t what I wanted. But this is what I got.”