COMING FULL CIRCLE: TWO STORIES FROM PISTOL ALLEY
Since the nation’s economy went south, the Home Van is serving an
increasingly broad demographic of people. In the early years we were a mission
to chronically homeless people. That first winter we were out delivering
blankets one night and one of our friends told us that there were a group of
people living in a house in Pistol Alley who had no utilities, no food and no
blankets. Pistol Alley runs behind North Main Street Publix, so we headed over
there. The scene we found was unlike anything I’ve ever encountered before or
since. Some twenty to thirty people were milling around in front of a small
house and in the backyard, where someone had built a bonfire. These people were
so intoxicated that they were staggering in blind circles, some babbling and
some screaming. Their eyes were entirely blank – no one home behind those eyes
- their souls in hiding. It is the first and only time in the course of doing
this work that I have felt scared. We did talk to a couple of people who hadn’t
quite reached that point, a man named Bill, and Margaret, a woman with two black
eyes and a cut on her forehead. We left the food and blankets and took off. I
decided that we could help these folks but we would never go there again except
during the morning hours.
One Sunday morning Rod and I went over to check on this group and Bill came
out of the house. He asked us if we would drain some antifreeze from the van
and give it to him because he really needed a drink, which of course we did not
do. There are people who think alcoholism isn’t really a disease, but some kind
of choice or lack of character. They’re wrong.
Over the years since I would see Bill occasionally, usually panhandling in
the Publix parking lot. He was a quiet, gentle person, and he had more friends
than I knew. The women who tend the north Main Street cat colony counted him as
a friend, and it was one of them who let me know that Bill had died. The next
weekend we went down to the small Tent City on the north end of Main Street to
have a little service for Bill. I brought some food to give the folks down
there in memory of Bill. We were joined by one of his friends, a man who used
to work construction until the recession hit. We shared the good memories we
had of Bill, and our gratitude that his troubles were finally over. Then his
friend said a prayer of blessing, for Bill, for the homeless people, and for all
people. This prayer came from such a deep place within him that I felt the
presence of God there in that little gathering to remember Bill.
Margaret we came to know much better, because she moved to South Camp and
became partners with our beloved friend Jerry, a Vietnam vet and Native American
who was a leader in the homeless community of the time. Jerry loved to cook.
He dumpster-dived behind supermarkets, bringing home soup vegetables and frozen
meat that was close to the expiration date. He’d make big pots of food and
invite everyone to eat. He also treasured his Native American heritage. He
taught other homeless people how to survive in the woods, and when Jerry left
this world, several of his friends said they owed their very survival to the
help he gave them. Jerry had severe PTSD, and the drinking problem that often
goes with that, but it was not at the level of Pistol Alley. Margaret had moved
up in the world, and gotten onto a path that would eventually lead to her
deliverance from homelessness. Margaret loved Jerry and when Jerry became
terminally ill, she wanted to be his caregiver and to be able to visit him at
the hospital, so she struggled heroically to get control of her drinking. The
Christian Bible says, “With love all things are possible, and there is nothing
that is not possible.” That verse comes to mind sometimes, because I can think
of more than one person whose path out of homelessness opened up because there
was another being – a human or an animal – that they truly loved and were
determined to care for. Maybe that’s what that verse means, in practice. I
would suspect that it is. Margaret’s struggle had its victories and its
failures, but overall she succeeded in doing right by Jerry during his time of
leaving this world.
It was of course a very different story after Jerry died. She was in
danger of losing the little section 8 apartment that she and Jerry had shared
and drinking didn’t help. Joe and Liz took on the endless task of keeping
Margaret in housing and getting her into new housing after she was evicted from
the old housing. Joe, in particular, is a kind of Clarence Darrow of getting
difficult people into housing and keeping them there. One time Margaret was
evicted from Bailey Village because she would get drunk and run around the
courtyard hugging people. It was always something. Eventually, though,
Margaret stabilized. It is almost impossible for people with severe problems to
become stabilized while they are homeless. Having a home very often leads to a
good outcome. Margaret now has a nice little apartment off Tower Road. Before
drink took over her life, she had been a fabric artist, and she went back to
this pursuit. The walls of her apartment, which she keeps immaculately clean,
are covered with tapestries and dream catchers. She has a few cats. She still
experiences bumps in the road, and is high maintenance, but consider the trip
she has made – from Pistol Alley to this warm, little home.
Pistol Alley was a scene from Dante’s Inferno. I feel privileged to have
seen it and to know these stories of deliverance. At one time, when I was
particularly steeped in “literachoor,” I hypothesized to my self that all of
life is like a Tarot layout, and all stories go back to Dante and to the
Greeks. I don’t have all that sorted out like I did when I was younger and
knew so much more, but I still think there’s some truth to it.
MYLARS, TENTS AND TARPS
These are the items we need most. This is a winter like no other, because
so many people are living outside. May it be the last one.
Love and peace to everyone,
arupa
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Home Van
needs tents, tarps, bottled water, Vienna sausages, creamy peanut butter, jelly,
candles, white tube socks, batteries, and games. Call
352-372-4825 to arrange for drop off. Financial
donations to the Home Van should be in the form of checks made out to Citizens
for Social Justice, Inc., earmarked for the Home Van, and mailed to 307 SE 6th
Street, Gainesville, FL 32601, or can be made online at
http://homevan.blogspot.com/
THE HOMEVAN IS A PROJECT OF CITIZENS FOR SOCIAL
JUSTICE, INC. (FDACSREGISTRATION #CH35643). A COPY OF THE OFFICIAL REGISTRATION
AND FINANCIAL INFORMATION MAY BE OBTAINED FROM THE DIVISION OF CONSUMER SERVICES
BY CALLING TOLL-FREE (800-435-7352) WITHIN
THE STATE.REGISTRATION DOES NOT IMPLY ENDORSEMENT, APPROVAL, OR RECOMMENDATION
BY THE
STATE.
