When Howard Dean was governor of Vermont, he did some research and discovered that the cheapest and most effective way to deal with homelessness was to give people homes, a policy that he instituted in Vermont. My friend Pete, who was homeless in Gainesville for many years,
expressed the same theory in a letter to me, that I am going to share with you:
"It is noble to feed, clothe and provide other basic necessities to people in need to enable them to better cope with day to day survival. Food solves the hunger problem, clothing solves the nakedness problem, etc. But homeless people need homes. Simple, but it never seems to be dealt with on that level (or if not never, way too seldom).
"There are billions of government and charity dollars spent annually (much of it misspent) on 'poverty.' There is Habitat for Humanity for underemployed and/or overly 'prolific' families. They build these people permanent homes. There is enough tax and charitible money to provide permanent housing for most of the true local homeless. Some homeless have mental issues which would require more than just a livable home. A few people actually choose to be homeless (not many).
"Some of Gainesville's so-called homeless are truly 'transients' who are just passing through or taking a 'hobo vacation' from the winter up north. These people could be dealt with by being allowed to camp temporarily or staying at a transient shelter (such as St. Francis House or the Salvation Army). Many homeless are able-bodied or otherwise employable, have long-time connections to the community, but are prevented from 'pulling themselves up by their bootstraps' by impossible living conditions which keep them tired, infirm, unhygienic etc., and make them less capable. Permanent housing could fix this for many (I have done, a-hem, personal research in this).
"I'm all for feeding, clothing, giving sleeping bags, hygiene items, medical care etc. to homeless and needy folks. But, ONLY HOMES WILL SOLVE HOMELESSNESS. The 'powers that be' are extremely adverse and averse to GIVING people homes. But many
otherwise capable people are totally or greatly incapacitated by homelessness (a major hurdle is to convince the Powers that Be, that they won't be killing the 'Protestant work ethic'). It could definitely be done without spending more money. Just a different direction with the
same amount of funds. And there would be hope of people actually becoming more self-sufficient."
Sincerely,
Peter
Friday, April 10, 2009
Dumpster Diving....
We've been hearing through the grapevine that a group of campers across from the Food Lion on Hawthorne Road would like visits from the Home Van. Yesterday we stumbled around in the woods until we found them. Winston is living there, James who used to live in the woods off Pistol Alley, and a couple more. Winston's health is fragile and his friends have been very concerned about his nutrition. I will be able to bring him vitamins and energy drinks from the Food Bank now that we've found him. We will also be bringing them a shovel and big
plastic bags for camp beautification. This is a camp where people have a lot of problems, but also have a strong faith in God. We enjoyed talking with them. They have been surviving by dumpster diving behind the Food Lion.
The social needs of homeless people, and all of us, for that matter, can be just as important as food. These guys were eager to talk, share news, and hang out. As the days get longer we will do more of that. Yesterday we had to leave to get to other wooded areas before the sun disappeared.
Dumpster diving is actually a pretty good way to survive. Stores throw out enormous quantities of food that is at or near the date of expiration, most of it still wrapped. The guys who dumpster dive know when the store puts the food out and get it promptly. Johnny Leash, one of our homeless friends, has his own little outreach program of dumpster diving for food on behalf of an AIDS patient and an old veteran he knows, both of whom are housed but have little money for food. Robert the Vegan also dumpster dives on behalf of other people. In
San Antonio, Texas there is a a whole colony of voluntarily homeless people who dumpster dive on behalf of the chronically homeless population. I read about them on the Internet. They are mostly young folks who are making a statement - they believe our society has become so morally corrupt and wasteful that they have left it behind to live in solidarity with homeless people, reclaiming what society throws away. WAY TO GO!!!! As an old sixties kid, this just dazzles me. What if they gave a government and nobody came?
plastic bags for camp beautification. This is a camp where people have a lot of problems, but also have a strong faith in God. We enjoyed talking with them. They have been surviving by dumpster diving behind the Food Lion.
The social needs of homeless people, and all of us, for that matter, can be just as important as food. These guys were eager to talk, share news, and hang out. As the days get longer we will do more of that. Yesterday we had to leave to get to other wooded areas before the sun disappeared.
Dumpster diving is actually a pretty good way to survive. Stores throw out enormous quantities of food that is at or near the date of expiration, most of it still wrapped. The guys who dumpster dive know when the store puts the food out and get it promptly. Johnny Leash, one of our homeless friends, has his own little outreach program of dumpster diving for food on behalf of an AIDS patient and an old veteran he knows, both of whom are housed but have little money for food. Robert the Vegan also dumpster dives on behalf of other people. In
San Antonio, Texas there is a a whole colony of voluntarily homeless people who dumpster dive on behalf of the chronically homeless population. I read about them on the Internet. They are mostly young folks who are making a statement - they believe our society has become so morally corrupt and wasteful that they have left it behind to live in solidarity with homeless people, reclaiming what society throws away. WAY TO GO!!!! As an old sixties kid, this just dazzles me. What if they gave a government and nobody came?
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Goodby to Tony
Tony, a long time member of the Sweetwater Branch Community,
died yesterday morning at Shands Hospital, after suffering a stroke earlier
this month. He was in his forties and worked as a house painter. Tony was
also a singer-songwriter. Despite the personal demons that resulted in
chronic homelessness for Tony, he was an incredibly hard worker, right up
to the very onset of his final illness, and he never lost touch with his music. Tony
and his partner Dusty had one of the nicer camps at Sweetwater. They
had a large tent with a double bed, a coffee table, and a television hooked
up to a car battery. Outside Tony had created a patio area, under a tarp,
with shelves fastened to a tree, where they kept food, a clothesline, and
outside the patio, a fire pit for cooking. They had several cats. The last
few months of Tony's life they moved into a house trailer with friends.
A year ago I visited Tony and Dusty at their camp and Tony asked me if
he could audition to play music for the Home Van's third birthday party, which
was to take place at the Downtown Plaza. He brought a battered guitar out of
their tent and sang a song he had written himself, called "Hard Times," about
a family living in poverty. It was a beautiful song, in the tradition of Waylon
Jennings and Willie Nelson. Tony's scratchy, soulful voice did the song justice.
The day of our party, Tony brought his band with him, The Sweetwater Branch Boys,
made up mainly of homeless musicians. They played on stage and they
were good! It was a wonderful party.
died yesterday morning at Shands Hospital, after suffering a stroke earlier
this month. He was in his forties and worked as a house painter. Tony was
also a singer-songwriter. Despite the personal demons that resulted in
chronic homelessness for Tony, he was an incredibly hard worker, right up
to the very onset of his final illness, and he never lost touch with his music. Tony
and his partner Dusty had one of the nicer camps at Sweetwater. They
had a large tent with a double bed, a coffee table, and a television hooked
up to a car battery. Outside Tony had created a patio area, under a tarp,
with shelves fastened to a tree, where they kept food, a clothesline, and
outside the patio, a fire pit for cooking. They had several cats. The last
few months of Tony's life they moved into a house trailer with friends.
A year ago I visited Tony and Dusty at their camp and Tony asked me if
he could audition to play music for the Home Van's third birthday party, which
was to take place at the Downtown Plaza. He brought a battered guitar out of
their tent and sang a song he had written himself, called "Hard Times," about
a family living in poverty. It was a beautiful song, in the tradition of Waylon
Jennings and Willie Nelson. Tony's scratchy, soulful voice did the song justice.
The day of our party, Tony brought his band with him, The Sweetwater Branch Boys,
made up mainly of homeless musicians. They played on stage and they
were good! It was a wonderful party.
Bad Decisions
Many people wind up homeless because of bad decisions, such as marrying the wrong
person, taking the wrong job, or getting involved with drugs and alcohol. Enormous
numbers of housed people have also made bad decisions - in fact, the very same ones -
but had money and family support, or made these bad decisions in more forgiving times.
Paris Hilton and George Bush can make bad decisions, but poor people can't afford it.
One of our long-time friends, whom I will call Celeste, has a long history of bad decisions,
and has now entered the Bad Decisions Hall of Fame. After years of being homeless or
marginally housed, she received an insurance settlement for several thousand dollars.
We hoped that she would rent an apartment or buy a reliable car (Celeste works
steadily at low-paying jobs). Celeste bought two horses. She has been couch-surfing
while all her money goes to feeding and stabling these horses. She has now decided
to take the horses to Ocala, riding one while holding on to the other by a tether, and
live with them in the Ocala National Forest.
In a world of bad decisions, Celeste has raised the concept of bad decisons to the
level of epic poetry.
Something may happen to interrupt this plan. Celeste has an uncanny ability to land
on her feet, somehow, someway. I'll keep you posted.....
person, taking the wrong job, or getting involved with drugs and alcohol. Enormous
numbers of housed people have also made bad decisions - in fact, the very same ones -
but had money and family support, or made these bad decisions in more forgiving times.
Paris Hilton and George Bush can make bad decisions, but poor people can't afford it.
One of our long-time friends, whom I will call Celeste, has a long history of bad decisions,
and has now entered the Bad Decisions Hall of Fame. After years of being homeless or
marginally housed, she received an insurance settlement for several thousand dollars.
We hoped that she would rent an apartment or buy a reliable car (Celeste works
steadily at low-paying jobs). Celeste bought two horses. She has been couch-surfing
while all her money goes to feeding and stabling these horses. She has now decided
to take the horses to Ocala, riding one while holding on to the other by a tether, and
live with them in the Ocala National Forest.
In a world of bad decisions, Celeste has raised the concept of bad decisons to the
level of epic poetry.
Something may happen to interrupt this plan. Celeste has an uncanny ability to land
on her feet, somehow, someway. I'll keep you posted.....
Rainy Night Driveout
The serious rain began just as we were leaving. First we went up to Waldo Road
and found Marti waiting for us at the bus shelter across from the woods where she has her camp.
Marti's happiness and loving spirit make it a great pleasure to visit her. She has had a multitude of obstacles to deal with, beginning with a childhood of abuse, and has been homeless for most of her life. Marti trusts in God, loves people, and shares whatever she has with those who need it.
I would like to see Marti on some program such as Larry King Live, sharing her philosophy with a fearful world.
Then we went down to Williston Road. No one was waiting for us so we decided to walk up as far
as Dusty's camp. They thought we wouldn't come because of all the rain, but, as I explained,
we are the Home Van Idiots and a little rain doesn't stop us. Dusty and Tony have used a big
tarp and stakes to create an outdoor living room, with chairs and cats and guitars. We visited with Dusty, Tony and Olan and then moved on to the Tent City area to see Ray, Kevin and Wanda.
We had our usual fare last night - PB&Js, bananas, and boiled eggs, plus five gallons of wonderful
homemade chicken soup brought by Katie.
Then we went downtown where our folks were waiting for us in a covered area I won't mention, since it is frowned on for them (and us) to be there. We served dinner and had a great time schmoozing with people.
We almost didn't go to Lynch Park, since we rarely find people there when it's raining, but we decided to drive by and look. Thank goodness we did! There were a bunch of people standing under the overhang of the convenience store, and more people appeared as we were serving. I still had a bunch of dry t-shirts in the back, which folks were glad to get.
and found Marti waiting for us at the bus shelter across from the woods where she has her camp.
Marti's happiness and loving spirit make it a great pleasure to visit her. She has had a multitude of obstacles to deal with, beginning with a childhood of abuse, and has been homeless for most of her life. Marti trusts in God, loves people, and shares whatever she has with those who need it.
I would like to see Marti on some program such as Larry King Live, sharing her philosophy with a fearful world.
Then we went down to Williston Road. No one was waiting for us so we decided to walk up as far
as Dusty's camp. They thought we wouldn't come because of all the rain, but, as I explained,
we are the Home Van Idiots and a little rain doesn't stop us. Dusty and Tony have used a big
tarp and stakes to create an outdoor living room, with chairs and cats and guitars. We visited with Dusty, Tony and Olan and then moved on to the Tent City area to see Ray, Kevin and Wanda.
We had our usual fare last night - PB&Js, bananas, and boiled eggs, plus five gallons of wonderful
homemade chicken soup brought by Katie.
Then we went downtown where our folks were waiting for us in a covered area I won't mention, since it is frowned on for them (and us) to be there. We served dinner and had a great time schmoozing with people.
We almost didn't go to Lynch Park, since we rarely find people there when it's raining, but we decided to drive by and look. Thank goodness we did! There were a bunch of people standing under the overhang of the convenience store, and more people appeared as we were serving. I still had a bunch of dry t-shirts in the back, which folks were glad to get.
Primal Scenes...
On some driveouts we experience moments that will be etched in our memories forever. Last Tuesday wewere in Lynch Park. No one seemed to be around, so we were getting ready to leave when Terry came running across University Avenue and through the park, screaming over and over again, "I am so cold! I am so hungry!"
Terry is in her thirties. She is about 4' 10" tall and weighs maybe 70 pounds. Tuesday night she was wearing thin slacks and a tank top. She recognized our van. The old grey Home Van has been prowling the streets of Gainesville looking for peoplewho need us for more than four years. Before that, it was the Breakfast Brigade Van and went to the day labor agencies, bringing Kelli Brew's wonderful home-made bread, boiled eggs, and fresh fruit to the workers.
I first met Terry a few years ago when we were touring homeless campsites with Commissioner Long. She knew him because she used to work at a dry cleaners where he dropped off his clothes. Having a public officialout in the woods made Terry nervous, so she sang gospel songs, I think to comfort herself. At one point shestopped and said to me, "When I was 12, my mother died and my father broke me in."
Many homeless women, and virtually all women who work in prostitution, as Terry does, were the victims of long-term sexual abuse in childhood. Terry has multiple serious addictions. Still, she has a bright spirit, andwe are always glad to see her. Thank God, that night we had a warm turtle-neck sweater and a jacket, in her size. Often we are tapped out of warm clothing by the time we reach Lynch Park. I am grateful to the Home Van, to all of you who make it possible, and to all the brave and beautiful people we meet out in the parks and woods of Gainesville.
Terry is in her thirties. She is about 4' 10" tall and weighs maybe 70 pounds. Tuesday night she was wearing thin slacks and a tank top. She recognized our van. The old grey Home Van has been prowling the streets of Gainesville looking for peoplewho need us for more than four years. Before that, it was the Breakfast Brigade Van and went to the day labor agencies, bringing Kelli Brew's wonderful home-made bread, boiled eggs, and fresh fruit to the workers.
I first met Terry a few years ago when we were touring homeless campsites with Commissioner Long. She knew him because she used to work at a dry cleaners where he dropped off his clothes. Having a public officialout in the woods made Terry nervous, so she sang gospel songs, I think to comfort herself. At one point shestopped and said to me, "When I was 12, my mother died and my father broke me in."
Many homeless women, and virtually all women who work in prostitution, as Terry does, were the victims of long-term sexual abuse in childhood. Terry has multiple serious addictions. Still, she has a bright spirit, andwe are always glad to see her. Thank God, that night we had a warm turtle-neck sweater and a jacket, in her size. Often we are tapped out of warm clothing by the time we reach Lynch Park. I am grateful to the Home Van, to all of you who make it possible, and to all the brave and beautiful people we meet out in the parks and woods of Gainesville.
Hard Times....
KIT-KAT came by to see me yesterday. Many of you have seen her downtown, trundling along with a shopping cart or a little red wagon, with her dog and all her worldly possessions within it. Sh'mal moved her into an apartment shortly before Christmas - and then went to Walgreens and got her a string of Christmas lights! She looks great - so thoroughly coiffed and shiny and happy I barely recognized her. Miracles happen when people are able to live indoors.
These miracles are not easy to come by. Landlords who are renting out roach-infested, substandard apartments in crack neighborhoods require credit checks and background checks before they will rent to someone. You have to pass a drug test to get a job flipping burgers.
It wasn't always like this. People with problems used to be able to rent rooms and get casual employment, pretty much just by showing up for it. Then they could go to community mental health centers that took drop-ins and charged a sliding scale that started out as low as a dollar a session. Public and community colleges had very low tuition and troubled "youts" could even go to school while they put their lives back together.
During the 1960s a lot of lives needed to be put back together. The 1950s was a period of silence and repression in our country. Alchol and pill addiction, child abuse and domestic battery took place behind closed doors while nearly everyone looked the other way and pretended it wasn't happening. A friend of mine once told me a story that is emblazoned on my brain forever, because it so typifies the era I grew up in. Her father was an alcoholic. One day he was passed out on the couch in the formal "parlor" where guests were entertained, just at the time the
family minister was due to come by for his weekly, 20-minute pastoral call. Her mother threw a couch cover over her father and had all the children sit on top of him, in a row, during the reverend's visit. The reverend may or may not have been taken in by this ruse, but if he wasn't he never said anything. That's how family problems were handled in the 1950s.
Little wonder that the teenagers and young adults of the 1960s turned the world upside down in our desire to "let it all hang out." The safety net we needed to get us through these years was in place. Now it isn't. If you have addictions, mental illness, emotional problems, you better have money or a family that will put up with you, or you are going to end up in a tent in the woods, or, like Kit Kat, sleeping behind a building next to a dumpster.
Legions of brave social workers, ministers, and volunteers are working on this problem - one person at a time. Someday we will prevail. It is a law of the universe that pendulums don't swing in one direction forever.
These miracles are not easy to come by. Landlords who are renting out roach-infested, substandard apartments in crack neighborhoods require credit checks and background checks before they will rent to someone. You have to pass a drug test to get a job flipping burgers.
It wasn't always like this. People with problems used to be able to rent rooms and get casual employment, pretty much just by showing up for it. Then they could go to community mental health centers that took drop-ins and charged a sliding scale that started out as low as a dollar a session. Public and community colleges had very low tuition and troubled "youts" could even go to school while they put their lives back together.
During the 1960s a lot of lives needed to be put back together. The 1950s was a period of silence and repression in our country. Alchol and pill addiction, child abuse and domestic battery took place behind closed doors while nearly everyone looked the other way and pretended it wasn't happening. A friend of mine once told me a story that is emblazoned on my brain forever, because it so typifies the era I grew up in. Her father was an alcoholic. One day he was passed out on the couch in the formal "parlor" where guests were entertained, just at the time the
family minister was due to come by for his weekly, 20-minute pastoral call. Her mother threw a couch cover over her father and had all the children sit on top of him, in a row, during the reverend's visit. The reverend may or may not have been taken in by this ruse, but if he wasn't he never said anything. That's how family problems were handled in the 1950s.
Little wonder that the teenagers and young adults of the 1960s turned the world upside down in our desire to "let it all hang out." The safety net we needed to get us through these years was in place. Now it isn't. If you have addictions, mental illness, emotional problems, you better have money or a family that will put up with you, or you are going to end up in a tent in the woods, or, like Kit Kat, sleeping behind a building next to a dumpster.
Legions of brave social workers, ministers, and volunteers are working on this problem - one person at a time. Someday we will prevail. It is a law of the universe that pendulums don't swing in one direction forever.
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