The Homeless Experience Part Two

Pictured left to right: Deano, Shane, and Lee

This is the second entry of a three part series I am writing about a recent visit with some homeless men in Richmond. In the first post I wrote about Deano, the displaced coal miner and broken hearted soul who had lost his beloved Ina.
This second entry will be mostly about Lee. A complex man in so many ways who initially unnerved me, but ultimately made me really think about the homeless in a whole new way.





As Deano appeared to withdraw into himself, the tallest man, Lee, came and sat down with us and began to talk.

With a sidelong glance at Deano, Lee's presence had a very strong vibe. He began to talk and it immediately became apparent the attention would now be on him. With a bit of what seemed like arrogance, I wasn't sure how I felt about this man.

Shane approached the small group and inquired about one of the handmade signs laying on the wood pile. With a skilled photographer's eye for detail, he noticed someone had taken the time to attach a piece of art canvas to the wood. "Who's the artist?" Shane asked.
"Me" replied Lee.
Shane acknowledged he knew Lee was skilled at metal and stone work, but not artwork. I noticed a slight, almost embarrassed smile from Lee and wondered at this very familiar type exchange between the two men. It was clear that Shane had taken the time to really get to know these men beyond the standard realm of tossing some loose change and perhaps dropping off some warm soup on a cold winter's night.

Lee said he recently lost his drivers licence due to a DUI. He admitted he had done some time in jail because of it. Something told me that this wasn't his first offense, but I chose not to pry.

As the conversation progressed, Lee shared that he had received an Associates Degree in Business, and had thoughts of returning to school in the hopes of  achieving a Bachelors Degree. The more he talked, the more he interested me. At first, I thought he was bending the truth a bit, but as the conversation progressed, it became evident that Lee really is a man with a great deal of intelligence and I began to wonder how different his life could be if only he had made some different choices.

During the course of our conversation, Lee relayed several stories about his life. Another admission he made was his severe anger management problem he had been forced to deal with. Several years ago, he participated in an intensive and progressive rehabilitation program, designed to help people address unacceptable behavioral issues. He said he ultimately spent three years in the program.
The people enrolled in this therapy were expected to know who the Team Leads were, Program Managers, Clinical workers, Therapists, which activities were required on what day, etc. He explained if a participant neglected to complete an assignment, or  memorize what you were required to know, the participant would be held accountable for this lapse in progress due to inadequate preparation. Lee said typically, for most of the individuals in this group, a negative, defensive behavior would then erupt, and the person would have consequences for this behavior. Once the person had their emotions under control, they would then have to implement ways to improve their responses to negative interactions. As a person progressed within the program, they would then be assigned more responsibility and assist other people who were enrolled. Lee explained many, many aspects of the program in great detail. Quite honestly, I was amazed at how well he articulated the entire process. I almost felt as if I were checking into the program and he was telling me what to expect.

When he finished describing the program, I asked him if he had ever thought about becoming a counselor, since he seemed so well versed in the program and he could speak from experience. He smiled, looked at me with those twinkly blue eyes and proceeded to tell me that during the course of the program, he became an expert at helping others to deal with their issues and progress through the program. However, he was approached by his own Team Leads and asked why he had aced this task of helping others, but when would he deal with his own behaviors?
By the gleam in his eye, I could see when he was asked that question, in that environment, the proverbial light bulb went off in his head. Lee began to address his own unacceptable behaviors.

Shortly after the conversation ended, he made mention of a dear friend of his, Jennifer. He assured me she was only a friend, but often certain people felt threatened by that friendship so they didn't see each other very much. I had the distinct feeling  the "certain people" might be Jennifer's boyfriend. For this reason, Lee did not see her very often because he didn't want any trouble to come of it for either one of them.

His affection toward Jennifer was very obvious. I got the feeling he felt a bit protective of her, but in a big brother sort of way. Once, he told me, when they stopped at a homeless center for a hot meal, they were told Jennifer could not enter. Both women and children were not allowed at that center, due to some issues that had happened in the past.
Lee was very upset that she was not allowed in. He was not willing to leave without saying something, as Jennifer was hungry and it was cold outside. Instead of becoming angry, he decided to calmly use the positive behaviors he had learned from the behavior modification classes and spoke with the head of the center. Lee lodged a formal complaint and explained to the Director the reasons he found the new rule unacceptable. He proudly stated that by using the skills he had learned in the behavior modification program and dealing with the problem in a positive manner, there was a chance that a new center, specific for women and children, might be in the works. It struck me that the majority of this pride was not for himself, but the thought of the end result of a need being fulfilled. Lee appeared to have a genuine concern regarding women living on the streets, with nowhere to go.

Shane decided it was time to drive to the store. As we entered the car, I insisted Lee take the front seat because his legs were much longer than mine. After a bit of a gentlemanly protest, we headed the few blocks to the convenience store.

Along the way, we passed an abandoned truck that clearly was not part of the normal landscape. Shane asked Lee how long it had been there. Lee replied "a few days".
That opened the conversation for a question I had been wanting to ask. "How safe do you feel living out here?"
Lee said overall he felt pretty safe. The group of men stay in pairs and all are fairly close by each other. He stated that some areas are safer than others and pointed to a store across the street. "See that store? A guy got killed there last week."

We turned left and pulled up to another convenience store. There were bars on the windows and it reminded me of my younger days when I would go to downtown Detroit. Even back then, those bars always intensified that feeling of a thug with a gun showing up at anytime.
Lee and I entered the store, and I handed Lee the $15 I had in my pocket. I asked him to get Deano's items and use the rest for whatever he needed. Earlier, I had asked Deano if I could buy his items for him, as a thank you for his hospitality and taking the time to talk with me. At first, he told me no, he didn't want anything from me. Touched by his genuineness, I explained that I knew he didn't expect anything, I just wanted to say thank you and that was the only way I knew how.

What happened next surprised me more than anything else had that day. Lee looked at me and said "Deano wants beer and cigarettes. Are you sure you want to buy those for him? I don't know how you feel about that."
Wow. Did not see a statement like that coming from a homeless guy.

I smiled and replied "yes, I know. Deano told me. Thank you, Lee."
As we walked to the cooler, Lee selected Deano's beer of choice. When he bent over to grab the bottle, a young man approached me, pointed to the camera hanging around my neck and said "nice camera". Without much thought, I replied "thank you."
A moment later, he stepped a little closer and said "no, I mean that's a REALLY nice camera."
Suddenly, as I looked in his eyes, I was transported back to Detroit, July 3, 1985, when I was with three friends in downtown Detroit to enjoy the fireworks. The guy I was walking with had refused to remove his gold necklace. He had several pendants hanging from the necklace and it stood out like a sore thumb. As we walked down a side street, there was a group of young men sitting along a stone wall, right above the sidewalk. Needless to say, I saw one of the young men focus in on my friend's neck, saw the intent in his eyes as he focused on the pendants and watched as he quickly leaned over and ripped the jewelery from his neck as he broke into a run down the street. A bit of a scuffle broke out as the pendants fell to the ground. It just wasn't a good night at all.
This man had the exact same look in his eyes as the mugger had.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I couldn't help but think "oh, shit".
As my heart started to pound, I looked him square back in the eyes and calmly and flatly said "and I said thanks."

Lee glanced at the quick exchange, stood up with the beer and the man walked away. He calmly glanced down at me, and said "yea, that IS a really nice camera with a great big logo on the front. People around here really LIKE to have nice cameras."
Feeling like a complete and utter fool for overlooking such a simple safety issue, I nodded my head sheepishly and moved in closer to Lee, using him to block the obvious view of my camera while we were in line. Standing there, it gave me an odd feeling that here I was, acutely aware that I was huddled against a virtual stranger, knowing he had both a criminal record and addiction problems, but yet feeling a sense of appreciation that he'd see me safely back to the car. It still blows my mind, quite honestly.

I don't think Lee thought too much more about the incident, but I suddenly hated that anyone would be be exposed to constant threats, and it simply becomes part of everyday life. Now I am even more curious about the homeless population and why it exists so prevalently in American society. Is it by choice, induced by mental illness? Do some people crave the hardships faced on the streets? If given the chance to start a "normal" life, how many homeless would be successful or even want to try?

When we returned, another man, James, came over and informed everyone he was off to enter the lottery. I wished him luck, silently wondered if he actually won would he extend his good fortune to his homeless friends or just disappear into the sunset.

 Little did I know what the lottery really meant.


*The next entry will be my final entry. I will explain what the lottery is and what I really learned in a few hours that day.

The Homeless Experience Part One

I awoke this morning with my mind racing. I had the chance to experience something quite different yesterday and my mind is now flooded with conflicting thoughts. At this point, I'm not even sure what all of these thoughts are because in true "fate and circumstance" form, things don't always happen as we plan.

A few weeks ago, I asked my Photography Instructor, Shane, if he knew of any photographic artists in the area who would allow me to shadow them. Still unsure of what I plan to pursue in the future, it was my intent to strictly observe what a photographic artist "does". I was pleasantly surprised when he offered to allow me to shadow him, as I knew he had been working on a project with some homeless men for some time. He did advise me however, when he spends time with these men, he does what they do and completely interacts with them. I thought for a second and decided this intrigued me on several levels. Grateful for the opportunity to observe him as an artist, the offer was quickly accepted.

As the "Project" day came closer, I sent Shane an email asking if any of the men would let me interview them. What better material could I have for my blog, given the subject? He simply replied "I'm sure that can be arranged."

With Saturday quickly approaching, I started to wonder what to ask these men. Would they be nice? Insane? Aloof? How should I approach them? Would they be truthful? Why the heck am I doing this?

Driving through the city, I suddenly became aware of quite a few people on the streets. Not just people, but people who were wearing old, worn coats, perhaps shuffling, meandering, or even limping down the street with no apparent destination in mind, and no sense of urgency to get there. Most were alone, but sometimes there would be two or more people in a group. Was everyone wearing a hood, gloves and worn coat homeless? Were they waiting for a bus, or perhaps sitting on the curb in public view for safety reasons? Knowing that some people do consciously make the decision to live on the streets, I kept wondering why on earth a person would intentionally choose this life. I also became acutely curious as to how large the homeless population is in Richmond and how many of those people wished and worked toward a better life.

When I arrived at Shane's apartment, he offered me a cup of coffee. While he loaded his camera gear, he asked what I hoped to get from this. In a very long, drawn out version, I essentially explained to both him and myself that I had no idea. While my original intent was to strictly observe the photographer, I also realized the human aspect of interacting with these people who live in such a different world from "the norm", was pulling my brain in a much different direction. In that moment, I decided to just go along for the ride, fate would dictate my afternoon. Either way, I was strictly an observer.

As we drove down a side street, there stood a man on the corner, holding a sign. Just as we approached the corner, Shane pulled into an opening, up on the grass. He began to point people out: "That's James over there, and that's Deano. He's a really sweet guy." Immediately, the shorter, big guy approached. "Hey Shane!", obvious fondness twinkling in his eye. After a brief exchange, Shane introduced me to James and explained I was there to observe and interview, if that was okay. He asked if any of the guys would maybe be willing to talk to me. James mumbled the guys would always be willing to talk to a woman "specially that looks like that". I couldn't help but begin to laugh at the familiar, off handed type of compliment I grew up around. It was meant to be kind and I hadn't heard a line like that since I worked in the skilled nursing facility and hung out "with the guys". It was even funnier since I had on my grungiest of jeans, no makeup, and an old, raunchy coat. I immediately relaxed from his gentle humor and was appreciative of the warm welcoming.

While we walked the few steps towards a make shift sitting area in front of some brush, Shane quietly informed me he had never brought a woman there, and he was a little worried, as he didn't know what to expect. Quickly I uttered "don't worry, I'm fine", and really meant it. In an odd way, as I looked at these older men, I felt a strange sense of familiarity. I immediately thought of my great uncles and all of my buddies at Silver Lake, men who had done great things and  men who had also fallen on hard times. Suddenly, I had the overwhelming sense to talk, but more than anything, I hoped they would be willing to share their stories so I could listen and learn.

In front of the brush pile, atop greasy black dirt littered with bottle caps, small pieces of plastic, and other various debris, sat an older man surrounded by a variety of chairs ranging from broken white plastic lawn chairs, to two old padded, floral designed kitchen chairs. The older man was introduced to me as Deano. He held out his gloved hand and gave a warm, welcoming smile. His bright green eyes glistened with warmth and friendliness in a very surprising manner. Again, I felt oddly comfortable. As Deano offered me a seat, he quickly stopped me before I sat on one of the padded seats. It had rained that morning and he didn't want me to sit in a wet chair. He looked for something to use as a moisture barrier for the chair, but I chose to sit diagonal from him in one of the white plastic chairs. I tried to not call attention to the cold that permeated my skin when I sat down and tried to look around nonchalantly.

Behind Deano sat a piling of an assortment of wood. Atop the wood were two pair of boots. Later in the day, Shane would ask Deano "whose boots are those?". His response? "Anybody's."

Deano's steady gaze was anything but threatening. His intent to put me at ease was obvious. With a smile, he noticed the "Genesis Health Care" emblem on my old coat. "Oh, your a health care worker?" he half stated, half asked. The thought seemed to please him. I told him "No, that was a long time ago. I worked in a skilled nursing facility about 8 years ago."

 He started to tell me about his own stay at a hospital. I'm not sure how long ago it happened, but the experience definitely impacted him greatly. The story itself was a little fractured, as he explained how his case worker informed him he was "very sick". He shared how there was a heated exchange between he and the case worker, resulting in the case worker slamming his hands on a desk in exasperation and warning Deano he was "a very sick man, and you either go to the hospital willingly or with the police".
 Deano ultimately spent 6 to 10 days in the hospital. He said they treated him very well, fed him and were nice to him. However, the staff advised him not to get out of bed by himself, because he was a fall risk. With half a mischievous grin, Deano revealed to me how the aides caught him in the shower after warning him and promptly hauled him out, slapped a "FALL RISK" bracelet on him and warned him not to do it again. He then put an erect index finger next to the side of his head, and rotated it to demonstrate the words "I was out of my head then. You know, I kind of lost it".
With a sheepish look, I assumed he might be embarrassed by revealing this. "Are you feeling okay now?"
 He nodded his head. I asked him where he came from originally and he said "West Virginia".
He  had been a coal miner but the work dried up. I then told him that my Grandfather's side of the family had been Pennsylvania coal miners. He was shocked to hear my great grandfather lived to be over 90 years old with no evidence of black lung. It wasn't until much later in the day I realized the real reason Deano kept getting up and moving away was to clear his own lungs.

As we sat to talk some more, Deano told me after he left West Virginia, he moved to Kentucky. A warm grin graced his face and he smiled as he was transported to a happier time. His eyes softened, he tilted his face toward the sky, and he began to share his story about his beloved Ina.

Ina was 5 years older that Deano, but that didn't matter to him. He loved her tremendously, and had every intention of marrying her. He told me that they were close. "REALLY close" he emphasised several times. He was so happy when he was with her, they always had fun and could really rely on each other. After a few moments of reminiscing, he looked me in the eyes again and said "four days before my birthday, my birthday is in April, four days before, she got killed." Flat. Sad. Hopeless. End of story. Deano's head dropped and he he said "I really loved Ina". He again lifted his head and smiled but I knew he was transported to another time, another place, a juxtaposisiton of love and hurt.

The twinkle in his eyes drained and I saw a closing of himself. He looked down, excused himself and I watched him slowly and painfully walk over toward the pile of wood and grab his sign. He then crossed the road and began to panhandle.

Dieano talked to me again later in the day, but the twinkle in his eye was gone. What replaced it almost gave an inclination of vacancy. What is behind that vacancy, I can only speculate but I feel fortunate that he took the time to talk to me. It did not escape me that at one point during my conversation with Deano, a non-homeless man appeared and when he sat down, Lee, one of the homeless men Shane knows, came over and joined the group. He appeared a little gruff, perhaps irritated and I was unsure why.

Lee bears a strong resemblance to someone I lost recently, right down to the loud voice and twinkly blue eyes. Almost immediately, Lee made it apparent he did indeed possess a good deal of intelligence. Most definitely a strong personality, and this made me a little nervous.

At one point, someone in the group declared the need for a smoke and beer run. Shane offered a ride to the store, and when the three of us approached the car, Lee immediately went toward the back seat. I told him to take the front, noting his legs were much longer than mine. Only after Shane insisted did Lee take the front seat. Once again, the old fashioned manners and gentlemanly behavior piqued my interest with this group of displaced men.

Once we left the "camp" and started the drive to the store, Lee started to talk some more. When Shane asked about an abandoned truck not far from their tent, I asked Lee how he safe he felt living on the streets. He started to talk and in no time flat, I was reminded why you never show fear on the streets.

I plan on sharing my story about Lee in my next entry. Things that he told me, the five minutes in the convenience store, and his general attitude all surprised me. Funny how a few hours can have such a profound effect on a person.