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.