Faith In Others Is A Casualty Of Homelessness

I talked to a guy in front of the Edwards Hotel the other day. I knew him from my shelter-working days. I hadn’t seen him in a while.
I was looking for another homeless man who had been kicked out of the Sheridan Community Homeless Shelter (like so many others) several months ago. He is often walking along the main drags of Sheridan. Since he got kicked out, he has been living in a room about the size of two double beds. I walked up the narrow claustrophobic staircase and paced up and down the hallway a couple of times, hoping to spot the guy.
No luck.
I came downstairs and out on the street in front was this other guy – a veteran, a musician, an alcoholic, a thinker.
We surprised one another. Neither of us expecting to see the other, and especially not in front of the pawn shop on the ground floor of the Edwards Hotel.
“I was hoping to bump into you sometime,” I said.
“Why?” he asked.
“I just wanted to touch base and see how you are doing.”
“Really?” he said. “What’s your agenda. I mean, are you just a nice guy, or are you doing this for some reason.”
I am still getting used to the natural mistrust that seems to be more apparent among the homeless. He had had so many things stolen from him, so many fights on the highways and by-ways, so many promises not kept, so many assurances not followed through.
I smiled and looked at him through the corner of my eyes.
“I am just a nice guy,” I said. “C’mon. You knew that.”
It is hard to trust yourself into the care of another, especially when care has had a history with you of halting starts and frequent sputters. Comprehensive care and an unbroken continuum of care are still at the dreaming stages, but I am convinced if we keep paddling our little boats, we may one day reach shores only heretofore dreamed of. Feather those oars, lads, lest we shorten our carry! Nautical talk, that.