I will try to keep it short. How about a Haiku version?
Shelter locks your drugs,
Then your drugs turn up stolen,
Irresponsible.
Shelter residents who have “controlled” medications with them (mostly prescription pain killers) must turn in these and all other drugs to the shelter for supposed safekeeping.
“Controlled” medications are placed in a small lock box with the resident’s name taped onto it. The two keys to this box go to the shelter director and the resident. The lock box is then placed in a filing cabinet drawer that only shelter staff have access to by key.
The filing cabinet is kept in a locked room. Note, the locked room has only a half-wall. The wall separating the room from the outer office area does not go all the way to the ceiling.
Once the resident turns over these medications, does it not make sense to you that the shelter becomes responsible for the security of these drugs?
A resident called me some days ago and said his lock box had been broken into, and his painkillers stolen. He suspected one of the staff, and let this be known. Of course, from that point on he wasn’t exactly the Man of the Hour as far as the shelter was concerned. He was even grilled by the shelter director as to whether he had been talking to me about this. Apparently I am the least likely to ever be Man of the Hour at the shelter. Maybe they will name a men’sroom stall after me someday.
So, the room was supposedly locked, with staff having the key. The cabinet in the room was supposedly locked, with staff having a key. And, the lock box in the cabinet was broken into, as staff did not have access to a key. This mystery certainly walks and quacks like a duck.
Anyway, the resident was advised by the director to stay “hush-hush” about this. He told me he was led to believe that if he notified the police that a felony had occurred at the shelter, his time there would be significantly and immediately foreshortened.
I advised the shelter director’s boss about this, as the director has a history of telling her supervisor only what she wants them to know. It turns out, she had told Pam about this, which is a step in the right direction. Pam is not a supervisor one can easily sidestep.
Pam wrote me an email and said I only had half the story.
I am sure I missed the usual deception, denial and manipulation of facts.
I asked Pam if all future felonies that occur at the shelter are going to be investigated by the shelter director, maybe with a funny hat, big spy glass and a false mustache as well.
Might as well. The place is a mockery of responsibility and respect for people in need.
PS: The resident, who went without pain pills for days, left the shelter the day after he called me. Apparently, a staff member was “out to get him thrown out,” so he left without that additional affront.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
A Backward Look, etc., Continued ...
In Feburary, “Shelter Happens” continued to enumerate offenses against homeless people and problems in the management of the VOA Sheridan Community Homeless Shelter:
Shelter staff harass a resident who was waiting for a technical job; said he would amount to nothing; accused him of “shelter-hopping.” Man gets job he wants in Sheridan and lives happily ever after, but to do so had to ignore shelter “support.”
Resident on probation in court succeeds with job and begins GED; is harassed by staff for being at the shelter for so long.
Shelter’s “Not-Welcome-Back list is as thick as the phone book, and goes back years. One Sheridan woman didn’t think she could return because five years ago she had said a bad word at the shelter.
Shelter takes control of all medications, and, as we will see later, becomes responsible (if not liable) for missed doses, over-doses and loss through theft. Shelter director pretends to be doctor and pharmacist.
VOA pays itself $60,000 per year for “administrative costs” skimmed from donations from well-meaning people. Local execs enjoy fat wallets; shelter residents sometimes don’t get seconds on noodles because of “costs.”
VA Domiciliary does a better job in caring for veterans. Why do we have a vets program that doesn’t work in the shelter?
VOA National website says, “We stay with (the homeless) for as long as it takes to return them to self-sufficiency.” I write to the executives to point out that this is a lie in Sheridan. No response.
Shelter residents are expected to spy on one another when they are not at the shelter.
A woman resident is made even more miserable by the manipulative, control-oriented “care” at the shelter. Now “free,” the woman say she would stay under a bridge before ever returning to the shelter.
A female veteran gets kicked out of the shelter on Christmas morning.
Shelter welcomes only the well-behaved, the polite and the mannerful. Lack a refinement and pack your bags.
Shelter is a bad neighbor to fellow human beings who have hit hard times. Just what they need – a condescending, cruel, threatening, intrusive environment to add to the weight of their already-difficult struggle.
That sums the list from January and February. I hope this catches you up if you haven’t been reading for long, or if you visit once in a while.
All readers, friend or foe, are appreciated.
I repeat my guarantee: If there is anything untrue on this blog, let me know and I will remove it immediately.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
A Backward Look O'er Traveled Roads (Thank You, Walt Whitman!)
Blogs are a little difficult to read. As much as it makes sense to place the most recent post at the top, it also makes sense to read things from the beginning. As you scroll down some of my old posts, you run into “Part II” of something first, and then “Part I” underneath it.
With this difficulty in mind, I thought it would be a good time to review what has transpired in this blog since it began on January 17.
We have found much amiss at the homeless shelter, mostly due to the authoritarian and dictatorial ways of the director. The presence of cruelty where compassion ought to be is the main reason I started asking the Volunteers of America Wyoming-Montana Board to set up some measures for accountability and quality of care at the shelter. These seem very rational requests, but for some reason VOA refuses to look at its problem. They instead choose to make me the problem.
Here is a list of the problems pointed out in this “Shelter Happens” blog:
· The shelter condescends to residents, and operates on a control-by-fear premise.
· The shelter further dis-empowers vulnerable people, treating them poorly and unfairly.
· The shelter fails to uphold the dignity and respect due every individual.
· The shelter unreasonably placed a needy Sheridan resident on its “not-welcome-back” list.
· A veteran was kicked out for saying, “I know what these people are like. I’m not like them.”
· Last August, the shelter sent at least four dump-trucks full of donations to the landfill.
· A resident who got a job on his first day the shelter was later kicked out for being too chipper in the morning, and landing a good deal on a rare motorcycle. I know. It doesn’t make sense to me either.
Well, that’s just from January. I will revisit February soon. Even these seven show that there is some kind of problem (or freak show) at the shelter. There’s more in Feburary, and of course this month … and more stories not yet written. Stay tuned, as they say.
With this difficulty in mind, I thought it would be a good time to review what has transpired in this blog since it began on January 17.
We have found much amiss at the homeless shelter, mostly due to the authoritarian and dictatorial ways of the director. The presence of cruelty where compassion ought to be is the main reason I started asking the Volunteers of America Wyoming-Montana Board to set up some measures for accountability and quality of care at the shelter. These seem very rational requests, but for some reason VOA refuses to look at its problem. They instead choose to make me the problem.
Here is a list of the problems pointed out in this “Shelter Happens” blog:
· The shelter condescends to residents, and operates on a control-by-fear premise.
· The shelter further dis-empowers vulnerable people, treating them poorly and unfairly.
· The shelter fails to uphold the dignity and respect due every individual.
· The shelter unreasonably placed a needy Sheridan resident on its “not-welcome-back” list.
· A veteran was kicked out for saying, “I know what these people are like. I’m not like them.”
· Last August, the shelter sent at least four dump-trucks full of donations to the landfill.
· A resident who got a job on his first day the shelter was later kicked out for being too chipper in the morning, and landing a good deal on a rare motorcycle. I know. It doesn’t make sense to me either.
Well, that’s just from January. I will revisit February soon. Even these seven show that there is some kind of problem (or freak show) at the shelter. There’s more in Feburary, and of course this month … and more stories not yet written. Stay tuned, as they say.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Horrible Headmistress In Dahl's Book Is Imitated In Life By Shelter Director
A few days ago I alluded to a Roald Dahl character, Miss Trunchbull, in the book, Matilda.
In case you haven’t seen the movie or had the book read to you, or read it to your kids, I wanted to give you a little taste of this horrible schoolmaster, who believes that the “perfect school is one that has no children in it at all.” (Page 159)
The attitudes of Miss Trunchbull and the director of the VOA Sheridan Community Shelter toward their charges are remarkably similar:
“Now most head teachers are chosen because they possess a number of fine qualities. They understand children, and have the children’s best interest at heart. They are sympathetic. They are fair and they are deeply interested in education. Miss Trunchbull possessed none of these qualities and how she ever got her present job was a mystery.” Page 82
“‘I am never mistaken, Miss Honey!’” Page 86
“‘No, I don’t think she’s mad,’ Matilda said. “‘But she’s very dangerous. Being in this school is like being in a cage with a cobra. You have to be very fast on your feet.’” Page 118
Miss Trunchbull to Matilda’s class: “‘Not a very pretty sight,’ she said. Her expression was one of utter distaste, as though she were looking at something a dog had done on the floor. ‘What a bunch of nauseating little warts you are.’ . . . ‘It makes me vomit,’ she went on, ‘to think that I am going to have to put up with a load of garbage like you in my school . . . I can see that I am going to have to expel as many of you as possible to save myself from going round the bend.’” Page 141
“‘I suppose your mothers and fathers tell you you’re wonderful. Well I am here to tell you the opposite …’” Page 142
“Nigel spelled the word correctly which surprised the Trunchbull. She thought she had given him a very tricky word . . . and she was peeved that he had succeeded.’” Page 146
Other recommended Dahl reading includes James and the Giant Peach, with two despicable aunts last seen directing other VOA homeless shelters, I would suppose.
In case you haven’t seen the movie or had the book read to you, or read it to your kids, I wanted to give you a little taste of this horrible schoolmaster, who believes that the “perfect school is one that has no children in it at all.” (Page 159)
The attitudes of Miss Trunchbull and the director of the VOA Sheridan Community Shelter toward their charges are remarkably similar:
“Now most head teachers are chosen because they possess a number of fine qualities. They understand children, and have the children’s best interest at heart. They are sympathetic. They are fair and they are deeply interested in education. Miss Trunchbull possessed none of these qualities and how she ever got her present job was a mystery.” Page 82
“‘I am never mistaken, Miss Honey!’” Page 86
“‘No, I don’t think she’s mad,’ Matilda said. “‘But she’s very dangerous. Being in this school is like being in a cage with a cobra. You have to be very fast on your feet.’” Page 118
Miss Trunchbull to Matilda’s class: “‘Not a very pretty sight,’ she said. Her expression was one of utter distaste, as though she were looking at something a dog had done on the floor. ‘What a bunch of nauseating little warts you are.’ . . . ‘It makes me vomit,’ she went on, ‘to think that I am going to have to put up with a load of garbage like you in my school . . . I can see that I am going to have to expel as many of you as possible to save myself from going round the bend.’” Page 141
“‘I suppose your mothers and fathers tell you you’re wonderful. Well I am here to tell you the opposite …’” Page 142
“Nigel spelled the word correctly which surprised the Trunchbull. She thought she had given him a very tricky word . . . and she was peeved that he had succeeded.’” Page 146
Other recommended Dahl reading includes James and the Giant Peach, with two despicable aunts last seen directing other VOA homeless shelters, I would suppose.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Weird-But-True: Donations Help Shelter Continue To Hurt People
I see one of the organizations in my town is having a fund-raiser and giving part of its cash to the homeless shelter.
I am pleased that my community gives evidence that it cares about the homeless in our area. A healthy community reaches out to its own.
Any thinking person who wants to help the homeless in their community would conclude that donating to the homeless shelter would be a logical step.
There are a couple of things wrong here, however. First, this particular shelter has such a bizarre and destructive approach to people that it is worse than having no shelter at all. We would be better off as a community to halt any further support until the innate dignity and worth of the individuals seeking assistance there is restored, and people are no longer dismissed by the whims of the director, or discounted as valuable people, or told to their faces that they are mentally ill.
Of nearly every male in the shelter, while I was there, the director would remark, “There goes a sad, sick little man.”
Also wrong in this scenario is that the shelter is the stopping place for thinking about the homeless.
Because of the shelter’s poor and erratic treatment of people, the community is flooded with individuals who are making do in motels, a friend’s couch, or settling for meager shelter sometimes in rooms no bigger than a bed. These people are not being cared for, and any monies given to the shelter will not reach the under-sheltered and the under-assisted who are trying to kick-start a life here.
Our worse-than-nothing homeless shelter is not the only way to reach out with donations. In fact, giving money to this shelter is ultimately like giving away free packs of cigarettes in the name of cancer research.
Some of these people eat at the Lunch Together soup kitchen program in the basement of one of our downtown churches. Some of these people are a month’s rent, or less, away from acquiring a decent apartment. Some of these people are short the few dollars to get an ID card, or to get a certified copy of their birth certificate, or to restore a driver’s license.
Why not work with a property manager to provide a needy person or couple or family with the first month’s rent and/or deposit required to get into a place. This alone stops many from going any further in their quest for a place to live. Why not give money to Lunch Together, which does not have a multimillion-dollar budget, the bulk of which is made up of grants.
My community needs to realize that the homeless shelter in this town does not help the homeless. Although it truly feels good to give money to such a cause, in reality, donations help the shelter continue to hurt people.
I am pleased that my community gives evidence that it cares about the homeless in our area. A healthy community reaches out to its own.
Any thinking person who wants to help the homeless in their community would conclude that donating to the homeless shelter would be a logical step.
There are a couple of things wrong here, however. First, this particular shelter has such a bizarre and destructive approach to people that it is worse than having no shelter at all. We would be better off as a community to halt any further support until the innate dignity and worth of the individuals seeking assistance there is restored, and people are no longer dismissed by the whims of the director, or discounted as valuable people, or told to their faces that they are mentally ill.
Of nearly every male in the shelter, while I was there, the director would remark, “There goes a sad, sick little man.”
Also wrong in this scenario is that the shelter is the stopping place for thinking about the homeless.
Because of the shelter’s poor and erratic treatment of people, the community is flooded with individuals who are making do in motels, a friend’s couch, or settling for meager shelter sometimes in rooms no bigger than a bed. These people are not being cared for, and any monies given to the shelter will not reach the under-sheltered and the under-assisted who are trying to kick-start a life here.
Our worse-than-nothing homeless shelter is not the only way to reach out with donations. In fact, giving money to this shelter is ultimately like giving away free packs of cigarettes in the name of cancer research.
Some of these people eat at the Lunch Together soup kitchen program in the basement of one of our downtown churches. Some of these people are a month’s rent, or less, away from acquiring a decent apartment. Some of these people are short the few dollars to get an ID card, or to get a certified copy of their birth certificate, or to restore a driver’s license.
Why not work with a property manager to provide a needy person or couple or family with the first month’s rent and/or deposit required to get into a place. This alone stops many from going any further in their quest for a place to live. Why not give money to Lunch Together, which does not have a multimillion-dollar budget, the bulk of which is made up of grants.
My community needs to realize that the homeless shelter in this town does not help the homeless. Although it truly feels good to give money to such a cause, in reality, donations help the shelter continue to hurt people.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Sick Management Culture Induces Pukey Organization
Management culture or workplace culture has been emphasized here and there in businesses and corporations, including those in my town.
Defining or describing the management culture at Volunteers of America, Wyoming-Montana, with offices in Sheridan, Wyoming, is slightly less easy than nailing Jello to a tree.
Maintaining the image of the organization has taken over the management style of the CEO and one of his VP’s such that anything of real concern or value must pass muster with the organization’s image. Even their image of the community’s image of them is distorted.
In this kind of culture, it is no wonder that valid questions about the treatment of vulnerable people at their homeless shelter would lead to defense and denial. It is not possible in their wildest dreams that they have a shelter director who shreds people like no-longer-needed documents.
“Bad things just don’t happen in this organization,” I can hear the CEO beaming at his leadership team all cherubic and artificially comfortable.
I attended a leadership retreat of VOA, and should have known then that the shelter director’s take-charge, interrupt and mow-down style had some sort of validating source. When you ask someone to give a presentation to the group, you shouldn’t interrupt them and help them make their points. When someone raises a concern, you should not turn your back on them and treat them as though they had not spoken.
His veep is worse. I will never forget the forgettable meeting we had with him in Buffalo where he spent a good 20 minutes telling us we were not a non-profit organization, but a not-for-profit one. (I may have reversed these, as the nonsensical blathering never quite solidified in my head.) While there is a distinction in the terms, we were forced to watch and listen as he slowly descended into lunacy. You get used to that after a while.
The integrity of an organization starts at the top and is directed by administration. Integrity asks what part of your organization melts like wax when heat is applied. Integrity asks whether you comply with all protocols for certification in all of your programs; do you comply with the demands and expectations of grantors who provide you funding; do you know where the men’s room is in the shelter you supposedly operate.Or, do you prefer to look like you are in charge and hoist your ego onto the table in front of you, which blocks your view of the valid perspectives of others.
The answer is obvious from an organization that does not train its staff to certification standards, does not comply with grantor expectations, and says it serves the homeless, when instead it floods the streets of Sheridan with people who have been kicked out rather than assisted, and placed on the “Not-Welcome-Back” list rather than given a toe hold on hope.
The easiest and best way to appear to be a good organization is simply to be one. VOA has lost its way thanks to its management culture and “creative” integrity.
Defining or describing the management culture at Volunteers of America, Wyoming-Montana, with offices in Sheridan, Wyoming, is slightly less easy than nailing Jello to a tree.
Maintaining the image of the organization has taken over the management style of the CEO and one of his VP’s such that anything of real concern or value must pass muster with the organization’s image. Even their image of the community’s image of them is distorted.
In this kind of culture, it is no wonder that valid questions about the treatment of vulnerable people at their homeless shelter would lead to defense and denial. It is not possible in their wildest dreams that they have a shelter director who shreds people like no-longer-needed documents.
“Bad things just don’t happen in this organization,” I can hear the CEO beaming at his leadership team all cherubic and artificially comfortable.
I attended a leadership retreat of VOA, and should have known then that the shelter director’s take-charge, interrupt and mow-down style had some sort of validating source. When you ask someone to give a presentation to the group, you shouldn’t interrupt them and help them make their points. When someone raises a concern, you should not turn your back on them and treat them as though they had not spoken.
His veep is worse. I will never forget the forgettable meeting we had with him in Buffalo where he spent a good 20 minutes telling us we were not a non-profit organization, but a not-for-profit one. (I may have reversed these, as the nonsensical blathering never quite solidified in my head.) While there is a distinction in the terms, we were forced to watch and listen as he slowly descended into lunacy. You get used to that after a while.
The integrity of an organization starts at the top and is directed by administration. Integrity asks what part of your organization melts like wax when heat is applied. Integrity asks whether you comply with all protocols for certification in all of your programs; do you comply with the demands and expectations of grantors who provide you funding; do you know where the men’s room is in the shelter you supposedly operate.Or, do you prefer to look like you are in charge and hoist your ego onto the table in front of you, which blocks your view of the valid perspectives of others.
The answer is obvious from an organization that does not train its staff to certification standards, does not comply with grantor expectations, and says it serves the homeless, when instead it floods the streets of Sheridan with people who have been kicked out rather than assisted, and placed on the “Not-Welcome-Back” list rather than given a toe hold on hope.
The easiest and best way to appear to be a good organization is simply to be one. VOA has lost its way thanks to its management culture and “creative” integrity.
Friday, March 14, 2008
My Letter To U.S. Senator Mike Enzi (R-WY)
March 6, 2008
Dear Senator Enzi,
I wish for your office to know that I am concerned about the undignified treatment of American veterans who seek assistance from the homeless shelter in Sheridan, Wyoming, and the shelter’s failure to fulfill its obligations with regard to its award of national VA Grant Per Diem Program monies.
The latter concern is my most salient, as I realize it is not against the law to be mean-spirited or to manage poorly.
Volunteers of America Wyoming-Montana owns and operates this shelter on the grounds of the Sheridan Veterans Administration, under the name of the VOA Sheridan Community Homeless Shelter. This grant is administered by the Department of Veterans Affairs Veterans Health Administration.
Enclosed, you will find a letter dated Feb. 14, 2008, to Roger Casey, a contact person for Grant Per Diem Program issues. In this letter I have detailed what I believe to be the failures on the part of the VOA Sheridan Community Shelter in following through with the “assurances” that are required by all grant awardees.
I have also enclosed a copy of the Feb. 26, 2008, letter I received from Grant and Per Diem Program Acting Director Chelsea Watson, in which she acknowledges my letter to Mr. Casey, and indicates she has forwarded my concerns to the appropriate VISN coordinator and liaison.
I seek your help in seeing to it that this review is a fair and accurate one, and to see that corrective measures are taken by this shelter to bring its quality of care up to the levels I am sure we all want for our defenders.
My sincerest thanks for your help in this matter.
Best regards,
Tim Cummings
Concerned Citizen
Dear Senator Enzi,
I wish for your office to know that I am concerned about the undignified treatment of American veterans who seek assistance from the homeless shelter in Sheridan, Wyoming, and the shelter’s failure to fulfill its obligations with regard to its award of national VA Grant Per Diem Program monies.
The latter concern is my most salient, as I realize it is not against the law to be mean-spirited or to manage poorly.
Volunteers of America Wyoming-Montana owns and operates this shelter on the grounds of the Sheridan Veterans Administration, under the name of the VOA Sheridan Community Homeless Shelter. This grant is administered by the Department of Veterans Affairs Veterans Health Administration.
Enclosed, you will find a letter dated Feb. 14, 2008, to Roger Casey, a contact person for Grant Per Diem Program issues. In this letter I have detailed what I believe to be the failures on the part of the VOA Sheridan Community Shelter in following through with the “assurances” that are required by all grant awardees.
I have also enclosed a copy of the Feb. 26, 2008, letter I received from Grant and Per Diem Program Acting Director Chelsea Watson, in which she acknowledges my letter to Mr. Casey, and indicates she has forwarded my concerns to the appropriate VISN coordinator and liaison.
I seek your help in seeing to it that this review is a fair and accurate one, and to see that corrective measures are taken by this shelter to bring its quality of care up to the levels I am sure we all want for our defenders.
My sincerest thanks for your help in this matter.
Best regards,
Tim Cummings
Concerned Citizen
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Acting Director of VA Per Diem Program Responds To My Letter
Department of Veterans Affairs
Veterans Health Administration
Washington, DC 20420
"Dear Mr. Cummings:
"Thank you for your letter dayed February 14, 2008, expressing concerns with the Volunteers of America Wyoming, Inc. project number 03-53-WY. Your concerns will be forwarded to the VISN Homeless Coordinator (Mr. Richard DeBlasio) and the VA Liaison (Mr. Will Banks) for review. If you have any questions concerning this letter, please contact this office (toll-free) at 1-877-332-0334.
"Sincerely,
"Chelsea Watson
"Acting Director, Grant and Per Diem Program"
Note -- The VISN is the region of which the Sheridan VA is a part.
Veterans Health Administration
Washington, DC 20420
"Dear Mr. Cummings:
"Thank you for your letter dayed February 14, 2008, expressing concerns with the Volunteers of America Wyoming, Inc. project number 03-53-WY. Your concerns will be forwarded to the VISN Homeless Coordinator (Mr. Richard DeBlasio) and the VA Liaison (Mr. Will Banks) for review. If you have any questions concerning this letter, please contact this office (toll-free) at 1-877-332-0334.
"Sincerely,
"Chelsea Watson
"Acting Director, Grant and Per Diem Program"
Note -- The VISN is the region of which the Sheridan VA is a part.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Letter Points Out VOA's Failure To Comply With Grant For Care Of Homeless Veterans
Mr. Roger Casey
VA Homeless Providers Grant and Per Diem Program
Mental Health Strategic Healthcare Group (116E)
VAHQ
810 Vermont Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20420
February 14, 2008
Mr. Casey,
I am concerned about the viability of an awardee of one of the per diem program grants.
The Sheridan (WY) Community Shelter, operated by Volunteers of America Wyoming-Montana, has not, in my opinion, followed through with the “reasonable assurances” clause in the grant.
Nor has the shelter provided any transitional housing as part of its program.
Nor has anything been done to provide follow-up services to help veterans achieve stability once they have acquired permanent housing.
Nor does the shelter director allow veterans to make their own program decisions regarding individual goals. They are bullied into accepting conditions forced upon them under the constant threat of being kicked out.
The “reasonable assurance” that not more than 25 percent of participants at any one time will be non-veterans was not attempted in the calendar year of 2007. At the time, I was assigned as the per diem service coordinator at the Sheridan Community Shelter. I was initially told, in November 2006, that I would be in charge of consulting and programming with veterans only. By January of 2007, this had been abandoned, and I was placed in charge of seeing to the programs of all shelter residents by my supervisor. Fully half of my time in the per diem position was spent working with non-veterans. I enjoyed the work, of course, but I believe the per diem “assurances” were consciously ignored.
Transitional housing, if it exists at all at the Sheridan shelter, is only on paper. One room with two beds in it at the shelter was designated “transitional,” but the residents there are given no additional responsibilities or training for moving into their own living situation. Their program is no different from anyone else’s back in the men’s dormitory. There is certainly nothing being done to establish transitional housing outside of the walls of the shelter. If the per diem grant assumes progress in the area of transitional living, no such progress exists.
There is no follow-up on the part of the shelter with veterans who have acquired permanent housing. Once they leave the threshold of the shelter, they are left out of contact, unless they have to return to the shelter because their living situation failed somehow. They are placed in a sink-or-swim situation with no further assistance offered through the per diem awardee.
Programming and goals are dictated to the veteran by the shelter director. Most of these vulnerable individuals simply accept their fate at the shelter, because they need a place to live. Also, veterans are routinely kicked out of the shelter and placed on a “not-welcome-back” list, which certainly stops the flow of care, while the grant monies continue.
I am writing you to find out whether the items above, which I consider improprieties with regard to conditions expected from the per diem grant award, are in fact improprieties. If so, how will your office address these? If not, please assist me where I am misunderstanding this.
I contend that the Sheridan Community Homeless Shelter is not a viable recipient of per diem grant money based on the abuses of conditions as listed above. The shelter is out of compliance, and should either stop its pretence or comply.
I realize that care for the homeless veteran population is currently a public issue and an emotional one. In light of this, I question whether the duplication of services between the Sheridan VA Domiciliary and the Sheridan Community Shelter should result in a rating high enough to award per diem grant funding to a corporation that also does not fulfill the apparent expectations of the grantor.
Sincerely,
Tim Cummings
Concerned Citizen
VA Homeless Providers Grant and Per Diem Program
Mental Health Strategic Healthcare Group (116E)
VAHQ
810 Vermont Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20420
February 14, 2008
Mr. Casey,
I am concerned about the viability of an awardee of one of the per diem program grants.
The Sheridan (WY) Community Shelter, operated by Volunteers of America Wyoming-Montana, has not, in my opinion, followed through with the “reasonable assurances” clause in the grant.
Nor has the shelter provided any transitional housing as part of its program.
Nor has anything been done to provide follow-up services to help veterans achieve stability once they have acquired permanent housing.
Nor does the shelter director allow veterans to make their own program decisions regarding individual goals. They are bullied into accepting conditions forced upon them under the constant threat of being kicked out.
The “reasonable assurance” that not more than 25 percent of participants at any one time will be non-veterans was not attempted in the calendar year of 2007. At the time, I was assigned as the per diem service coordinator at the Sheridan Community Shelter. I was initially told, in November 2006, that I would be in charge of consulting and programming with veterans only. By January of 2007, this had been abandoned, and I was placed in charge of seeing to the programs of all shelter residents by my supervisor. Fully half of my time in the per diem position was spent working with non-veterans. I enjoyed the work, of course, but I believe the per diem “assurances” were consciously ignored.
Transitional housing, if it exists at all at the Sheridan shelter, is only on paper. One room with two beds in it at the shelter was designated “transitional,” but the residents there are given no additional responsibilities or training for moving into their own living situation. Their program is no different from anyone else’s back in the men’s dormitory. There is certainly nothing being done to establish transitional housing outside of the walls of the shelter. If the per diem grant assumes progress in the area of transitional living, no such progress exists.
There is no follow-up on the part of the shelter with veterans who have acquired permanent housing. Once they leave the threshold of the shelter, they are left out of contact, unless they have to return to the shelter because their living situation failed somehow. They are placed in a sink-or-swim situation with no further assistance offered through the per diem awardee.
Programming and goals are dictated to the veteran by the shelter director. Most of these vulnerable individuals simply accept their fate at the shelter, because they need a place to live. Also, veterans are routinely kicked out of the shelter and placed on a “not-welcome-back” list, which certainly stops the flow of care, while the grant monies continue.
I am writing you to find out whether the items above, which I consider improprieties with regard to conditions expected from the per diem grant award, are in fact improprieties. If so, how will your office address these? If not, please assist me where I am misunderstanding this.
I contend that the Sheridan Community Homeless Shelter is not a viable recipient of per diem grant money based on the abuses of conditions as listed above. The shelter is out of compliance, and should either stop its pretence or comply.
I realize that care for the homeless veteran population is currently a public issue and an emotional one. In light of this, I question whether the duplication of services between the Sheridan VA Domiciliary and the Sheridan Community Shelter should result in a rating high enough to award per diem grant funding to a corporation that also does not fulfill the apparent expectations of the grantor.
Sincerely,
Tim Cummings
Concerned Citizen
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Attention To Social Injustice Growing, But Not As Fast As Social Injustice
Early today it was announced that the Vatican has “updated” aspects of sin with fresh attention placed on, among other things, a persistently broadening gap between the rich and the poor.
The Associated Press story from Vatican City was fraught with an undertow of an attempt a light humor, and not very graciously done. “The Church has announced a list of new sins,” nudge, nudge, har har.
Stupid journalists. I used to be one. I have repented.
The AP reported on Sunday’s edition of L’Osservatore Romano, which quotes Monsignor Giafranco Girotti on what amounts to fresh attention, or emphasis, on issues that are considered offensive to God (and therefore, sins):
VATICAN CITY (AP) - In olden days, the deadly sins included lust, gluttony and greed. Now, the Catholic Church says pollution, mind-damaging drugs and genetic experiments are on its updated thou-shalt-not list. Also receiving fresh attention by the Vatican was social injustice, along the lines of the age-old maxim: "The rich get richer while the poor get poorer."
… "If yesterday sin had a rather individualistic dimension, today it has a weight, a resonance, that's especially social, rather than individual," said Girotti, whose office deals with matters of conscience and grants absolution.
… "The poor are always becoming poorer and the rich ever more rich, feeding unsustainable social injustice," Girotti said in the interview published Sunday.
This last, about “unsustainable social injustice,” certainly applies to the homeless anywhere in the world. Their plight is not well-understood. Their existence is only absently noted by the passing world. Their innate dignity and worthiness as persons is somehow in a weird discount bin in our minds.
The homeless are spoken of as people who have other options, so they have an obvious need to get smarter, or get motivated, or just get on down the road and don’t embarrass this or that community with your want.
In fact, the vast majority of homeless people in America have played out all their options, and they need a hand, or an advocate.
In my town, all the social agencies are bumping into the emergence of a housing shortage caused by a certain amount of economic booming in the area. Although we are a small community (15,000) we have seen up-close and personal the effect of our own “unsustainable social injustice,” as some few get on the gravy train of progress, and many others are left at the station to decide where to sleep tonight. Many of our households have had long-term guests staying on couches, sparerooms, basements and vehicles of friends and relatives. I have a son-in-law-to-be living in my basement while he and my daughter search on for an apartment to live in after the wedding in May. Technically, I have a homeless young man living downstairs where we keep the cats’ food … and box.
We have come to depend on agencies and corporations and even churches to take care of our poorly-housed. The problem is pervasive enough that each of us is going to have to lend a hand.
This could mean a shift in attitude is the first order of business.
The question is not, “What is wrong with those people?”
Noted author (and Catholic convert) G.K. Chesterton was among several writers of his time who were asked to submit an essay on the subject, “What is wrong with the world.”
Chesterton’s response was succinct: “Dear Sir, I am.”
The Associated Press story from Vatican City was fraught with an undertow of an attempt a light humor, and not very graciously done. “The Church has announced a list of new sins,” nudge, nudge, har har.
Stupid journalists. I used to be one. I have repented.
The AP reported on Sunday’s edition of L’Osservatore Romano, which quotes Monsignor Giafranco Girotti on what amounts to fresh attention, or emphasis, on issues that are considered offensive to God (and therefore, sins):
VATICAN CITY (AP) - In olden days, the deadly sins included lust, gluttony and greed. Now, the Catholic Church says pollution, mind-damaging drugs and genetic experiments are on its updated thou-shalt-not list. Also receiving fresh attention by the Vatican was social injustice, along the lines of the age-old maxim: "The rich get richer while the poor get poorer."
… "If yesterday sin had a rather individualistic dimension, today it has a weight, a resonance, that's especially social, rather than individual," said Girotti, whose office deals with matters of conscience and grants absolution.
… "The poor are always becoming poorer and the rich ever more rich, feeding unsustainable social injustice," Girotti said in the interview published Sunday.
This last, about “unsustainable social injustice,” certainly applies to the homeless anywhere in the world. Their plight is not well-understood. Their existence is only absently noted by the passing world. Their innate dignity and worthiness as persons is somehow in a weird discount bin in our minds.
The homeless are spoken of as people who have other options, so they have an obvious need to get smarter, or get motivated, or just get on down the road and don’t embarrass this or that community with your want.
In fact, the vast majority of homeless people in America have played out all their options, and they need a hand, or an advocate.
In my town, all the social agencies are bumping into the emergence of a housing shortage caused by a certain amount of economic booming in the area. Although we are a small community (15,000) we have seen up-close and personal the effect of our own “unsustainable social injustice,” as some few get on the gravy train of progress, and many others are left at the station to decide where to sleep tonight. Many of our households have had long-term guests staying on couches, sparerooms, basements and vehicles of friends and relatives. I have a son-in-law-to-be living in my basement while he and my daughter search on for an apartment to live in after the wedding in May. Technically, I have a homeless young man living downstairs where we keep the cats’ food … and box.
We have come to depend on agencies and corporations and even churches to take care of our poorly-housed. The problem is pervasive enough that each of us is going to have to lend a hand.
This could mean a shift in attitude is the first order of business.
The question is not, “What is wrong with those people?”
Noted author (and Catholic convert) G.K. Chesterton was among several writers of his time who were asked to submit an essay on the subject, “What is wrong with the world.”
Chesterton’s response was succinct: “Dear Sir, I am.”
Monday, March 10, 2008
Trying To Be Nicer, But So Difficult To Turn Away
As a man who feels deeply and thoroughly commissioned by God as a missionary of Divine mercy, I recognize complications in my role as a “foul-caller” regarding the pathetic treatment of people seeking assistance from my town’s homeless shelter where I worked for a year and saw ridiculous undignified and disrespectful treatment launched against scores of people, and tried to tone down the impact of this offensive conduct against vulnerable people.
You see how easy it is for me to use “Divine mercy” and “ridiculous” “offensive conduct” in the same sentence.
That is, indeed, the complication. On the one hand I am bound by faith and conscience to express the mercy of God. On the other, I am bound by faith and conscience to speak up when I observe injustice against another. The former involves the sanctity of my responsibility to God, and the latter involves my responsibility to the sanctity of life as flows out of my relationship with God.
These don’t ride together very comfortably in the backseat of my car.
Some of my advisors – very helpful and wonderful people in my life – want me to nicen things up. I like being liked, but this wrong-doing at the shelter is too horrible to turn away from.
I still need to deal with a question: What is the role of a man of mercy who sees Person A beating Person B? Stop the beating? I think so.
I believe that the person or people responsible for bewilderingly poor treatment of people at the Volunteers of America Sheridan Community Homeless Shelter have perhaps slowed down and thought twice before treating vulnerable people dismissively, patronizingly, and even unauthorizedly and unadvisedly diagnosing people as being mentally ill … to their faces.
They are being watched. This is a good thing. Maybe 2008 will only be half as cruel as was 2007, or 2006, or 2005, or …
You see how easy it is for me to use “Divine mercy” and “ridiculous” “offensive conduct” in the same sentence.
That is, indeed, the complication. On the one hand I am bound by faith and conscience to express the mercy of God. On the other, I am bound by faith and conscience to speak up when I observe injustice against another. The former involves the sanctity of my responsibility to God, and the latter involves my responsibility to the sanctity of life as flows out of my relationship with God.
These don’t ride together very comfortably in the backseat of my car.
Some of my advisors – very helpful and wonderful people in my life – want me to nicen things up. I like being liked, but this wrong-doing at the shelter is too horrible to turn away from.
I still need to deal with a question: What is the role of a man of mercy who sees Person A beating Person B? Stop the beating? I think so.
I believe that the person or people responsible for bewilderingly poor treatment of people at the Volunteers of America Sheridan Community Homeless Shelter have perhaps slowed down and thought twice before treating vulnerable people dismissively, patronizingly, and even unauthorizedly and unadvisedly diagnosing people as being mentally ill … to their faces.
They are being watched. This is a good thing. Maybe 2008 will only be half as cruel as was 2007, or 2006, or 2005, or …
Saturday, March 8, 2008
The Third Homless Person I Ever Met -- Part 2
I was 25, and all the college kids with me were 19-23. Kyle was just a little older than I was, but he was certainly the interesting person among us. The students really had no idea that people lived like Kyle did. The kids were all career-bound, taking a big break out of their summer to spend a month in the mountains at Bear Trap Ranch.
My carload of people thought it was pretty neat that we had brought Kyle with us. The manager and staff of Bear Trap Ranch were not as impressed.
I was hauled into the office and exposed to words like “dangerous,” and “quiet,” and “unpredictable,” and “shouldn’t have.”
I said I would take full responsibility for Kyle’s behavior for the days he would be with us (Saturday evening through Friday morning).
I advised Kyle to relax and to try to absorb the scenery and the kind spirits of the people around him. He was welcome to attend our Bible studies and worship times, most of which he elected to bypass. I also told him that if he became uncomfortable with anyone or with the camp in general, I would run him back downtown.
The Old Stage Road, which was in fair shape for a dirt road, didn’t make this a very easy trip, but it could be done with good shocks on a dry day.
We did all we could to learn what had caused Kyle’s situation, but it was a real tangle of bad luck, irresponsibility, the wrong friends, drug abuse, parents washing their hands of him, lack of communication, and, ultimately, no one who was good for him in his life.
In a few days we were to drop off Kyle in the Springs, and in a few more days, all of us at the camp would be packing to return to where we came from.
I wanted to see Kyle’s life get turned around in less than six days, and knew it was impossible. What was a young man like me, who carried with him the mercy of God, to do in light of Kyle’s very foreign-seeming and broken life. My answer was, “everything I can,” even though the “everything” didn’t come in a very big container.
We all pitched in some cash and I was to give it to Kyle when I dropped him off. I had called several social services to see if anyone could follow up with this guy. There was a shelter of some sort operated by a big man who bought his T-shirts too small.
I was alone with Kyle when I took him to this shelter.
He said he didn’t want to go there.
I didn’t ask why. I just said, “Where to, then?”
“Bus station, I guess.”
“The kids have $200 for you,” I said.
Back then that was a month’s rent.
Kyle said thanks, and I drove him to the bus station. I went in with him to say goodbye.
“What will you do?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, smiling. “I never know.”
We shook hands and I stepped back to leave.
“You’ve been good to me,” he said.
“You’ve been good for me,” I said.
My carload of people thought it was pretty neat that we had brought Kyle with us. The manager and staff of Bear Trap Ranch were not as impressed.
I was hauled into the office and exposed to words like “dangerous,” and “quiet,” and “unpredictable,” and “shouldn’t have.”
I said I would take full responsibility for Kyle’s behavior for the days he would be with us (Saturday evening through Friday morning).
I advised Kyle to relax and to try to absorb the scenery and the kind spirits of the people around him. He was welcome to attend our Bible studies and worship times, most of which he elected to bypass. I also told him that if he became uncomfortable with anyone or with the camp in general, I would run him back downtown.
The Old Stage Road, which was in fair shape for a dirt road, didn’t make this a very easy trip, but it could be done with good shocks on a dry day.
We did all we could to learn what had caused Kyle’s situation, but it was a real tangle of bad luck, irresponsibility, the wrong friends, drug abuse, parents washing their hands of him, lack of communication, and, ultimately, no one who was good for him in his life.
In a few days we were to drop off Kyle in the Springs, and in a few more days, all of us at the camp would be packing to return to where we came from.
I wanted to see Kyle’s life get turned around in less than six days, and knew it was impossible. What was a young man like me, who carried with him the mercy of God, to do in light of Kyle’s very foreign-seeming and broken life. My answer was, “everything I can,” even though the “everything” didn’t come in a very big container.
We all pitched in some cash and I was to give it to Kyle when I dropped him off. I had called several social services to see if anyone could follow up with this guy. There was a shelter of some sort operated by a big man who bought his T-shirts too small.
I was alone with Kyle when I took him to this shelter.
He said he didn’t want to go there.
I didn’t ask why. I just said, “Where to, then?”
“Bus station, I guess.”
“The kids have $200 for you,” I said.
Back then that was a month’s rent.
Kyle said thanks, and I drove him to the bus station. I went in with him to say goodbye.
“What will you do?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, smiling. “I never know.”
We shook hands and I stepped back to leave.
“You’ve been good to me,” he said.
“You’ve been good for me,” I said.
Friday, March 7, 2008
The Third Homeless Person I Ever Met -- Part I
The third homeless person I ever met was Kyle.
It was 1982. I was two years out of college.
I was working at a month-long Christian discipleship camp for college students in the mountains west of Colorado Springs, Colo. Not far from Cripple Creek.
We spent some of our time talking to people in town. My group usually went to the town center – at the time a small park square, where a lot of drugs were dealt. Among us, we called it “The Pharmacy.”
You could watch kids with thick rolls of cash being passed to a guy who gave a nod to a guy on the other side of the park, etc.
Kyle wasn’t dealing, as he had no money. I talked to him behind a smoky sandwich grill and he told me he was homeless.
“What do you mean you are homeless?” I asked.
“I got no place to live,” he said.
“Well, where do you stay?”
“Me and some friends are staying in a vacant house right now… We broke in.” He answered my next question.
“What if you get caught?”
“Then I will stay in jail for a while, I guess.”
I have to admit, I was still naïve on the issue of homelessness. I had parents and grandparents and cousins and a girl friend and friends all over me, and none of them would let me drop to zero as far as living options. Didn't everybody have this?
I understand that, in the Orient, people who fall into the cracks for whatever reason are not expected to “insult” or “inconvenience” their family by seeking assistance for them. In their culture, this is not an acceptable option. Many of the homeless I have worked with have a similar situation – families and personal relationships are so broken up that no help is available from home. The situations are very different, but the outcome is the same.
Kyle was such a one. His “family” was made up of the strangers with which he shared a vacant house.
Kyle and I spent most of the afternoon together. I introduced him to some of the kids in my group. There was some level of trust built between Kyle and the group, such that I told him we were living at a lodge and some cabins in the mountains, and would he like to come with us and spend a few days.
Kyle said yes.
Continued tomorrow …
It was 1982. I was two years out of college.
I was working at a month-long Christian discipleship camp for college students in the mountains west of Colorado Springs, Colo. Not far from Cripple Creek.
We spent some of our time talking to people in town. My group usually went to the town center – at the time a small park square, where a lot of drugs were dealt. Among us, we called it “The Pharmacy.”
You could watch kids with thick rolls of cash being passed to a guy who gave a nod to a guy on the other side of the park, etc.
Kyle wasn’t dealing, as he had no money. I talked to him behind a smoky sandwich grill and he told me he was homeless.
“What do you mean you are homeless?” I asked.
“I got no place to live,” he said.
“Well, where do you stay?”
“Me and some friends are staying in a vacant house right now… We broke in.” He answered my next question.
“What if you get caught?”
“Then I will stay in jail for a while, I guess.”
I have to admit, I was still naïve on the issue of homelessness. I had parents and grandparents and cousins and a girl friend and friends all over me, and none of them would let me drop to zero as far as living options. Didn't everybody have this?
I understand that, in the Orient, people who fall into the cracks for whatever reason are not expected to “insult” or “inconvenience” their family by seeking assistance for them. In their culture, this is not an acceptable option. Many of the homeless I have worked with have a similar situation – families and personal relationships are so broken up that no help is available from home. The situations are very different, but the outcome is the same.
Kyle was such a one. His “family” was made up of the strangers with which he shared a vacant house.
Kyle and I spent most of the afternoon together. I introduced him to some of the kids in my group. There was some level of trust built between Kyle and the group, such that I told him we were living at a lodge and some cabins in the mountains, and would he like to come with us and spend a few days.
Kyle said yes.
Continued tomorrow …
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Glimmer of Hope: VOA Replaces Director's Supervisor
Volunteers of America made a good move recently by putting someone else in charge of supervising the director of the homeless shelter.
The former COO, happily, is no longer overlooking the shelter, and is off overlooking other aspects of VOA’s many programs. Good luck to those poor devils.
Pam, the new supervisor of the shelter director, is a strong manager, good communicator and personable. I have previously hailed the work of the WySTAR substance abuse treatment program in my town, and, you should know that Pam has been (and continues to be) at the managerial helm of this program, which is successful and meaningful to a lot of people who have sought help to get away from alcohol or drug abuse.
So, this is a good thing. Yay.
Also, Pam is the only Volunteers of America officer who will give me the time of day. Everybody else is either pretending I don’t exist, or hoping I go away. Pam actually called today and wanted to talk AND listen.
I think I was heard. Good heavens, a new experience! A thank-you to Pam.
The former COO, happily, is no longer overlooking the shelter, and is off overlooking other aspects of VOA’s many programs. Good luck to those poor devils.
Pam, the new supervisor of the shelter director, is a strong manager, good communicator and personable. I have previously hailed the work of the WySTAR substance abuse treatment program in my town, and, you should know that Pam has been (and continues to be) at the managerial helm of this program, which is successful and meaningful to a lot of people who have sought help to get away from alcohol or drug abuse.
So, this is a good thing. Yay.
Also, Pam is the only Volunteers of America officer who will give me the time of day. Everybody else is either pretending I don’t exist, or hoping I go away. Pam actually called today and wanted to talk AND listen.
I think I was heard. Good heavens, a new experience! A thank-you to Pam.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Lack of Supervision Gives Director Free Reign
You wouldn’t think that something like a shelter director’s position would be under-supervised. Unlikely as it is, in these litigious days when everyone is watching everyone else, the shelter director’s position in my town is practically unsupervised. The director had “weekly” meetings about two or three times a month with her supervisor. She told him stuff, and that was it. His understanding of the shelter was based only on the information she gave him, rendering him completely unaware of problems, the like of which I have made record on this blog.
And, by the way, if anyone finds a word untrue on this site, let me know and I will remove it immediately.
The director’s supervisor, then known as the Chief of Operations, or Chief Operations Officer, or something else that spells coo, was onsite at the shelter only three times in 2007, by my own count – once to fire me, once to get his picture taken with the donation of a dead animal, and once possibly to be seen being there (I don’t know).
Plainly, the man was in no wise supervising and hadn’t a clue about the shelter’s operation. He had seen a few numbers on columns, though.
I think you have probably seen this kind of “administration,” where someone is left in charge, and as long as the place doesn’t burn down, it is assumed that all is well.
All is not well, as I pointed out to my supervisor, her supervisor, the board and CEO, and the national office of the Volunteers of America. Link by link this was my chain of command. Each time the response was either denial or silence … or deftless attacks on me.
I don’t personally need any attention. I like the life of a quiet, shy person. However, I am duty-bound by my faith to draw attention to injustice foisted upon vulnerable souls; to the sanctity of life and basic human dignity being toyed with by people who say they like to “help,” when they mean they like to “control.”
And, by the way, if anyone finds a word untrue on this site, let me know and I will remove it immediately.
The director’s supervisor, then known as the Chief of Operations, or Chief Operations Officer, or something else that spells coo, was onsite at the shelter only three times in 2007, by my own count – once to fire me, once to get his picture taken with the donation of a dead animal, and once possibly to be seen being there (I don’t know).
Plainly, the man was in no wise supervising and hadn’t a clue about the shelter’s operation. He had seen a few numbers on columns, though.
I think you have probably seen this kind of “administration,” where someone is left in charge, and as long as the place doesn’t burn down, it is assumed that all is well.
All is not well, as I pointed out to my supervisor, her supervisor, the board and CEO, and the national office of the Volunteers of America. Link by link this was my chain of command. Each time the response was either denial or silence … or deftless attacks on me.
I don’t personally need any attention. I like the life of a quiet, shy person. However, I am duty-bound by my faith to draw attention to injustice foisted upon vulnerable souls; to the sanctity of life and basic human dignity being toyed with by people who say they like to “help,” when they mean they like to “control.”
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
'Homeless' and 'Hopeless' Only One Letter Apart
Hope is a casualty of homelessness.
The photograph to the right, under the word “Broken” is worth the 1,000-plus words it would take to describe what the downcast, ashamed, lost look that this young man expresses with his face and body language.
Yet, in the face of homelessness, all is not lost. Hope does not have to throw itself under a bus. Jesus Himself was homeless for a time, and in His experience is the implicit statement that He knows the ills and the hollowness and the pain of belonging nowhere and to no one, except His Father in Heaven.
I know a man who lost his home in the Katrina storm. He told me, “Once I got through that, I figured I could get through anything.”
Then, his wife died of cancer. Again, “Once I got through that, I figured I could get through anything.”
Then, with everything he had left in a van, while driving in Florida, he was in an accident and the van caught fire.
He stood on the roadside with nothing but whatever was in his pants pockets.
“Now that I have gone through that, I can go through anything,” he said.
He had the faith and the character to embrace something larger than life as an anchor.
He had, and still has, the understanding of God’s presence, which supercedes all losses. With this, he was able to keep a hold on hope. He could have given up, but he didn’t, because he was aware of something, or Someone, larger than all his misfortune.
It is often true that someone else must come along and provide hope for the one who cannot muster it. Each of us has enough hope in us to share. No hoarding, now!
The photograph to the right, under the word “Broken” is worth the 1,000-plus words it would take to describe what the downcast, ashamed, lost look that this young man expresses with his face and body language.
Yet, in the face of homelessness, all is not lost. Hope does not have to throw itself under a bus. Jesus Himself was homeless for a time, and in His experience is the implicit statement that He knows the ills and the hollowness and the pain of belonging nowhere and to no one, except His Father in Heaven.
I know a man who lost his home in the Katrina storm. He told me, “Once I got through that, I figured I could get through anything.”
Then, his wife died of cancer. Again, “Once I got through that, I figured I could get through anything.”
Then, with everything he had left in a van, while driving in Florida, he was in an accident and the van caught fire.
He stood on the roadside with nothing but whatever was in his pants pockets.
“Now that I have gone through that, I can go through anything,” he said.
He had the faith and the character to embrace something larger than life as an anchor.
He had, and still has, the understanding of God’s presence, which supercedes all losses. With this, he was able to keep a hold on hope. He could have given up, but he didn’t, because he was aware of something, or Someone, larger than all his misfortune.
It is often true that someone else must come along and provide hope for the one who cannot muster it. Each of us has enough hope in us to share. No hoarding, now!
Monday, March 3, 2008
The Second Homeless Person I Ever Met
The second homeless person I ever met was in Chicago in the summer of 1980.
The numbers seem small and my recollection good because I grew up in a small Wyoming town of no more than 2,000 people. If you were homeless in Greybull, you would have stuck out like paisley on stripes. Everybody had a place to stay, except for the occasional hobo, who would drift into town from the railroad tracks that defined the west edge of town, and maybe knock on a few doors for something to eat or some spending money.
Meeting someone with nothing to their name was a rarity for my time and place.
So here I was on Evans Avenue in Chicago at age 23. I was visiting a friend who worked during the day, so I did a lot of exploring along Evans, which was just a couple of blocks from my buddy’s apartment.
As a small-town kid, I enjoyed the thrum of the vast numbers of people all around me, and the persistence of normalcy I noticed along Evans. I remember the “Major Café,” with the “r” missing on the sign. I called it the “Majo” in my journal. There were small shops and people everywhere.
At one point, as I was walking along on my fourth or fifth day there, a shirtless thin black man with some gray in his beard walked toward me from the opposite direction. It would have been natural for us to pass.
He stepped gradually into my “lane” and we stopped, facing one another on the sidewalk; me feeling nothing other than curious.
“Hello sir,” he said to me. “You wouldn’t have any cash you could spare, would you? I am in a bad way.”
As a reflex I stuck my thumb in my hip pocket where my wallet was, but then realized I had no cash.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I only have traveler’s checks right now.” This was the truth.
“Alright,” the man said. “At least you talked to me.”
He gave me a quick embrace and said, “Thank you, anyway.”
I have never forgotten how deeply those words descended into my heart: “At least you talked to me.”
Hungry for food, but starving for kindness.
The numbers seem small and my recollection good because I grew up in a small Wyoming town of no more than 2,000 people. If you were homeless in Greybull, you would have stuck out like paisley on stripes. Everybody had a place to stay, except for the occasional hobo, who would drift into town from the railroad tracks that defined the west edge of town, and maybe knock on a few doors for something to eat or some spending money.
Meeting someone with nothing to their name was a rarity for my time and place.
So here I was on Evans Avenue in Chicago at age 23. I was visiting a friend who worked during the day, so I did a lot of exploring along Evans, which was just a couple of blocks from my buddy’s apartment.
As a small-town kid, I enjoyed the thrum of the vast numbers of people all around me, and the persistence of normalcy I noticed along Evans. I remember the “Major Café,” with the “r” missing on the sign. I called it the “Majo” in my journal. There were small shops and people everywhere.
At one point, as I was walking along on my fourth or fifth day there, a shirtless thin black man with some gray in his beard walked toward me from the opposite direction. It would have been natural for us to pass.
He stepped gradually into my “lane” and we stopped, facing one another on the sidewalk; me feeling nothing other than curious.
“Hello sir,” he said to me. “You wouldn’t have any cash you could spare, would you? I am in a bad way.”
As a reflex I stuck my thumb in my hip pocket where my wallet was, but then realized I had no cash.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I only have traveler’s checks right now.” This was the truth.
“Alright,” the man said. “At least you talked to me.”
He gave me a quick embrace and said, “Thank you, anyway.”
I have never forgotten how deeply those words descended into my heart: “At least you talked to me.”
Hungry for food, but starving for kindness.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Once upon a time there was this homeless shelter, ruled by an unkind queen
’T is a cruelty
To load a falling man.
The Bard of Avon’s observation can be cut and pasted into the crux of my concern about the poor treatment of the vulnerable at my town’s homeless shelter.
I grew up with fables about cruel kings and their unfortunate people; a merciless step-mother and two mean-spirited step-sisters; a malicious being forcing a princess to guess his name or else … and many more.
Later, reading some of the works of Roald Dahl to my older daughter, I once again ran into fictional persons with an affinity for cruelty who were put in charge of others – most notoriously, Miss Trunchbull, the school-master in Matilda, who behaved despicably toward children and kindly teachers, whom she considered weak.
It is, as Shakepeare points out, cruel to add misery to a person in dire straits (the circumstances, not the band). It is sad and wrong-headed to bring anguish to people while telling them you are only trying to help, and that you know what is best for them.
The Sheridan Community Homeless Shelter would make a great fictional tale, but, is instead a sad reality.
To load a falling man.
The Bard of Avon’s observation can be cut and pasted into the crux of my concern about the poor treatment of the vulnerable at my town’s homeless shelter.
I grew up with fables about cruel kings and their unfortunate people; a merciless step-mother and two mean-spirited step-sisters; a malicious being forcing a princess to guess his name or else … and many more.
Later, reading some of the works of Roald Dahl to my older daughter, I once again ran into fictional persons with an affinity for cruelty who were put in charge of others – most notoriously, Miss Trunchbull, the school-master in Matilda, who behaved despicably toward children and kindly teachers, whom she considered weak.
It is, as Shakepeare points out, cruel to add misery to a person in dire straits (the circumstances, not the band). It is sad and wrong-headed to bring anguish to people while telling them you are only trying to help, and that you know what is best for them.
The Sheridan Community Homeless Shelter would make a great fictional tale, but, is instead a sad reality.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
All She Wanted Was For His Things To Help Others
When I moved to Sheridan in 1986, he was one of the first people I met who made me feel welcome.
He was a retired Army colonel; a gentle, deeply devotional man.
He always had a cheerful, thoughtful comment. We often talked of faith.
He wore out dozens of rosaries while praying in church. When I joined in my 40s, he helped sponsor me, and he gave me a big black rosary as a welcoming gift.
I knew him for almost 20 years before he died three years ago, at age 89.
It took his wife two years to summon the courage to depart with some of his things.
She called me one evening and asked what would happen to her husband’s clothes if she donated them to the shelter. I told her it was my understanding that they would be given to people who needed them.
“As long as they help someone else,” she said. “I think he would have liked that.”
She asked me to come by and pick up the things she had made ready.
She would not let anything go that was damaged in any way. I filled up my car with boxes and armfuls of jackets, shirts, pants, shoes, hats and coats.
Some of these I recognized as his.
I took these to the Sheridan Community Shelter where I worked.
As it happened, this was the same time that the inadequate storage for donations was in serious need of organization. We were, the director decided, too full. As a result the donations in storage were trucked to the landfill in at least four huge loads.
I thought about his wife, and her hopes that his things would do someone else some good. We failed her, big time.
Thoughtful donations were shrugged off, much like many of the people who stop at the shelter for help. They, too, are discarded.
Which is easier to throw away? A jacket or a person. At this shelter, both are treated the same.
He was a retired Army colonel; a gentle, deeply devotional man.
He always had a cheerful, thoughtful comment. We often talked of faith.
He wore out dozens of rosaries while praying in church. When I joined in my 40s, he helped sponsor me, and he gave me a big black rosary as a welcoming gift.
I knew him for almost 20 years before he died three years ago, at age 89.
It took his wife two years to summon the courage to depart with some of his things.
She called me one evening and asked what would happen to her husband’s clothes if she donated them to the shelter. I told her it was my understanding that they would be given to people who needed them.
“As long as they help someone else,” she said. “I think he would have liked that.”
She asked me to come by and pick up the things she had made ready.
She would not let anything go that was damaged in any way. I filled up my car with boxes and armfuls of jackets, shirts, pants, shoes, hats and coats.
Some of these I recognized as his.
I took these to the Sheridan Community Shelter where I worked.
As it happened, this was the same time that the inadequate storage for donations was in serious need of organization. We were, the director decided, too full. As a result the donations in storage were trucked to the landfill in at least four huge loads.
I thought about his wife, and her hopes that his things would do someone else some good. We failed her, big time.
Thoughtful donations were shrugged off, much like many of the people who stop at the shelter for help. They, too, are discarded.
Which is easier to throw away? A jacket or a person. At this shelter, both are treated the same.
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