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I wrote a little 'Story' it is fictional with lots of true facts. But it makes a pretty clear point. We all can make mistakes that lead to unfortunate circumstances and we all could come to a point pretty fast where we might need help. Pardon my English. I get better but it's still not perfect in writing :)
Feedback is always welcome!
It is cold, I can feel the cold deep into my bones. Everything hurts. I look at my watch, it is 6 am in the morning in the Tenderloin in San Francisco. Once again I only slept for 3hrs. Well if you can call that sleep. If all you got is a piece of cardboard and a thin blanket to cover yourself up. It was loud again. Firefighters, police, drunken tourists, drunken residents, junkies, prostitutes, dealers. Every day the same question in my mind, why did is happened to me? I was one of the good, still am. Manager of a big company, always wanted the benefit of my employees. But then this deal. I could not refuse it. I had to think of my family. So I took it. Shortly thereafter, all gone. Toxic assets. I lost my job, my wife took the kids and moved out. I started to drink. First a little, then more and more. Neglected, I started to hang out on the streets. After a while I liked it better on the streets in than my lonely apartment. The people were broken and addictive, but that did not bother me. I was now too. And after all, I had community here.
Eventually, I just went home only to shower or to get clean clothes. Then the letter from the Landlord. I have not paid the rent for three months and would get kicked out. I took the letter, tore it, grabbed my stuff and did not look back. That was 15 years ago. I'm not alcohol addicted anymore, but I like to drink now and then. I don't do drugs. I'm too afraid of needles or pills. My wife I've never seen again. My two children are grown up, they think I'm working abroad. Every now and then I'll call them. It breaks my heart to hear their voices and the voices of my grandchildren, I have never seen before. I can't think about that now. It's 6:15. I have to go. The line at the Glide Church is slowly forming. Breakfast. At Glide the people are ok, they try to help. Three meals a day, for anyone who wants and completely free. I'm not picky, not anymore. You learn to take everything and be grateful for everything. The line gets longer.
The radio man has just arrived. He has a soundsystem mounted on a stroller, has a microphone and music. He sounds like Barry White. He tells stories and plays music. Some dance, others stand still in the queue, others talk. I look around for Jared. Jared and I are friends. We first met 5 years ago. He came over here from Seattle. I helped him, he helped me. We look after each other. A week ago, he disappeared, just like that. Either he moved on, is in jail or dead. I dont know. Maybe he shows up today. Finally 7:00 clock breakfast. I take my breakfast and eat on the street. I can not sit inside. The caustic smell of sweat, alcohol, excrement makes me sick. Disgusts me. I do not smell better, but I try at least once a week to take a shower and to look after myself. Shave, wash, try to get deodorant somewhere and get a haircut. 9 clock. Today is Thursday. I'm going to YWAM across from Glide. YWAM is a Christian organization. Many foreigners work there. I mean this not racist, I only see people from all over the world working here. Indians, Europeans, Africans, Arabs, Americans. Most of them are really nice, helpful, believe in you, encourage people and offer to pray for you. I'm not spiritual or anything, but when you live on the street, you want to believe in the good in people, even if you lost your faith a long time ago. I let them pray every now and then for my family or for Jared. I don' want them to pray for me. At YWAM you can play pool, or sleep somewhere in the corner, read, playing the piano, going to the toilet, shower two times a week and once a week get a haircut. Today is Thursday. Today, you can take a shower. First come, first serve. The first people arrive and form a line in front of the Building, including me.
9:30 clock The doors are open and we all hurry to sign up for the shower. I'm third on the list. Not bad, I'm looking forward to a hot shower. I have clean clothes with me. The cold is still in my bones. Now I have to be careful not to fall asleep or nodding off. Your name is called, sometimes they come to you and tell you directly about it. But if you sleep or are careless you can lose your spot. I don't want that. I need a shower. The employees that don't work in the center are walking back and forth to their offices. They are nice. Sincerely always with a smile on their face. I like that. in The background you here quietly played gospel music. My name is called. "Ross, you can take a shower now," I do not hear my name often. On the road, you're the bum, the asshole, the lonely pig, the junkie. But not a person, not Ross. It's good to hear my name and to be acknowledged and recognized. At 12:00 clock the center closes. Freshly showered, shaved and with new clothes I'm on my way to St. Anthony's. Lunch. Because it tastes a little better than Glide. I walk down Leavenworth towards Golden Gate. The streets are dirty, full of trash. People lying on the street or block them. On Leavenworth all the Drug Dealers hang out. They call the street "Pill Hill" because everything is dealt out what you can imagine. from Prescription medication to any other drug you can imagine. I get offered morphine, crack, heroin, weed, cocaine, Ecxtasy all in a radius of 2 blocks. Madness.
2pm. I lie down at my favorite spot at Civic Center. The sun is shining today and it is warm. You can see city hall, the library and tourists. I fall asleep in the sun. A little later I hear voices. Hey, wake up. Get up. Come on, or I have to write you a ticket. The police, I wake up, I look up to them and mutter that I get myself ready. Most police officers are quite nice, just do their job. I smile friendly and go my way.
4:00pm I'm Sad. Sadness that I can share with anyone, because you have to be strong on the streets. You can't show weakness. But today I just want to cry. I still haven't seen Jared. I sit down offside from the San Francisco Opera and let my tears go. I have no photos of my family, so I draw them how I imagine my children and grandchildren. I look at the picture, pack it in my backpack and go to the corner store. I buy a large can of beer and sit down on the ground. It's time drink the hopelessness away
. Today, I will not eat again. At 6pm, I'm so drunk that I can hardly stand. I lie down in front of the YWAM Building. Here it is safe. The people that live and work here don't chase you away. On the contrary, they smile, they stop and talk to you. They wish you God's blessing and mean it. Some go in and come out a little later with snacks or a blanket, sometimes with a Bible.They believe in Jesus and live that but don't force you to believe also. They only wanna help and do something good. It's getting dark and it is very cold again. We sit together in a bulk of 10 different people. Everyone has a different story, another reason why they are here. But nobody talks about it much, we sit together and drink, some smoke the crack pipe. A young man, Jason, is a talented artist and paints everything he sees or imagines. Maya was classical opera singer. Voice broke, and the rest has run its course. And so you always hear such stories.
At 10pm I'm sober. I have no money, but I'm not begging. Sometimes I ask for a quarter but I don't like to do that. I walk to the Starbucks that open late. I want to use their bathroom. I'm coming in and smile friendly. But I still look like a bum, you cann smell the booze. Jamal knows me and let me always use the restroom. Today, he shakes his head. The manager is there, he can't let me use the bathroom. But quietly he hands me a coffee. Great I have to piss and he gives me coffee. I accept it gratefully, after all, it's cold. He wishes me a safe night and apologizes again. I find no restaurant or shop letting me go to the bathroom. So I have to go to the bathroom between the cars. I do not just pee, but I can no longer hold it. I have to do it. I'm ashamed.
I'm laying down at 11pm. Jared I haven't seen Jared all day. I hope he is doing well. It is very loud again. It's cold, but I got a sleeping bag today. I'm thinking. My mind is spinning. I hope tomorrow will be better.
Some may wonder why I don't look for a job and start a new life. I work every now and then. But with the apartment, it is not so easy. If you have a car you can specify an address and you get your check and a job easier. I do not even remember how it is to live in an apartment. I am one of 8000 plus homeless in San Francisco. My life is not easy, but others have it harder than me.
But now it is cold. Some homeless people I know died last winter on the street, they froze. Please pray for us, because I know as a Christian you do that! Please bring us blankets or something warm to drink. We really appreciate it!
Thank you that you do that!
Ross
Feedback is always welcome!
It is cold, I can feel the cold deep into my bones. Everything hurts. I look at my watch, it is 6 am in the morning in the Tenderloin in San Francisco. Once again I only slept for 3hrs. Well if you can call that sleep. If all you got is a piece of cardboard and a thin blanket to cover yourself up. It was loud again. Firefighters, police, drunken tourists, drunken residents, junkies, prostitutes, dealers. Every day the same question in my mind, why did is happened to me? I was one of the good, still am. Manager of a big company, always wanted the benefit of my employees. But then this deal. I could not refuse it. I had to think of my family. So I took it. Shortly thereafter, all gone. Toxic assets. I lost my job, my wife took the kids and moved out. I started to drink. First a little, then more and more. Neglected, I started to hang out on the streets. After a while I liked it better on the streets in than my lonely apartment. The people were broken and addictive, but that did not bother me. I was now too. And after all, I had community here.
Eventually, I just went home only to shower or to get clean clothes. Then the letter from the Landlord. I have not paid the rent for three months and would get kicked out. I took the letter, tore it, grabbed my stuff and did not look back. That was 15 years ago. I'm not alcohol addicted anymore, but I like to drink now and then. I don't do drugs. I'm too afraid of needles or pills. My wife I've never seen again. My two children are grown up, they think I'm working abroad. Every now and then I'll call them. It breaks my heart to hear their voices and the voices of my grandchildren, I have never seen before. I can't think about that now. It's 6:15. I have to go. The line at the Glide Church is slowly forming. Breakfast. At Glide the people are ok, they try to help. Three meals a day, for anyone who wants and completely free. I'm not picky, not anymore. You learn to take everything and be grateful for everything. The line gets longer.
The radio man has just arrived. He has a soundsystem mounted on a stroller, has a microphone and music. He sounds like Barry White. He tells stories and plays music. Some dance, others stand still in the queue, others talk. I look around for Jared. Jared and I are friends. We first met 5 years ago. He came over here from Seattle. I helped him, he helped me. We look after each other. A week ago, he disappeared, just like that. Either he moved on, is in jail or dead. I dont know. Maybe he shows up today. Finally 7:00 clock breakfast. I take my breakfast and eat on the street. I can not sit inside. The caustic smell of sweat, alcohol, excrement makes me sick. Disgusts me. I do not smell better, but I try at least once a week to take a shower and to look after myself. Shave, wash, try to get deodorant somewhere and get a haircut. 9 clock. Today is Thursday. I'm going to YWAM across from Glide. YWAM is a Christian organization. Many foreigners work there. I mean this not racist, I only see people from all over the world working here. Indians, Europeans, Africans, Arabs, Americans. Most of them are really nice, helpful, believe in you, encourage people and offer to pray for you. I'm not spiritual or anything, but when you live on the street, you want to believe in the good in people, even if you lost your faith a long time ago. I let them pray every now and then for my family or for Jared. I don' want them to pray for me. At YWAM you can play pool, or sleep somewhere in the corner, read, playing the piano, going to the toilet, shower two times a week and once a week get a haircut. Today is Thursday. Today, you can take a shower. First come, first serve. The first people arrive and form a line in front of the Building, including me.
9:30 clock The doors are open and we all hurry to sign up for the shower. I'm third on the list. Not bad, I'm looking forward to a hot shower. I have clean clothes with me. The cold is still in my bones. Now I have to be careful not to fall asleep or nodding off. Your name is called, sometimes they come to you and tell you directly about it. But if you sleep or are careless you can lose your spot. I don't want that. I need a shower. The employees that don't work in the center are walking back and forth to their offices. They are nice. Sincerely always with a smile on their face. I like that. in The background you here quietly played gospel music. My name is called. "Ross, you can take a shower now," I do not hear my name often. On the road, you're the bum, the asshole, the lonely pig, the junkie. But not a person, not Ross. It's good to hear my name and to be acknowledged and recognized. At 12:00 clock the center closes. Freshly showered, shaved and with new clothes I'm on my way to St. Anthony's. Lunch. Because it tastes a little better than Glide. I walk down Leavenworth towards Golden Gate. The streets are dirty, full of trash. People lying on the street or block them. On Leavenworth all the Drug Dealers hang out. They call the street "Pill Hill" because everything is dealt out what you can imagine. from Prescription medication to any other drug you can imagine. I get offered morphine, crack, heroin, weed, cocaine, Ecxtasy all in a radius of 2 blocks. Madness.
2pm. I lie down at my favorite spot at Civic Center. The sun is shining today and it is warm. You can see city hall, the library and tourists. I fall asleep in the sun. A little later I hear voices. Hey, wake up. Get up. Come on, or I have to write you a ticket. The police, I wake up, I look up to them and mutter that I get myself ready. Most police officers are quite nice, just do their job. I smile friendly and go my way.
4:00pm I'm Sad. Sadness that I can share with anyone, because you have to be strong on the streets. You can't show weakness. But today I just want to cry. I still haven't seen Jared. I sit down offside from the San Francisco Opera and let my tears go. I have no photos of my family, so I draw them how I imagine my children and grandchildren. I look at the picture, pack it in my backpack and go to the corner store. I buy a large can of beer and sit down on the ground. It's time drink the hopelessness away
. Today, I will not eat again. At 6pm, I'm so drunk that I can hardly stand. I lie down in front of the YWAM Building. Here it is safe. The people that live and work here don't chase you away. On the contrary, they smile, they stop and talk to you. They wish you God's blessing and mean it. Some go in and come out a little later with snacks or a blanket, sometimes with a Bible.They believe in Jesus and live that but don't force you to believe also. They only wanna help and do something good. It's getting dark and it is very cold again. We sit together in a bulk of 10 different people. Everyone has a different story, another reason why they are here. But nobody talks about it much, we sit together and drink, some smoke the crack pipe. A young man, Jason, is a talented artist and paints everything he sees or imagines. Maya was classical opera singer. Voice broke, and the rest has run its course. And so you always hear such stories.
At 10pm I'm sober. I have no money, but I'm not begging. Sometimes I ask for a quarter but I don't like to do that. I walk to the Starbucks that open late. I want to use their bathroom. I'm coming in and smile friendly. But I still look like a bum, you cann smell the booze. Jamal knows me and let me always use the restroom. Today, he shakes his head. The manager is there, he can't let me use the bathroom. But quietly he hands me a coffee. Great I have to piss and he gives me coffee. I accept it gratefully, after all, it's cold. He wishes me a safe night and apologizes again. I find no restaurant or shop letting me go to the bathroom. So I have to go to the bathroom between the cars. I do not just pee, but I can no longer hold it. I have to do it. I'm ashamed.
I'm laying down at 11pm. Jared I haven't seen Jared all day. I hope he is doing well. It is very loud again. It's cold, but I got a sleeping bag today. I'm thinking. My mind is spinning. I hope tomorrow will be better.
Some may wonder why I don't look for a job and start a new life. I work every now and then. But with the apartment, it is not so easy. If you have a car you can specify an address and you get your check and a job easier. I do not even remember how it is to live in an apartment. I am one of 8000 plus homeless in San Francisco. My life is not easy, but others have it harder than me.
But now it is cold. Some homeless people I know died last winter on the street, they froze. Please pray for us, because I know as a Christian you do that! Please bring us blankets or something warm to drink. We really appreciate it!
Thank you that you do that!
Ross
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