Dear Anonymous,
Somewhere in Massachusetts a kind, 80+ year old woman knits hats for us. Hope she gets to see this man's response to it.
It is a bit bitter out here this morning. He wants very little and turns down most of what we have.
'Do you have a hat?' he asked.
And that spark I felt when I could say 'Yes. Yes, we do.'
Knit just for you.
Thank you Dear Anonymous.
Someone says 'Good Morning' and asks to speak privately.
Dear Anonymous,
Someone says 'Good Morning' and asks to speak privately.
I grow concerned.
He takes me aside and whispers 'Do you have any boxer briefs?' And yes, I say, yes yes yes and I have never been so happy as to hand a man a new pair of boxers in the middle of Commercial Street.
I remember being so penniless as a young woman that hygiene products became difficult and then impossible to purchase. There is no one I knew at that time that I could have whispered in their ear and had them just hand me those items. So, it is with a certain joy that I hand him boxers and he may wonder why that made me so damn happy but the correlation is close enough to my heart.
Someone else stops by looking for a hot cup of coffee.
Their gear...all their life's stuff in a very used looking black garbage bag tied with a knot on the sidewalk. Need a backpack? Yes, his eyes light up. Thank you #maggiesmission.
Meanwhile Mike discusses the recent donation of big block legos and toy tables that he wants to get up to the Family Shelter.
Thank you Dear Anonymous.
And that part of us, sometimes obscure and locked away, that part of each of us no matter what, that is mother, sits close by when the wind is up.
Dear Anonymous,
Rock-a bye baby / on the tree top. / When the wind blows / the cradle will rock. / When the bough breaks, / the cradle will fall. / And down will come Baby, / Cradle and all.
And that part of us, sometimes obscure and locked away, that part of each of us no matter what, that is mother, sits close by when the wind is up. With arms open. And a good catch.
No strings attached.
Socks? Coffee card? Hand warmers. Sure thing.
Thank you Dear Anonymous.
I don't ever know the whole story.
Dear Anonymous,
I don't ever know the whole story. He works at a hotel he says. Was evicted recently from an apartment now being renovated. Has a city housing voucher. Cannot find a rental in Portland with that voucher. Used the hotel bathroom where he works. Suspended from work as a result.
A coffee card. A pair of socks, he said helps.
'Thank you god bless you thank you god bless you.' and he beams a smile.
And returns to the conundrum.
Survivor. Sinner with the heart of a saint.
Dear Anonymous,
Survivor. Sinner with the heart of a saint. Saint and stumbler. New medication for seizures. Girlfriend who has accomplished the near impossible and highly unlikely: getting off the streets into an apartment and made it one year.
A life held together with string and tape, rusted exhaust and alignment issues. And in that ball of twisted twine and old band aids flapping off, in that jenga puzzle of nicotine stained fingers and scars across his scalp is a heart that beats to a tune of survival and redemption. Of desperate need and self sufficiency. Human. Hurt. Life not letting go. Room despite it all for love.
Sunday morning sermon with an almost empty bottle.
Dear Anonymous,
Sunday morning sermon with an almost empty bottle. Tears and laughter and a manic slide between the two. Grateful thanks and deep hurts. A hurt clanging like a broken muffler down cobblestone embedded in the monologue. A preaching of love and pain and anger and woundedness. But what's that? My projection.
He raises his bottle. I raise my coffee cup and we cheer beauty and despair, that odd couple we hang with.
One of you Dear Anonymous's dropped off big heavy down coats yesterday and they were a hit to say the least.
Dear Anonymous,
One of you Dear Anonymous's dropped off big heavy down coats yesterday and they were a hit to say the least. And new. And there was a dignity to that. Yes, they'd accept anything to stay warm...tattered, torn, stained and broken. But a new coat? Just for them? And warm? They stood up a bit taller. Some of them traded in lighter weight coats I had yesterday for the heavier ones. When they were gone the lighter weight ones moved coupled with fleece lined hoodies.
Hot coffee. Hand warmers. Socks.
Many thank you's that I need to convey to all of you.
And then his eyes. That remind me, that amplify, that this is someone's son. Someones child. I hope that at some point someone held him with ferocious love. Swaddled him warm and just right to comfort him. Beamed at him when he smiled at them.
'Would you like a piece of coffee cake?' I ask.
He says 'You have no idea....'
And reaches into the basket, always meager in relation to the need, and puts his hand around one.
He is not one to want to be in a photograph. But this morning he gives permission.
Dear Anonymous,
He is not one to want to be in a photograph. But this morning he gives permission. His quiet and stately voice gracious for a cup of hot coffee. Some socks. And two beautiful handmade fleece hats for his grandchildren...made by two Portland High School Students for those experiencing homelessness with a grant from Painting For A Purpose.
He has something beautiful and useful to offer his grandkids.
THAT is something. Something real.
Great outcome. Thank you dear Anonymous , Painting For A Purpose, Portland High School students and faculty. - with Tina Clark Edwards
He was shy but wanted to say thank you. So he donned a hat and gave me permission to photograph his sweet face.
Dear Anonymous,
This morning at zero degrees these handmade felt hats, made by two students from Portland High School with a grant from Painting For A Purpose, were a big hit.
He was shy but wanted to say thank you. So he donned a hat and gave me permission to photograph his sweet face. He was so cold when he showed up. Head down fists tight, looking like I do when the cold gets the better part of me and I am isolated in that pain.
Hot coffee. A piece of coffee cake. A sweatshirt. And he's back out 'How can we thank them?' - with Tina Clark Edwards
He not only traded in a wool watch cap for this fleece hat, he asked to distribute some in the community.
Dear Anonymous,
This morning at zero degrees these handmade felt hats, made by two students from Portland High School with a grant from Painting For A Purpose, were a big hit.
He not only traded in a wool watch cap for this fleece hat, he asked to distribute some in the community. The students made hats in different sizes from infant to adult, in all different colors.
'It gives me something good to do. I know where people hang out. Who need hats. Gives me a way to give back a little, make up for my past a little bit. How can we thank these kids for doing this? Tell them they have warmed my heart. Restored some faith. Helped put together what was a little broken in me.'
All of us. Searching for a bit of redemption. - with Tina Clark Edwards
Lots of smiles out here this morning despite the awful cold.
Dear Anonymous,
This morning at zero degrees these handmade felt hats, made by two students from Portland High School with a grant from Painting For A Purpose, were a big hit.
The guys I encountered loved them because they were so warm and comfortable but also because they were moved that young students had taken an interest and were motivated to actually make these for them. Lots of smiles out here this morning despite the awful cold.
Hot coffee deeply appreciated as well.
Someone else donated this beautiful scarf and this gentleman was rockin' the look.
He wants a print of this so he can personally thank the students.
Thank you Dear Anonymous, Painting For A Purpose, Portland High School staff and students and the dear men this morning who want to say thank you. - with Tina Clark Edwards
This remarkable young woman and her friend, both students at Portland High School were awarded a grant from Painting For A Purpose...
Dear Anonymous,
This remarkable young woman and her friend, both students at Portland High School were awarded a grant from Painting For A Purpose, a nonprofit organization in Portland, Maine to make 50 fleece hats for those experiencing homelessness. This is what our youth chooses to do. Deep thanks and admiration to the students, teachers and Painting For A Purpose. The hats will be distributed via Dear Anonymous. - with Tina Clark Edwards
This remarkable young woman and her friend, both students at Portland High School were awarded a grant from Painting For A Purpose...
Dear Anonymous,
This remarkable young woman and her friend, both students at Portland High School were awarded a grant from Painting For A Purpose, a nonprofit organization in Portland, Maine to make 50 fleece hats for those experiencing homelessness. This is what our youth chooses to do. Deep thanks and admiration to the students, teachers and Painting For A Purpose. The hats will be distributed via Dear Anonymous. - with Tina Clark Edwards
Somedays, more than others, I feel this perpetually empty beak sensation.
Dear Anonymous,
Somedays, more than others, I feel this perpetually empty beak sensation. A gaping maw of the street. Arriving at the edge of the nest this morning and the beaks are wide open heads popping up throats extended. Desperately hungry. More. More . More. So hungry for this and for that. Never enough. Never able to be satisfied. Truly. How many coats do you hand to someone wondering where the others are. Stored. Sold. Broken.Zipper broken. Traded. Torn. Wrapped around the kid they pass sleeping on the bricks. In a trash can after a rainstorm. No way to dry it out.
Mike decided against traveling up county to a funeral. Tells me he had a private little memorial and good bye on his own. Avoiding a thousand triggers. We hand him another bag of toys for the family shelter. Puzzles, and hot wheels and building bricks. An antidote to the dreary day. A few children will have a slightly better day as a result. He may too.
Coffee cards and socks, thank you, are still what is most requested. And a new young man on the street, not dressed for life out here, collects a neck warmer and socks and sighs relief with the coffee card.
'Somewhere to go inside for a few minutes...thank you.'
Thank you Dear Anonymous.
He tells me about delivering the toys we gathered for him to distribute at the family shelter.
Dear Anonymous,
He tells me about delivering the toys we gathered for him to distribute at the family shelter. (thank you Dear Anonymous, thank you Robin Lynn Herrick)
''I was kinda' ambushed when I brought 'em in. It was the parents who were awful. Gimme. Gimme. Gimme. Not even a please. So I told 'em it wasn't gonna work like this. I wrapped everything up and left. Came back an hour later.
Had the parents off to the side. Divided the kids by age. Gave the littlest ones something first. The oldest last. The kids were good. A 13 year old girl was helpin' me. I got no problem with the kids."
"It feels good" he says, "to give them something to make their day a little better. They didn't ask to be out here."
His cousin, who he felt close to, has died as a result of suicide...
Dear Anonymous,
His cousin, who he felt close to, has died as a result of suicide and he is wrestling with that loss as well as the stress of connecting with family as a result. Difficult for him to figure out the right thing to do.
He promises me he'll be 'A good boy.' But between this moment and a funeral in Washington County a lot can happen.
A thousand triggers. A thousand reasons how things can go poorly. A thousand ways he could feel relieved and satisfied as well.
A young man comes over and asks where a certain car dealership is located. He shows me the ad from the paper and says 'They have $10,000 for me and a gift.'
It is of course a promotion. I tell him where the dealership is. I tell him I suspect that that ad is not what it seems.
He trys to figure out how to get there. Walk or bus?
Meanwhile a coffee card and some socks help. A muffin.
Every coat I had is gone. All the pants as well.
The never ending, ceaseless open beak and broken heart of the street.
Damn cold out here. He began by grumbling about the weather and the winter and riding a bike.
Dear Anonymous,
Damn cold out here. He began by grumbling about the weather and the winter and riding a bike. Riding a bike at zero degrees. Without proper gear. My feet pound with pain just imagining that.
But he offers this amazing smile and suddenly in that fraction of a second what could be so bad? Like a fractional moment of grace, of perfection, of beauty. And I am left speechless with that gift.
Our friend Mike, not pictured here, lost a family member yesterday by suicide. Leaving behind a wife and children. He has lost yet another. Family relations can be really complicated out here, if not everywhere, and he wrestles with the right thing to do. Foreseeing possible triggers for relapse.
Robin Lynn Herrick has arrived with bags of toys for him to deliver to the family shelter. He has expressed that's the thing that helps him stabilize. Helps him from derailing. And so, let there be toys.
It's hovering at zero degrees and my hands are pounding with pain. And all around me are smiles like this one from Charles.
Dear Anonymous,
It's hovering at zero degrees and my hands are pounding with pain. And all around me are smiles like this one from Charles. The whiskers around his mouth all frozen. Robin Lynn Herrick has arrived with a generous car load of resources at 6 AM on a Sunday morning and she is beaming and chatting with the guys. The guys out here who have been walking the streets since midnight are smiling. Concerned about my hands. And read that again. They are worried about MY hands. Good fckn' grief...they are out in this with little reprieve and I can barely tolerate it for moments at a time.
These coffee cards are divine. Warmth in the hand. Warmth in the belly. For at least a moment. Thick socks. A piece of coffee cake and a muffin. A new deodorant stick or a toothbrush. Little tiny graces. How often do they say 'This is a life saver.'? They say it often. Thank you Dear Anonymous.
Coffee cards tumble out over socks over a pair of warm pants or an extra layer. A hoodie. A jacket. The currency of connection.
Cold out there this morning and Mike was so happy with the handknit hat from a Dear Anonymous in Massachusetts.
Dear Anonymous,
Cold out there this morning and Mike was so happy with the handknit hat from a Dear Anonymous in Massachusetts. And the coats and hoodies and heavy shirts all flew out of the car. Backpacks always appreciated. If it's not because they are stolen it's because they break down easily with street use. Socks were sought after, thick, warm, thermal socks and that hot cup of coffee made all the difference to many. Hands wrapped around big steaming cups like a prayer.
Like a mudra.
And Mike beamed when he took a big bag of toys headed up to the family shelter. I'm pretty sure he gets the most out of the equation and he was excited once again like it was Christmas morning. He takes a couple of backpacks filled with kids mittens, hats and another with women's clothing. Thanks Dear Anonymous.
There were many thank you's this morning. And on a tough day when it's cold as hell and you're struggling to be warm and find a place to land for a moment before you are shooed on, the time and attention to offer that thank you is noted.I want to make sure all you who contribute recieve those thank you's.
One cup of coffee at a time.One pair of socks. The currency of connection.
Hunger on the streets. It's not that there are not sufficient social services providing food. Not my point here nor my expertise....
Dear Anonymous,
Hunger on the streets. It's not that there are not sufficient social services providing food. Not my point here nor my expertise.
I am talking hunger. For homemade. Made from scratch. Watched men just out of prison swoon to the flavor of real butter. Holding their wax paper cradle of cake or muffin like a sacrament.
Maybe it is a hunger for what may feel like home to some. Maybe a flavor of deinstitutionalized nourishment.
Always, always 'Is there more?'
Always. Always the eternal insatiable hunger.