Dear Anonymous,
Sometimes the body fails. And there you are on the street. No where to go. No way to clean up or change.
It's like this sometimes.
A blanket (thank you Dear Anonymous) a new, clean pair of pants (thank you Dear Anonymous) and a coffee card go some distance to supporting a fragile moment. Mike, like all of us would like to be seen in our 'best' moments. But Mike has the heart to share how it is too...when things are not 'best'. Thank you. May you know some comfort today. Some solace from pain. Some relief.
Struggling. Stresses mount up. Smaller stresses connect to larger stresses. To traumas...
Dear Anonymous,
Struggling. Stresses mount up. Smaller stresses connect to larger stresses. To traumas. Become unmanageable. Highly charged. And then it's desperate. Simply what it looks like from here. Behind my mask.
Racing ahead in established patterns and trying to push pause in newer ones. The drama on the street. The drama in a heart. How we escalate and stand convicted to our efforts and then add escalation in defense. Simply what it looks like from here. Behind my mask. I recognize this thing we humans do. Heartache on the corner.
This is Mike. This morning he had this smile. Always good to see him sporting a smile...
Dear Anonymous,
This is Mike. This morning he had this smile. Always good to see him sporting a smile. The alternative can be as grim as this is uplifting.
Lots of water handed out. Appreciation for a coffee card. A pair of socks. Some looking quite content and pleased. Some in pretty rough shape. No one wearing masks anymore. Not even an effort. Except for those using the bus. They tell me they can't ride without one.
There is one. One who shys away from any group at all though on his own speaks as a gentleman. Says he's working on getting into rehab. Says he hopes it's next week. He says ' I'm killin' myself out here.' And he looks worse each day. Scars across his face where he has fallen. He blames his bum knee but he and I and his street pals all know it's more that that. I believe he has good shelter overnight. But he roams from early morning. Leaning on his cane. The lines on his face deepening each day. And the sticky strands of whatever demons follow him are thick in the air as he turns the corner.
From a distance. A world upended. Bus schedules changing. Caseworkers availability...
Dear Anonymous,
From a distance. A world upended. Bus schedules changing. Caseworkers availability changing. Court dates changing. A general hunger for contact. The same stories of stolen backpacks and lost gear. Things left here. And there. How did we all get here. How do we stay. Some have left like an electron skipping into another orbit and they disappear. I wonder where they all are. I hear from some. Struggling with depression and anxiety and their affection for drugs that help quell those demons. And on we go. Walking one another home from 6' away. But still walking.
Drive by birthday wish for Mike this morning. Complete with brownies and coffee cake handed over to share...
Dear Anonymous,
Drive by birthday wish for Mike this morning. Complete with brownies and coffee cake handed over to share, badass bandana masks for the crew and coffee cards. (and this image from a zoom lens)
The mood was sour at first, filled with his frustration that an incentive check had not arrived in his account, but turned lighter as I read him his birthday well wishes that many of you left here yesterday. He smiled as I shouted out the messages and he nodded his head with each. Thank you.
So, it's this guys birthday tomorrow.
So, it's this guys birthday tomorrow. Hoping for a completely socially distant and conscientiously masked sighting to wish him an auspicious circle around the sun.
I don't know but I listen from a distance. Briefly. I know they crave more time...
Dear Anonymous,
Many folks out on the street are getting hotel rooms provided by the City. ( I do not know the details or the policy so I apologize if I am incorrect about who is providing what) I hear if you do not have a State ID you will not be admitted to the hotel. This is a problem for some. Others are well hunkered down at Milestone (thank you Milestone Foundation) at night and are wandering during the day as best they can without any place to land.
Several men mentioned how hard it is not to have people around to speak with. More difficulty getting in touch with caseworkers. Of more than the usual stigma around homelessness. I don't know but I listen from a distance. Briefly. I know they crave more time. Mental stability does not seem to be prospering. There was one story of someone self immolating behind a convenience store yesterday. I pray this is not true.
Mike is headed to shelter for a week and wanted to thank whoever it was that provided these masks at Preble Street.
Remembering a comment from a MaineWorks employee last winter. A man from the County Jail pre-release program who said:
How we treat our most vulnerable members of society speaks to the quality of our society.
Powerful words.
This image was photographed 6+ feet away and was an exceedingly brief check-in as I filled my car with gas.
The luxury of sheltering in place. The luxury of staying at home. The luxury of having food delivered. The luxury.
The luxury of sheltering in place. The luxury of staying at home. The luxury of having food delivered. The luxury.
It's a wonky world and the street this morning reflected the wonkiness.
Dear Anonymous,
It's a wonky world and the street this morning reflected the wonkiness. An overdose by a young man I don't know well. He survived. The police none too happy when I tried to see who it was. I can say they did great job at securing his privacy and anonymity, maybe less a great job at public relations.
The Reader, a man we know out here living on the streets who is also a voracious reader, had his bicycle hit by a truck when it was parked and locked at a telephone pole. Super glad he wasn’t ON it.
Everybody a bit edgy.
Coffee cards and loving admonishments 'to wash your hands.'
They are doing elbow taps and not handshakes.
The virus another stressor. ANOTHER inconvenience. ANOTHER thing to deal with.
And still there was love. Each of them signing off this morning with 'Love ya'.'
That hasn't been cancelled.
A customer at the coffee shop, a regular, says to Mike, 'I know the solution to homelessness. A pine box.'
Dear Anonymous,
A customer at the coffee shop, a regular, says to Mike,
'I know the solution to homelessness.
A pine box.'
I imagine being on the sidewalk and being told the solution to my problem is my death.
Another regular customer walks over to my car and quietly hands me $100 with no fanfare for coffee cards and thanks Dear Anonymous. Thank YOU Dear Anonymous.
Meanwhile Mike was offered a job too good to be true yesterday and is trying to gauge his excitement against the risk of disappointment.
Knowing that something that seems too good to be true is often too good to be true.
His hat today gets my attention. A hat with good boundaries.
A Dear Anonymous sent a box of hand warmers, and on this cold morning they were deeply appreciated. Thick warm socks were too. An additional layer of fleece, or a sweatshirt....maybe a clean pair of pants. A hot cup of coffee. A moment at least off the street to settle down. Quiet down. Thanks everyone.
Mike is telling us about distributing toys again up at the family shelter.
Dear Anonymous,
Mike is telling us about distributing toys again up at the family shelter.
'It got too GIMME GIMME so I stopped and came back a bit later. Told the kids and the parents that it was gonna be 'PLEASE' and 'THANK YOU'. But it's hard. Everyone wants something and I only got so much.'
And that, he says, is echoed out here. And I agree. There is never enough. There is always the voice of MORE and I NEED and GIMME. Always the reality that this particular resource could dry up overnight.
This morning, though, I also hear the voices of appreciation. Of gratitude. Of relief.
Thank you. Those that have recently donated clothing and jackets and backpacks please know that it has all found homes out here.
Mike is stocked up this morning from donations we delivered...
Dear Anonymous,
Mike is stocked up this morning from donations we delivered
( thank you Robin Lynn Herrick and Dear Anonymous ) and ready to distribute the dolls, stuffed animals, legos, HotWheels, dolls and coloring books. It's challenging to hand them out with kids and parents so needy he says. Not everyone exhibits exemplar behavior. But he works it out.
And the arrival of the items never fails to illicit smiles from Mike. That inner kid shows up in him. And me too. We pick up each toy and ooooo and ahhhhh over them.
Another lovely man from the streets stops by to thank us for the fleece hats the two young ladies at Portland High School made for the community last month.
He smiles. A big warm, engaging smile and says
'It's my granddaughter's favorite hat. It's blue. She calls it her 'Smurf Hat'. Thank you....'
Those two girls were able to offer something to this man that he could gift to his grandchildren. He hasn't forgotten.
Thank you Dear Anonymous. Thank you.
He delivers toys we gather to the family shelter. Largely, as he describes, an immigrant population...
Dear Anonymous,
He delivers toys we gather to the family shelter. Largely, as he describes, an immigrant population. Someone in the street population accuses him of being racist.
'You only give to THEM.'
He states 'I deliver to KIDS. I had a swastika tattoo the size of a fist on my chest for years. It's covered now with a heart. A BIG heart. I deliver to KIDS'.
He asks if it's okay to deliver to other groups by which he means non-immigrant populations. Of course, it's a decision he can make.
'I'll split them then.'
Mike has been open about his racist past. How it began. How it was cultivated. How it wounded him deeply. And how he changed. And what helps heal. He noted the irony of being labeled a 'racist' in this situation. But it shook him.
'I wanna help KIDS. Not black kids. Or white kids. Just KIDS.'
When I show up this morning Mike runs over to tell me about the woman inside the coffee shop.
Dear Anonymous,
When I show up this morning Mike runs over to tell me about the woman inside the coffee shop. He is a little agitated. Upset about it.
Mike says:
'She was out here cryin', like really cryin' before they opened. She was so cold. So I was about to hand her my blanket and she said 'I can give you a blow job if I can have that blanket.'
I was like 'TAKE the blanket. We're all set.' So, please, can we please set her up with some stuff? I mean imagine the life she's leading that she thought she had to do that to get a blanket?'
We pack a backpack (thank you #maggiesmission) with new socks, a coat, personal hygiene products, hand warmers. A coffee card. Mike hands it to her. No strings attached.
She sits quietly by herself inside. All the guys giving her space. She has the new coat on her lap and wrapped around her legs. She is sipping a hot drink. A hand on the shoulder and 'You all set?' and she looks up fragile and translucent. Broken and crystal clear all at once. and she manages a sweet smile and an airy 'Thank you.'
Thank you Dear Anonymous. You think a coffee card can't save a life?
The streets are full of despair. And... THIS.
Dear Anonymous,
The streets are full of despair. And... THIS. Two men who met on the floor of the shelter, sleeping within an inch of one another years ago. Ready to kill one another as the flailed about in their sleep. Two men I would NOT want to mess with. They are reminiscing this morning over their less than auspicious meeting...and about their enduring friendship.
Respect. Decency. Brotherly love. You name it. It was in the air.
Mike's friend? He will only take what he needs. No more. In his rich baritone voice says, when I offer him new socks: 'No, no,no,no. We need to leave this for the rest of the community who needs it more.'
Mike is set up with a wheelie bag (thank you #maggiesmission) filled with toys and kids' backpacks to hand out at the shelter.
Dear Anonymous,
Mike is set up with a wheelie bag (thank you #maggiesmission) filled with toys and kids' backpacks to hand out at the shelter. He tells me he is going to try and get some photos of the kids receiving the toys, with permission. He has already asked and is aware that some families do not wish to be photographed.
He was soooo excited.
We've been trying to get dolls of color and dolls of women in careers. This one is a National Geographic explorer.
Hard to tell on this exchange who is happier. The kids? Mike? Me? Us? Dear anonymous's? A win-win-win-win-win.
There is a sub story here about the friction, at times, between the local homeless and the immigrant population. About race.
Enough to say that it's a big healing and profoundly unexpected gift for Mike, now Uncle Mikey, to hand a young black girl from Somalia a dark skinned Barbie doll. And everyone...EVERYONE...is smiling. This is a dream of Mike's. Thank you for helping make it happen.
Planning on a delivery of toys to the family shelter on Saturday.
Dear Anonymous,
Planning on a delivery of toys to the family shelter on Saturday.
He shares,'The kids call me 'Uncle Mikey'. I asked the kids if I should deliver to a few of them or wait 'til the weekend when all the kids are there. They told me 'When ALL the kids are here!' That's what these little kids told me. When they are all there. So, I'm gonna listen to them.I told the parents who are all 'Gimme gimme gimme ‘ that it's 'Please may I....' and it's 'Thank you.' around here.'
A little bit of a prayer and blessing right there.
I little bit of the saint and sinner rubbing elbows within each of us.
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.
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.
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.