Clueless? Confused? Cruel?

I walked around a swanky Portland, OR mall, seething. The irony of me parking Tillie in swanky mall parking lots, my grungy, road-weary motorhome/office bearing signage referring to homelessness, usually makes me chuckle. Not tonight.

Earlier I had a conversation with a long-time friend who is, um, worlds apart from me in some ways. She's a financial planner. I'm a former shelter director turned national activist-filmmaker for homeless families and youth. Our paths crossed at the shelter I ran. "Jackie" led her church's group of volunteers who served on a monthly basis.

The conversation that has me (still) seething was irrelevant, except when Jackie sorta snapped at me as I expressed hesitation to raise postage on our HEAR US stuff because, well, I don't want to gouge our customers. "The economy isn't doing as bad as people say," snarled my Republican friend, who went on to say if people would be hurt by tossing another buck for postage, well...and I'm not sure what she may have said after that. My ears shut down.

Perhaps I hang with the "wrong" folks, skewing my perspective about how well the economy is doing. After all, here in OR where I spent several days last week rubbing shoulders with people who work for the schools or run homeless shelters, I can't tell you the number of conversations I had with people who themselves or someone close to them was losing their job, having hours cut or some version of financial suffering.

Walking to Borders (one of the chain's still-open stores) to grab 2 paperbacks I was looking for, I searched for the economic lens to change my vision. This outdoor mall was not brimming with consumers. The conversation between 2 Borders' employees was about schedule cuts. I stood in line with families that seemed to be doing OK. At least the mall wasn't filled with stores that have gone out of business.

I saw a security guard, one of those underpaid deceptive bastions of safety, and resisted the urge to ask him if all was well with his financial status.

My morning news read included a story about quality teachers and their paltry pay scale. One respected teacher goes from school to a part-time job which gets him home after 11 at night. It's the only way he can make ends meet for his family, a sacrifice to say the least, for him, his family, and I suspect his students.

The workers in this tony mall probably would argue the "good economy" theory. I often wonder what the Whole Foods' associates think as they package meat costing more than their paycheck and handing it to a clueless customer. Sure, they're happy for their jobs, but the gap between what they earn and what they need to survive, much less get ahead grows, along with it disenchantment.

My perspective of the economy may be colored by a few numeric indicators:

• The number of children in this country living in poverty is at a record high, 25%. I see kids living in poverty and what it does to them. Not pretty.
• The number of foreclosures and related evictions continues to skyrocket, with millions losing their homes--their American Dreams--each year. The emotional (and other) damage that occurs when a household is sinking into foreclosure is, well, ugly.
• The number of kids in school who have no homes is well over a million, with school districts nationwide reporting numbers doubling. This number has shot up during our economic (boom, bust, you pick).
• The number of homeless infants and toddlers spending their formative years without a home is at least hundreds of thousands, probably over a million (the subject of our new documentary, "Littlest Nomads," that I'm filming this month).
• The number of people on waiting lists for subsidized housing is off the charts--waits up to 10 years, meaning housing insecurity and increased risk of homelessness.
• The number of people turned away from shelters, or not finding shelters at all, is not accurately documented by government entities, but anecdotal accounts from a variety of sources confirm homelessness is on the significant, tragic rise.
• The number of shuttered businesses and "For Sale by Owner" signs I've seen as I've traversed this nation's backroads is incalculable.Trust me. It's huge, and under-reported.

I could continue. but that list was therapeutic...for me.

Being right, as I sure I am, is no prize. It causes me to wonder about my friend Jackie and countless other clueless, confused, and sometimes cruel people. Is it Darwinian denial? Or is it a concerted effort to wish away poverty and homelessness just by saying it ain't so?

Seems to me we should get a good public relations firm to convince people that poverty and homelessness are alive and well. The message--in the many forms we've tried to present it--doesn't seem to be working. 

In a World of Hurt-Opportunity and Solidarity

No one likes to suffer. And some of us don't like to see others suffer. That's why I do what I do (activist for homeless families and youth). I'd have to say my friend Christi Parsons nailed it right when she said I'm someone who likes "to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable," (19^th century Chicago humorist Finley Peter Dunne). So my abhorrence to suffering does have some caveats.

I don't know if it's just the hyper quantity (and hyping) of news we get nowadays, or if it's my hyper sensitivity to it. But it seems that globally we have an overabundance of stupidity and greed, to pick 2 most obvious characteristics. Having brushed up against those 2 un-virtues in Calhoun, GA last week, I'm still seething. 


This link will fill you in on what you need to know about the 2 legislators who allegedly caused the Oglethorpe Inn, a rundown "motel" to go belly-up pushing 80 people to the streets. Fortunately, 3 women spearheaded incredible efforts to find at least temporary housing for the displaced--families with kids and single men and women. Most people rely on government disability payments for their income, not enough to afford a regular place to live, security deposits, etc., one reason why they're in this dire situation.


The people hurt by this upheaval, in many cases, were the most vulnerable folks in Calhoun. They've been chewed up and spat out by society. Some are so broken--physically and mentally--that it hurt me to see them hurting so bad. Even their pets were hurting. It was profoundly sad to witness. Even sadder to experience firsthand.


What seems to be a positive turn, with all the protests going on in this land and across the seas, the powerless are starting to find their voices, and their shoes, and their protest signs. I hope it's not too late. Some of us have been begging people to take a stand against injustice and greed for years. We're all slow to jump on something that seems remote to us, like homelessness.

But with homelessness spreading like kudzu in urban and non-urban areas alike; with greedy bankers and mortgage lenders creating housing havoc and global economic mayhem; with employment shriveling like a baby too long in bathwater; and with union wages and benefits, health care and mental health services being slashed so budgets can be "bogus-balanced"...homelessness is getting an unwanted second look by many.


I'm not saying this is a good thing--that homelessness is now more real to more people than ever--but it does make it easier to inspire action. That's what I'm hoping, that you're willing to act. Here are 3 simple petitions (don't even need to get up!) that will collectively nudge some positive action:

• Help bring some "hurt" to those who allegedly caused the motel to shut down. LINK
• Get President Obama to invite me to the White House to screen our powerful new documentary, "on the edge," 7 women's stories about their homelessness. LINK 2
• Urge Jon Stewart (The Daily Show) to focus his humorous wrath on the city leaders of Gainesville, FL so they'll lift the inane feeding limit on their soup kitchen. LINK 3 

 If this isn't enough--get out and act. Here are some suggestions:

• Volunteer and/or support your local shelter or program that helps vulnerable families, youth and adults.
• Collect needed items (new socks and undies are always needed) on a regular basis (don't wait for holidays, or make up your own holiday!).
• Follow the HEAR US Compassion Epidemic page and share the call to action. 
• Get copies of on the edge and My Own Four Walls. Watch them. Get groups to see them. 
• Sign up for the free, no-hassle HEAR US e-newsletter, and share it with friends.

Seems to me we need to get off our collective duffs before they get kicked 6 ways to Sunday. Probably good to remember that unless you're one of the few uber-rich, a category that I'm not in, you're in danger of the things you most fear. There. Feel better now? I just shared the affliction!

'All Things Being Equal' -- Huh?

All things being equal. What a bogus concept that is!

Case in point: Calhoun, GA, a small town (15,000) in the northwest part of this diverse state. Someone figured, all things being equal, that mismanaging a motel that housed about 80 men, women and children who previously lost their housing wouldn't matter. So very wrong...!

I got a desperate SOS from my McKinney-Vento friends in this community. They knew I had been hanging out in Georgia. They just found out that the Oglethorpe Inn, a nondescript motel on the edge of an Interstate ramp, had the power shut off and people needed to find alternative housing ASAP. HELP! I was in Illinois at the time, planning to fly back to Tillie in GA and then head south. Change of plans.

I seethed as I flew. I seethed as my sister drove me to pick up Tillie. I seethed as I scooted across the state, heading to Calhoun. Arriving too late to do anything Saturday night, I prepped and hit the ground running on Sunday. Met with Roberta and Stacey, confirming my worst fears, but being totally impressed with their stalwart efforts (along with their teammate, Vicky). These three super-heroines were making sure everyone had a place to stay, at least temporarily, while better arrangements could be made. Despite their best efforts, all things are not equal....like credit histories, felony records, pets, stuff, lack of transportation, and other seemingly insurmountable barriers to rehousing dozens of income-challenged, fragile, frazzled folks.

Tillie and I headed over to the Oglethorpe. I knew a couple people there from our previous visit under the Southern (Dis)Comfort banner. It took only moments for these beleaguered folks to respond kindly to my camera-bearing presence. Yup. The same people being displaced by the dastardly deeds of a deacon of a church (also a state senator) and his business partner, a member of Congress. All things being equal...I'll take the "least functional" homeless folks on my team any day! Their stories need to be told, and justice needs to be done.

The convoluted story (still evolving, I hope) boils down to these assumedly responsible (the bank gave them a $2.2 mil loan) elected officials dumping the motel and its responsibilities on a hapless guy who may have stumbled in his efforts...resulting in the motel being shut down. All things being equal, it should have been fine...but it's not.

As a result of all things not being equal, 80 folks were forced to pack up their meager possessions and relocate to a variety of other places. No shelter in town for homeless families, and a limited one for men, so it's not like they had options. The 3 angels set about raising money to pop folks in motels or to pay for (very affordable, if you get the drift) apartments. By Monday, the deadline, all had been placed.

My take on the deal has the 2 legislators responsible for the bulk of the consequences that displaced the most vulnerable people in their community. And as a believer in "personal responsibility," I'm calling on those responsible to make things right. Here's my petition you can sign to add muscle to my challenge to them to do right, our meager effort to make all things equal....

It's my hope that those who should know better will discover that all things aren't equal for people who've experienced more than their share of lumps. That's why our government needs to be there to help...not hurt...because all things are not equal.

It seems to me that those of us who have any wherewithal to level the playing field, aka make all things equal, will have our work cut out for us, now more than ever. Fighting bogus bullies could be a full-time job!

Waiting for the Great Light

I confess to recently thinking about hunkering down and waiting for that eternal force to come bolting through the sky to make all things right. Me, the stout-of-heart, confessing to wanting a bolt of lightning...that's how crazy things have gotten....

In my 60 years, with the last 25 in service to my "homies," more respectfully referred to as homeless sisters and brothers, I'd never thought I'd long for what we considered, at the time, to be varying forms of Armageddon--the days of Ronald Reagan, George I, Bill Clinton, and, gasp, even Little George, the shrub.

With the speed of light, vengeance, hatred and doom seem to be hitting the weakest among us. Emboldened lawmakers, many proclaiming Christianity, are figuring out how to make the rich richer and the desperately poor more miserable. I'm afraid we ain't seen nothing yet.
But my faint hope lies in the fact that December 21st is right around the corner. The longest night of the year, my favorite holiday. It means things will start getting brighter. The days will inch their way into brightness, indiscernible at first.

My threads of belief center on the innate goodness of humankind, despite some peoples' efforts to convey other traits. Everywhere I go I see good, although sometimes not in quantities I deem sufficient to overcome the evil. But I always set my expectations high. Congress managed to pass a resolution commemorating this 10th anniversary of NHPMD. Woo hoo! At least it's something.

Knowing as I do that the bright light from the sky theory is probably not going to happen, I'm asking all like-minded people to join me in sprinkling the stardust of light that comes from lots of little goodnesses shared. If we all make a conscious effort, or increase our current effort (if we think we've been doing it before) to touch our sisters and brothers around us with kindness, maybe we'll overpower the rampant greed and meanness that we see.

December 21st is National Homeless Persons' Memorial Day. I find myself doing a mental roll call of folks I've know--adults and children--who have died, homeless or with homelessness behind them. Whatever foibles they had (and don't we all?), their lives were gifts to those of us who knew them. Some died alone except for their shelter "family." Some had reconnected with their families. The sincere reflections from fellow homies at these memorials would surprise many unfamiliar with life on the streets. (If you're interested in this, or other homelessness issues, check out my book, "Crossing the Line: Taking Steps to End Homelessness.")

Seems to me our best bet is to count on our homies--living and dead--to generate the flow of good energy that will swirl around the earth, generating the unmistakable power of goodness. We need it now more than ever. Amen!

Drip, Drip, Drip

40 gallons. That's how much water I can carry in my home/office motor home I call "Tillie." It's not one of those luxury RVs but it's more than adequate for me. And it gives me a "closer to the ground" nomadic way of life, appropriate for my work under the auspices of HEAR US Inc., my nonprofit.--chronicling lives of homeless families and teens.
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I'm like most--taking water for granted--until I started my roaming. I faced a steep learning curve: how much water do I use? How often can I get to some place to re-fill? How do I economize, without stinking and piling up dirty dishes? Do I have enough for a shower? Is it going to dip below freezing? If I'm careful, that 40 gallons can last the week.

I became a bit squeamish. Dumping my waste tanks then filling up with the hose right next to the sewer--um, am I confident of the integrity of this arrangement? No. I decided my drinking water would best come from the filtered water dispensers that cost me between 20-49 cents a gallon, adding a gallon a day to my consumption.

Choices. Despite my unconventional lifestyle, with relatively modest financial resources, I am able to acquire the water I need to not only survive, but thrive. With a little planning and a lot of luck, I can get water.

Without resources, that privilege doesn't exist.

Substandard trailers I've visited are hooked to who-knows-what for water sources. Trailer park owners may or may not care. Stories of tainted water supplies and poisoned aquifers dribble through news cycles unnoticed. Some places I've seen people have to haul all their water. Some families living in vans need to scavenge water and find places to clean up as a regular part of their routine, along with getting the "bum's rush" by restaurant owners not fond of sharing H2O. And most impoverished families end up drinking high fructose laden soft drinks, lured to their "value" by compelling advertising, forsaking water, which likely contains toxins.

My Navy-short hot shower, with the slow-flowing stream, makes me smile, usually. I try to think about water-challenged people, how they'd be happy for a trickle for a shower, especially if it was hot. My patience can sometimes be tested by the slow-to-fill water tank, but I put on my head-brake, remembering that I have access to water. My slug of filtered water from my hopefully safe stainless steel bottle can often give me pause--gratitude for the gift of refreshing water.

Water experts will figure out the wisest way to ensure the world's water use is adequate for now and the future. We need to do our part--and for me, I'm learning to be patient with, and aware of, each drop that comes my way.

Seems to me that it's time to protect our precious resources. The first step for all of us is to realize that we share this finite resource with our sisters and brothers across the land.

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Can't Help but Wonder...

Five years is a long time. I know I've changed in the past 5 years. I also know I couldn't have imagined my life as it is now 5 years ago.

For the past 5 years, I've been trekking on mostly backroads of America trying my best to do the HEAR US mission, "give voice and visibility to homeless children and youth." That may sound obscure to the unknowing, but for me it means a quest to figure out how to prick America's conscience about the rapidly increasing numbers of homeless kids on our streets.

Lest you think it's about numbers, think again. One deliberate tool I have is a picture each of the kids I interviewed in my first year traveling. I spoke with 75 kids from little towns, rural areas, resort communities and ordinary cities. The one thing these kids had in common was they experienced homelessness. Some were still homeless.

I filmed these interviews, compiling them on a DVD called "My Own Four Walls," I've shown this film hundreds of times to thousands of people since then. We've sold thousands of copies. The one thing I know for sure, no matter who is in the audience, they can't help but be blown away by what these kids say.

I didn't spend much time with each kid. I haven't kept in contact with all of them. But they continue to travel with me--ensconced on a "class picture" type poster on Tillie's back window, with a (hopefully) shocking message that over 1.5 million kids are homeless. We're finding that this guesstimate is probably way low, since schools have identified almost a million homeless children and youth (2008-09 data).

Seeing pix of these kids, listening to their wisdom in MOFW, hearing from some of them on my HEAR US Facebook page, or keeping in touch by occasional phone calls and emails, I continue to wonder how they are doing. Are things improving? Did they fall deeper into the ever-expanding abyss of homelessness? Do people in power care about them? Are people around them doing all they can to improve these courageous kids' opportunities for success?

Here's a simple act you can do to help make sure homeless kids get an education:

Petitions by Change.org|Start a Petition »

This fascinating site shows celebrities who experienced homelessness. Besides their own bootstraps, they likely had people that helped them along the way. I wonder where they would have been without that? I wonder how much they are willing to lend a hand now?

Seems to me that we pay far too much attention to today's celebrities and far too little attention to those who matter most--the hope of our future. The stars of My Own Four Walls, wherever they are, are my inspiration to continue my quest.

Picture credit: Julianna Martinez

Bloomin' Comparision Makes Sense to Me

The rain, about 3 hours worth, combined with oddly cool temps for the last day of July (low 70s), provided the ideal moment to attack the looming and surging problem--weeds in the butterfly garden.

Since Helen commandeered (albeit with a limited budget) this lovely previously rock-strewn underutilized space and shaped it (with help from me and others) into a perennial garden with potential, the weeds have tried to dominate. Today was the showdown!

Yesterday, proficient gardener Jeanne joined us for a tour of the space, identifying problem weeds and figuring out what looked like weeds but were not. That was helpful. Today all the stars were in alignment for this concerted attack.

Armed with a big plastic bag to capture the seedy-weeds, sharp clippers to prune and trim, and dressed for this grungy task, Helen and I plunged in. No weed was safe. The tough ones, thistles and other deep-rooted buggers, I carefully tried to extract from the pliable ground. Sometimes I got them out with root intact, sometimes not. Rats. That means they'll be back, probably by tomorrow, incorrigible varmints that they are. The little weed-wanna-be's were removed before they knew they hit the ground.

Helen and I made great progress, ridding the space of unwanted and invasive weeds, moving a few plants, and then hitting a greenhouse sale to get a few more plants to fill in.

Nothing exciting. Just a lot of dirty work motivated by the desire to attract butterflies and to provide folks around Villa St. Benedict and Sacred Heart Monastery a pleasant place to enjoy.

Weeding gives one time to think. I got to speculating about how our task at hand paralleled the nation's approach to homelessness. NO! I'm not comparing homeless people to weeds. I'm looking at weeds as the issues, problems, and challenges that jeopardize the existence of vulnerable wild flowers and other perennials (people who end up homeless).

Our nation's approach, since we've begun seriously neglecting this human "garden" back in the early 80s (read this short but informative report's history of modern homelessness), has allowed weeds to take over. Discarding mentally ill patients onto the streets, inadequate addiction services, deteriorating housing and  severe cutbacks in new affordable housing, half-assed approaches to dealing with homelessness, pervasive and unaddressed poverty--all of that and more contributed to abuse and neglect of our nation's "garden" that left us with the mess we have now.

Not properly identifying weeds, like HUD's documented failure to truly define homelessness (read this vindicating report by the GAO), spreading rumors about the "danger" of working in the garden/on the streets, inadequate tools--support system, insufficient resources--funding for housing and services to keep people in housing, diminished systemic approaches to prevent more weeds/homelessness--a judicial system run amok when dealing with people in poverty, and a perceived lack of interest in gardening--growing disregard for people in poverty or folks with disabilities--all of this and more combined to cause our nation's garden to seriously deteriorate.

Can we restore this treasured "place" in our land? Can we put together resources, workers, and determination to plunge in to comprehensively and holistically create an environment in this country that reduces the number of homeless families and single adults, supporting both independent housing and extra supportive services for those who need them, instead of watching families and individuals recycle through the weed-patch?

Seems to me we have a "Master Gardener," and the window of opportunity is here at long last. If we can get a grip on the weeds, treat the soil, move some plants around, and set up a system of maintenance that will keep the invaders at bay, we can make significant progress. Or we can let our garden go to seed, soon to contaminate the nearby well-manicured lawns surrounding mega-mansions. When the weeds creep onto the golf courses, then we'll see some action.