Bogus Ass-freezing Exercise in Futility: HUD's Point in Time Count

[This post is longer than usual, and contains an informative link to NLCHP's similar comments. I’ve tried not to offend the good people who volunteer to do the HUD Point-in-Time count. But I’m sure I’ll step on a bunch of toes.] 

Frank. One of millions. He counts.

During the last week of January, since I’m part of the Carlisle, PA community for the time being, I volunteered to be one of the good souls that would go out and try to find and interview unsheltered homeless people in the Cumberland County jurisdiction. It was more curiosity than benevolence on my part.

Feeling somewhat guilty, I layered up, grabbing my seldom-used silk long undies, my extra warm socks, lined jeans, hooded sweatshirt, windproof jacket, waterproof gloves and shoes. All set to tromp in Snowzilla.

Pat and I met up with the band of volunteers at the chain grocery store cafe. This wasn’t my event to organize, so I could just hang back and nod in agreement. We signed our liability and confidentiality forms and headed out.

We hopped into the purpose-filled Element SUV driven by Ross, aka the Bike Guy. He retired from the railroad and is now, among other things, involved in providing those without bucks the opportunity to get bikes. 

I was in the back seat, and didn’t feel the need to know anything more than I did know, which is that HUD requires communities to conduct this count at least every other January so HUD can report the numbers to Congress. It’s a process that’s become more organized in the past 10 years or so. When I ran a shelter we just endured the Census Bureau and their awkward and annoying efforts every 10 years. 

Our train expert/guide was adept at finding places to drive along train property. His 4-wheel-drive vehicle made easy work of the ice and snow. And, I’ve got to say in sincere awe, he sure knows how to back up adeptly! 

The End of January Snow in Carlisle, PA, 

We wove in and out of Harrisburg, PA’s train yards on the NW side of the city. With 2’ of snow on the ground, we were spared the chilly drudgery of tromping aimlessly through the woods. If we didn’t see a trail of footsteps through the snow, our zealous guide astutely decided that no one was living in that area.

We only had to get out once, and stood as Ross tromped down a hillside to follow the possible hot trail. It was. A 50-ish white male was camping in a remote spot, polite but not interested in the questions we were supposed to ask, so Ross decided to give us the details which Pat dutifully chronicled, and we returned to the warmth of the car to continue what was a futile venture.

Homeless people in these neighborhoods wouldn’t be on sidewalks in front of buildings, they’d be in alleyways or the parks. But the training materials explicitly stated "No parks, alleys, abandoned buildings, etc." out of concern for the volunteers’ safety. My team saw not a single homeless person. That does not mean they don't exist in the zip codes we covered, but that all the likeliest places where they would have been, we were not supposed to go. Eric Tars, Staff Attorney, NLCHP "Personal Reflections"

As I sat quietly in the back, I couldn’t help but remember an interview I did with a group of homeless youth in Harrisburg back in 2006 for a documentary I was working on. They took me around the downtown, sharing their challenges and showing me where they slept (alongside the train tracks, under a clump of bushes), where they got food, and where they hung out. They spoke of staying in abandoned buildings (Harrisburg has plenty) and their struggles to stay warm and dry.

I looked out the window as we zoomed through bedraggled neighborhoods, wondering how you’d be able to conduct a decent census of those harbored illegally in this ghettoized city. I glanced at 24-hour laundromats and fast food joints, places of refuge as I’ve been told by those I’ve interviewed over my past 3 decades. We didn’t look there. We haphazardly zipped through a few parking lots, but tonight’s 10 degree temps might discourage the average car-sleeper. 

And we had no way of gauging the number of individuals and families who have desperately turned to a friend, relative or acquaintance to couch surf or sleep in a corner of the basement, without a doubt the most common way for families to survive their homelessness. (WOWM)

As we bounced over ice ruts, I tried to calculate the vast amount of resources being expended nationwide for this sacrosanct PIT count. Incalculable. 

Is it a testosterone-fueled “search and count” expedition? Maybe, in part. Is it a do-gooder’s mission? Also in part. Is it futile? The numbers speak for themselves.

HUD reports to Congress yearly, part of the ritual of proving that the meager $2.25 billion they get to address homelessness is being well-spent. The declining numbers of “chronically homeless” people, including vets, might be seen as a sign that things are working. And for some lucky street-escapees, it has.

I know lots of dedicated people expend tremendous efforts to alleviate homelessness in their communities. And I know lots of people are grateful to get their own home, humble as it might be. But…

My big issue is with HUD and opponents of our grassroots, bipartisan efforts to expand the definition of homelessness to include those who double up with others due to lack of options, or seek shelter in no-tell-motels, or camp in dilapidated rigs or in the many other permutations that I’ve heard about and seen. 

The vulnerability of these arrangements is talked about in my HEAR US documentary Worn Out Welcome Mat - Kansas. To deny the vulnerable and fragile existence of millions of families, youth and single adults in these circumstances; to exclude them from qualifying for HUD services, including emergency shelter; to keep Congress in the dark about the abysmal and dangerous lack of decent housing for those most vulnerable…well, it’s appalling for starters.

We exert impressive efforts to pursue the impossible task of “counting angels on the head of a pin” as my friend and fierce advocate Mitch Snyder was fond of saying, but we can’t find the wherewithal to make sure babies, toddlers, kids, parents and adults have a safe place to call home. I call that bogus. 

When You're Hot, You're Hot

 I'm hotter than the "hotties."

I'm certifiably hot. By choice (a combination of practicality and preference) I’ve cast my lot with the air conditioning “have-nots,” swimming in sweat during this sultry summer as I sleep in my toaster oven motorhome. My lifestyle inspires perplexed looks from friends and acquaintances who generously offer a guest bedroom which I graciously refuse. “Tillie,” my RV, is my humble home. When I can reduce my carbon footprint I do. And I don't appreciate the AC's sound of a helicopter landing on my rooftop while my propane tank gets empty. So I sweat in solidarity with the homeless families I advocate for.

The puzzlement of friends is one thing. The cluelessness of those who obliviously surround themselves with climate control comfort is another. Their world is far from mind in so many ways. And that’s OK, though I can vacillate between resentment and jealousy depending on my discomfort. My tactile experience helps me understand why folks are hot and bothered about the debt debacle. But I am far from the only one sweating.

A senior citizen, Arlene, a nurse by profession, bought a modest townhouse many years ago. A spiraling turn of events leaves her now painfully infirm, and the AC unit in her home broken for 3 years. She's so broke she can't fix it, nor can she take her ailing dog to the vet. Arlene, by my way of thinking, is one of the millions of folks who don't factor into the Beltway decisions on how money is spent. She and her sick dog sweat and no one seems able to do anything. It costs money. We don't have any.

Intra and inter party frustration abounds, spreading like Super Bowl fever to the “fans” of Beck, Bernie, Biden, Barack and company. Save, spend, tax, trickle-up, trickle-down, stimulate, slash, all represent positions that adherents will righteously fight for, despite the consequences. Convinced of their “solution,” their opponents become the enemy. No ground for understanding or compromise. And no regard for those like Arlene who suffer day in and day out.

Riling up the “troops,” hateful half-truths spew over airwaves and internet, firing up supporters and foes or repelling the silent, frustrated electorate. Differences become magnified, intensified like the brutal heat of an unreasonably scorching summer day. It’s these differences that hold a key to understanding.

Many people who live in climate-controlled comfort don’t understand, or perhaps appreciate, those who cannot or will not choose that lifestyle. The groups become, by virtue of weather protection, isolated. Resentment builds. Entitlement surges. Righteousness spews. And differences are exaggerated. 

Runners who sweat smugly think they understand, and a bootstraps mentality usually results. See, I do something, I sweat, I shower and go to work in my nice air conditioned office. You too should do this. 

Those who live in perma-chilled areas (where are they so I can go there?!) don't get it, this talk of sweat-induced stickiness. Those who live in jungle-like climates and have adapted nicely to their underwear being wet all the time think we're wusses.

The haves, those with access to ample AC, can lose connections with those who toss and turn on humid nights. Stink and sweat separates. Disdain grows. 

Now I don't begin to believe that our economic malaise is simply a difference between those who stay cool and those who don't. But the key to compromise is understanding. And until you walk the mile, or sweat the bucket-load, you don't understand the other person's perspective. If you don't understand a group of people, um, like those in poverty, you're not gonna give a rat's ass about their well-being.

One of the many humbling lessons I've learned as I lean into my 7th year of Tillie-living is that I need to sharpen my understanding of those who are different than me--the pristine, sweat-free policy makers who have deemed the impoverished masses in this country to be doomed to misery.

Appreciating Water, Electricity and Flat Spots

It's that time again, where I'm rolling across country on an insanely ambitious endeavor, the HEAR US Learning Curve Express.

And as I roll, I'm remembering that my summer's security--access to water, electricity, and dumps--is behind me. Before me are question marks. Where I'm going? Who will volunteer to participate? What support I'll receive? and What surprises I'll encounter?

Already I'm doing without--I'm low on water. I have no place to plug in, therefore no heat unless I run the generator to power the heater. And dumping will be an issue in a couple days.

But what I'm doing pales in comparison to the struggles of invisible homeless families and teens. That's why I'm doing what I'm doing--to give them voice and visibility.

Don't think I'm not just a tad irate after watching Michael Moore's latest film, Capitalism A Love Story. Fat cats ravage global economies, destroy businesses, ruin families, and gloat. Frankly, after watching this greed-busting movie, I found myself even more motivated to shine a light on homeless families.

Afflict the comfortable, comfort the afflicted.

Me and Tillie. We're going to do our best. Follow along. It could get interesting!

photos by the author

Getting Ready for the BIG ONE!

I've been a road-rat for the past 4 years. Having never RVed before, I have to say this lifestyle fits me in more ways than I would have imagined. I've logged over 75k miles, hitting each of the lower 48 states. Traveling mostly backroads, I've seen a side of America few realize exists.

Solo-RVing, and finding great friends along the way who graciously accommodate my non-profit organization, HEAR US, and our mission to call attention to invisible homeless kids, has been more than satisfying and successful. With this experience under my belt, I'm about to venture on the most intense project of them all--the HEAR US Learning Curve Express.

You see, for way too many years, Congress has been bamboozled by HUD and its cronies about the scope of homelessness, particularly as it affects families and youth, especially those outside metro areas. It got so bad that the bamboozlers fought to limit the definition of "homeless" to exclude folks who bounce between friends' couches and motels after they lose their place to live due to hardship. Yeah, let's make it harder on people who have lost their homes. Geez!

The way I figure, I'll land in congressional districts and find some homeless families or teens willing to talk on camera, pop those interviews on our YouTube site(with help from NIU interns), and make contact with the Congressperson (or staff) to invite them to meet with the film subjects, possibly with some media presence. That should provide a congressional learning opportunity that could yield huge results.

It's a big country, but I'm willing to meet with and film as many invisible homeless families and teens as I need to in order to convince Congress that in every district people struggle with survival because they have no place to live. With that as my goal, I may be on the road a long time.

I know this is my RVer blog--but it's as impossible for me to separate my work from my lifestyle as it is for homeless families to become "un-homeless" because they're not staying at a shelter. My task now is to let them tell that story as often as it takes until Congress gets it. It could be a long trip....check our HEAR US website soon for some exciting announcements!

Bad Wind Blowin'

Trouble ahead. Sometimes it's good to know so you can avoid it, and sometimes knowing it makes you know you're hitting trouble, but you have to plunge into it.

Such was the case yesterday as I headed across central Texas, on backroads, of course. I was nearing the town that was my destination for the night and I saw some ominous clouds on the horizon. Uh oh, I thought, the band of storms that I thought maybe I missed was darkening a growing portion of sky.

Steady as she goes, I figured. Since this is crackling dry central TX, I started pondering the grassfires that I used to dismiss as No Big Deal. Three years ago as I ventured on my first HEAR US trip, I was treated to an up-close-and-personal tour of the after-effects of grassfires, and have since revised my NBD opinion to V(ery)BD.

As I neared town, I became more alarmed because the dark sky was resembling either tornadoes or smoke. Hmmm...and me, down to 1/4 tank of gas, not the ideal amount if you have to run for the hills in rural anywhere.

I figured I'd keep driving in that direction until I could figure out what was up. Certainly cop cars would block our path if this were a fire or tornado. I hope.

As I neared town it became ominously obvious--of course, a dust storm. After all, we're nearing the Great Depression 2, and plenty of bare topsoil is available in the Dust Bowl. I'm not making this up. Here is a link to my pix I took as I neared the storm...

I'm wind-seasoned, but it's like snow, the first time of the season is a learning curve. No time for learning here. I kicked on the Weather Band and heard that gusts of 60+mph, regular winds 45-50. It got dark. And when it started spitting rain, my initial thought was "Oh great, mud on the windshield." The new wipers I had were useless because of the headwinds/sidewinds, whatever-winds.

And suddenly my 1/4 tank of gas became even a bigger problem than my empty water tank. Temps were supposed to drop into the 40s, with wind, I figured that would be plenty cold. And since my genny doesn't run on less than 1/4 tank I'm screwed. I had to get gas. The ubiquitous WalMart appeared, with good ol' Murphy's gas. OK.

Despite my ample size, the winds nearly blew me across the lot as I held the nozzle. I figured $20 would do the trick, and literally as I was replacing the hose the gas station's power went out. Timing! At least for me.

I aimed Tillie's nose into the wind on the edge of the WM parking lot. And we rocked and rolled for the better part of 3 hours, when it subsided somewhat. I was tired, and used the motion to rock me to sleep.

When I looked out this morning, I saw what could explain some of the lessening winds...a semi had parked between me and the wind, shielding Tillie from the worst of it. Thanks, trucker.

My thought through most of this was for those households living in old beater mobile homes and RVs that I've passed on all the backroads of this country. I know how wind-proof Tillie is not. And it's a newer RV. What would it be like to try to live in a dilapidated home of any sort with this wind, or other bad weather common across the nation? (I'm not ignoring the even worse realities of other countries, I'm just writing from my experience.)

All this at a time when Congress is debating an amount of money I can't even begin to imagine. And they can't see that millions of substandard houses are posing hardships for tens of millions of people? Perhaps they should ride around with me....

My Campaign Strategy

This Maryland campsite had the best of all worlds--semi-secluded campsites, water/electric, laundry facilities, and lots of beautiful scenery.

In my "younger" years, about 12 years ago, I gave serious thought to running for Congress. Well, the thought was serious, but when I sought the advice from a Congresswoman I knew, the money needed and personal sacrifice required splashed cold water on my hot idea.

Now, as we're in the midst of what seems like an eternal campaign season, I've had too much time to think. But my one RV-relevant thought is worth sharing.

Presidential candidates should spend time talking to campers in state parks. Yes, I know camping is a largely Anglo-Saxon pastime. I am not suggesting this is the ONLY venue they should visit, but bear me out....

In campgrounds you will find an interesting cross-section of America. Some wealthier people with their spiffy $1 million+ McMansion/RVs; crustier full-timers who either travel lots of miles or within a smaller area; families camping on the weekend to get their kids outside and to enjoy the offerings of our state parks; the vacationers who like getting closer to nature than the 4-walled motel rooms; and from what I've seen, some people who live in parks because they have lost their place to stay.

The candidates can come in casual duds and maybe partake in some BBQ chow or slam back a cold lemonade while chatting with the campers. While I'm sure lapel pins, debate formats, and other hot topics may be on the minds of some folks, based on my 2 1/2 years on the road, with countless nights in state parks, I imagine the issues list would look something like this:

• Cost of Housing/Property Taxes I've overheard more than one conversation about how someone's sold their home to get out from under the burden of housing costs and property taxes. It's not just seniors. Then we have the burgeoning sub-prime and foreclosure debacles. Hearing some practical approaches to solving these growing crises would be welcomed.
  
• Environmental concerns will also be an issue. On the most basic level, recycling--a rarity at campgrounds--and suggestions about protecting/improving conditions of our lakes and rivers, forests and undeveloped and park lands will likely arise. Park maintenance budgets would be good to include in the conversation, with the obvious suggestion of a 21st century version of Depression-age initiatives to give people jobs and restore dignity to the growing ranks of unemployed women and men.
  
• Education and care for our children are prime topics. Parents who bring their kids out for a camping trip invest a lot in providing valuable experiences for their kids. They'll want to hear of real plans to improve governmental services that enhance the quality of life of ordinary people and provide educational opportunities so their kids can become productive adults.
  
• Safety and neighborhood environment are subjects for discussion. It's amazing to get a group of strangers together, some shielded from the outside by the thinnest of fabric walls, and you have--at least from my experience--relative peace and civil behavior. Maybe change-of-pace has something to do with it, but we could learn from campground management, especially the unsung heroes who serve as camp hosts.
  
• Health issues affect everyone. Providing healthy activities and good nutrition can go a long way to improving people's health, not dismissing the need for access to medical services at a rate that doesn't cause bankruptcy.
  
• Fuel prices will surely make the list of worries for the camping public. Not just gas prices, but home heating oil, propane and electricity....
  
• Economy--Add to the list how the next President can salvage an economy that is as close to doom-and-gloom as anyone would want to see...
• War--then explain how military--and more critically para-military --involvement in the Mideast will be handled.
  

Then the candidates can hop back on the campaign trail, refreshed, knowing that they've heard from an oft-ignored segment of the American public.

Sure beats the hypocrisy of standing in New Orleans over 2 years later and decrying lack of action. Well, there I go, getting all political again....

Profound Disappointment

See--who said Tillie never got a bath? The last one was in June, 2007, when I tricked my sister, her husband and his kindly sister, and my nephew into scraping off a year's worth of dead bugs and road grime. It was right before I covered the GS logo with a plain label.

About a year ago I confidently and hopefully approached Gulf Stream Coach with a proposal to trade brand recognition for financial support of HEAR US, my unique national non-profit organization dedicated to raising awareness of homelessness.

I knew Tillie and I would be getting some national TV coverage and my thought was it could benefit GS as well as HEAR US. How glad I am that they said no. Shortly after the rejection I covered the GS logos.

I've been following the formaldehyde saga--where travel trailers provided by FEMA for hurricane victims were determined to have unacceptable levels of the toxic chemical. I know people who have stayed in these trailers. Some people I know who were placed in FEMA trailers after Hurricane Ivan have wondered about the integrity of the construction and their possible toxic levels.

This is not a new discussion. But it took a couple years for FEMA, the CDC, and the federal government to finally admit what I suspect people knew from the get-go: the toxic tin cans that have been home to thousands of families following the devastation of Hurricane Rita and Katrina in 2005 should never have been used.

Having bought my motorhome back in November 2005, I wonder if I should be worried. Gulf Stream is one of the main providers of the toxic units. Do I trust them if they assure me I have nothing to worry about?

What will happen to those responsible for the deception that continues today? Congress is quick to hold hearings and to determine blame for athletes who use steroids. OK, that's important, to a degree, but the formaldehyde scandal is much worse in my mind. Maybe the low-key approach is because most of the families in the tainted homes are not wealthy athletes??