In the Shelter of Each Other the People Live…

As a nomad for the past 10 years, I’ve been more than aware of how my HEAR US mission —giving voice and visibility to homeless families and youth—is dependent on so many others. The Irish proverb, “In the shelter of each other the people live” encapsulates my reliance on so many people for my work to serve homeless families/youth.

Sunday, at the Church of the Bretheran in Topeka, I spoke about how we are all responsible for the wellbeing of our brothers and sisters. In light of mean-spirited policies and practices aimed at making lives of poor people even more miserable, we now, more than ever, need to care for those struggling against the tsunami of poverty and homelessness.

I don’t mean to imply caring for poor and homeless persons should solely be on people of faith. Nope! It’s a 3-legged stool. Government, local communities, and religious organizations combined are needed to reconstruct the shredded safety net essential for record numbers of families and youth without homes.

It’s humbling to realize how much people have done for HEAR US/me over the years. I started out 10 years ago—driving out of Naperville, IL late afternoon behind the wheel of my new (huge, albeit 27’ long) motorhome— as the roads clogged with commuters returning home. Tillie the Turtle, as I dubbed my rig, served as my dwelling, vehicle and office until last September when I downsized to Tillie2, a more svelte and fuel-efficient vehicle (both privately donated, not HEAR US funds).

Since Nov. 2005, I’ve parked in driveways of friends, faith communities, shelters, convents; in parking lots of the noisy, ubiquitous Walmarts and truck stops; and campgrounds of all sorts. I’ve mooched electricity that powered my revered space heater. I’ve filled my water tank for washing body and dishes. I’ve glommed onto wifi connections of friends and businesses. I’ve begged for donations and solicited paying speaking engagements. I’ve been welcomed into schools and shelters across the land, connected with the experts for their stories of homelessness and survival. I’ve been taught the basics of how to film and edit documentaries. I’ve been bolstered in ways too many to mention from my HEAR US board members. I’ve been showered with generous support from countless friends and strangers. But most of all…
…I’ve been gifted by the trust and friendship of children, youth and parents experiencing homelessness. 

My talk today centered around the heroes and sheroes of my travels. The veteran-dad who persisted at a grueling work schedule to eventually be able to move out of the dilapidated tiny camper he and his 3 teen boys and dog called “home” for too long; the military mom who, with her 4 children escaped domestic violence, doubling up with friends/acquaintances until they landed on their feet; and the mom and her 7-year-old daughter who have bounced around from bad situations to worse, not giving up hope.

Being able to film and share painful stories of homelessness among families and youth has been my mission for the past 10 years. No one else does it. I know our nation suffers from a dreadful lack of knowledge of the extent of family/youth homelessness. I’m honored to be the instrument.

I don’t often sit and reflect, much less write, on how grateful I am. If you’re one of the countless individuals who has helped HEAR US in any way, I can’t thank you enough. 

And if you’re someone who appreciates the unique, essential work of HEAR US, and you have the financial means to do so, I’m asking for your help. We’ve got a 10 Years, 10 Friends campaign going. We want as many people as possible to commit to a small ($10+) monthly, tax-deductible donation, and if possible, getting 10 friends to do the same. This gives HEAR US a solid monthly income stream so I can continue my efforts, needed more now than ever.

As I strive to maintain my compassionate perspective and the hutzpah needed to pursue our Quixotic mission to get our nation to change the way we look at homelessness, I am painfully aware of how I need you to shelter me. 

What's Missing? One Key Indicator to Heed...

I'm getting ready to swing out on my 9th round of travels since I started HEAR US Inc. in 2005 to give voice and visibility to homeless children and youth. I've heard and seen lots in these 168,000+ miles. Recently I figured out one thing missing, a very revealing absence.

Smiles. OK, call me crazy but I look at people as I pass by on my mostly backroads' travels.

Elderly man walking out to get his mail. Frowning. Woman on mower. Grimacing. Mail carrier. Numb. Woman driving convertible. Wrinkled brow and downward mouth. Truck driver. Tight-lipped with a cigarette hanging out. Woman pushing baby stroller. Lost. Teen scooting on a skateboard. Isolated. Bicycle rider. Another world.

Interesting but impractical would be to stop and ask my non-smilers how things are going. I'd imagine I'd get an earful. And I don't need any more downer-stories. Working in the field of homelessness, as I have for the past 30 years, gives me enough sadness for a lifetime.

Walking on streets of mega-cities and mini-towns, I've also tried the look-people-in-the-eye gauge to see who makes eye contact and who practices "custody of the eyes." Smaller towns, by far, have people more willing to make eye contact.

Same too with the old-fashioned habit of waving. As a kid, my family had small boats and we spent tons of time traversing canals around Ft. Lauderdale and Pompano Beach, FL. We always exchanged waves with other boaters. Not so much now from what I've seen.

One exception to the waving phenomenon, on the highway, was a stretch of road in southern Nebraska. It was the 1-finger wave, steering wheel hand, kind of a "hey" in a laid back farm country kind of way that gave me something to look forward to on those rare instances when my path crossed another's.

But I've made another fascinating observation: those with the least going for them are the ones who both smile more and respond to a smile. Families and youth without homes, as well as the men and women on the streets and in shelters, seem to recognize the one gift we all can share no matter a person's financial standing.

Yeah, I know. People don't have a lot to smile about. Well, on one hand, I agree things are really tough and our human spirit is being daily tested. But on the other hand, after spending 3 weeks in Tanzania this summer, I also saw a lot of smiles from people who, by our 1st world standard, have very little. Abject poverty was the norm. Grueling living conditions were widespread. Creature comforts as we know them rare.

Not sure what I can extrapolate from all this except to remember that we all have the ability to convey a smile. And the smile, especially when combined with a kind word or two, is a potent tool for creating a wisp of happiness, when woven together wisp-to-wisp will make a full-fledged happy moment...which causes more smiles.

Join me on my travels. Well, at least follow along on Facebook. I'll friend you unless you're an unrepentant ax murderer. And if our paths cross at an event (sign up for our free 1x a mo. newsletter to see where I'm headed), come give me a smile. I need all those friendly looks I can get.

Instead of Shopping for my Birthday...

Audacious. Nonconformist. Unconventional. Such are the labels that have been deservingly hurled my way. And now Sysomos reports that only 7.1% bloggers are over the age of 51. I guess I fit the mold: I'm an over-51 blogger (my 3 blogs)...

• invisible homeless kids
• Poverty in America, Change.org
• Wanderings (formerly Camper's RVue)

...add audacious, nonconformist and unconventional, no argument there. As my big 60 nears (Hello Google, ya gonna get me something besides senior citizen advertisements??!), I've been thinking...as I do, being the philosophy major that I am...what a world!
I struggle to keep up with technology, knowing that if I snooze I'll lose contact with most of my world as it has come to be. Living as a gypsy for the past 5 years has been an amazing experience of an unconventional life. I've met more inspiring people, seen breathtaking vistas and heartbreaking poverty, and pushed myself to more new mountaintops than I ever thought possible.

Reading this morning's New York Times (online, their cool Times Reader) I spied a book review that caught my attention: FREEDOM SUMMER The Savage Season That Made Mississippi Burn and Made America a Democracy By Bruce Watson (Viking). Sounds like a fascinating read. Racism, the topic du jour, may be all the rage now, but back in my days of teen-romping it was all about rage. Mississippi, still not a cutting edge state when it comes to racial equality (but what state is?), burned and brutalized all in the name of honor.

My e-friend, Michaelann Bewsee, blogs a powerful piece about contemporary racism, one which I can identify with, shamefully so. 


I believe we learn from history. Unfortunately, instead of learning history as I sat in high school and college history classes that I deemed boring, I dawdled. Now I find myself in the midst of history-making events and activities. Working on social justice, mainly focused on inequities related to homelessness, is how I spend my days and nights. I look back to look forward.

Looking back at the racial history of my lifetime, I see progress, albeit at a steep price. It wasn't the work of one person or group. It didn't happen overnight. And it took a growing awareness of a clueless public to finally bring about seismic change--the kind that finds our country with a black man at the helm. Anything is possible. Knowing Obama's campaign was an e-grassroots effort, we've arrived at a new way of communicating.

Thus is the thinking of this over-51 blogger. Build a good e-petition for a worthy cause and they will sign. I've been pushing for a credibility level of 5,000 signers on my petition to give homeless families a break when it comes to HUD regulations. My deadline is nearing: August 6th, my birthday. 

Seems to me that I'm letting you off the birthday gift/card hook and giving you a no-brainer. Instead of shopping for me, sign this petition. For icing on my cyber-cake share it and encourage others to barrage HUD with the plea for Amnesty on behalf of homeless families. Maybe someday we'll read the book I'll write about the olden days of rampant homelessness.

Where Did They Go?

The couple claimed they lived in a conversion van. That loose description applied to the late model van converted from vehicle to house by virtue of a mattress wedged into the rear seat area.

They parked in a campground, drawing my attention because they appeared to be living in their vehicle. At $33 a night it is cheaper than even the cheapest motel. Their view was priceless, a lake and mountain outside their window.

Their possessions fit inside their vehicles except for 2 camp chairs perched by the concrete "dining room" table, standard with each site. I'd see bath towels hung on the van door to dry, but little other signs of life. Their van remained parked while their nondescript sedan took off every day, to work? I wondered.

Since they were around a long time by transient campground standards I kept noticing them. It became painful awareness when temps dropped to the low 20s. I've slept in a car before, years ago as a situationally-impoverished college student in search of travel adventures. The 40 year time span doesn't erase the chill-to-the-bone memories.

The couple, fortunately sans children, were fairly invisible. I never saw their faces. When I had to leave my dream campsite for a more parking-lot-style spot I ended up just 100 yards away from the van-campers. Me, in the lap of modest luxury--with heat, water, space and soft chairs. My neighbors lacked all of that and more that I can only imagine.

For homelessness to be so close and me to not be able to do anything to help was frustrating. They didn't ask for help. I don't know if they needed anything, or perhaps I was projecting my guilt on their situation.

But they are gone now, disappeared in the past few days as I visited with family for the holidays. I can only hope their spartan camping experience led to an improved situation. They helped me remember why I'm doing what I'm doing--giving voice and visibility to homeless kids. Homelessness should disturb each one of us who live in luxury while so many lack the basics. I miss them....