Really?? Year 8 for HEAR US; Year 25 for Feds' Homeless Approach

I knew something was weird when I learned our HEAR US website was down recently. Emails bouncing back. Not good. What was the cause?

Well, 7 years ago, when HEAR US was born, the HEAR US website and email addresses were set up. My friend Ken Johnson, who took care of this task, asked me how long he should register it for. 7 years sounded logical.

We just re-upped for another 5 years. Maybe the world will end by then. Maybe not. Certainly homelessness will still be an issue, at least for families and youth.

In HEAR US' birth month of July, we also commemorate another anniversary: 25th year of the McKinney Act (now McKinney-Vento), the federal plan to coordinate homeless services.

My mentor/friend, Mitch Snyder, led the charge to get this mega-issue on the federal table way back then. Presidents have come and gone. HUD Secretaries have cycled, some into prison, and piles of plans and reports have received scant attention from the purse-holding Congress.

Homelessness changed from the visible scruffy guy stereotype, exploding across all populations as social safety nets were shredded. HUD has yet to catch on, resisting our plea to pay adequate attention to the millions of homeless kids, with and without families. (Check out our Help Homeless Kids Now website!)

HUD, stuck in their bureaucratic mud, continues to fight the essential move to align that agency's definition with other federal departments, resulting in a tragic skyrocketing of unsheltered families and youth.The Homeless Children and Youth Act, HR 32, could pave the way to change the way our nation looks at--and eventually deals with--homelessness.

So HEAR US has joined forces with like-minded organizations from across the nation to spell out what needs to happen a mere 25 years after Congress acknowledged homelessness.

Holding my breath? Nope. Turning in Tillie's keys? Nope. Quitting my efforts? Nope. 

I wish I could spend the time to list the impressive ways people have helped this improbable mission unfold and continue. It's amazing. The thoughts of your many kindnesses smooth the more than 148,000 miles of backroads and highways I've traveled.

Even more so, warming my heart and fueling my passion are the stories shared with me by courageous kids and parents experiencing homelessness. Yeah, those kids and parents who according to HUD don't exist.

I'm asking for something here...if you've read this far, kudos! HEAR US needs a modest influx of funding to keep going. A bunch of folks chipping in what they can afford will do the job. People buying our stuff helps too. We're one (we'd like to think worthy) cause among many. If you can help, please do so. And keep rooting for us.

Let's Start At the Very Beginning...Simple as ABC

Crossing the miles, in Tillie, my road-weary motorhome, I've been heartened by countless courageous homeless families and kids willing to share their stories. HEAR US Inc., my unconventional one-woman nonprofit, gives me a venue to share what I've learned about homelessness, particularly that of families, across the land. What I have learned, the ABCs of homelessness, has come mostly from those who experience life without a home.

Recently I enjoyed a reunion with a family I met and filmed last June for Littlest Nomads, our latest short film on the all-too-invisible issue of homeless babies and toddlers. Yolanda, Ken and boys, a delightful Long Island family, had been housed after their catastrophic period of homelessness. Sadly, they're homeless again. But they proudly sat in the front row of our Littlest Nomads screening.

I can't imagine what it would be like to have your image, and that of your homeless family, splashed on the big screen in front of strangers. This family's courage, and others like them, gives much needed voice and visibility to homelessness. Unbelievably some, including our elected officials and policy makers, still don't understand that MILLIONS of homeless families and youth comprise the bulk of the homeless population.

Surging poverty continues to ravage families. It doesn't take much to kick a family into the homeless abyss of destitution. And poverty-creation is now imbedded in our dysfunctional "welfare" systems of government assistance. HUD, the main federal agency charged with housing people, continues to fight our efforts to improve the way they count homelessness.

I watched this family as their images came up on the screen. The kids were smiling. Dad and Mom were somber, and Yolanda's tears could not be hidden.

Sadly, as more families tumble into deep poverty and homelessness, resources to help them are being slashed. Federal poverty policies are pathetic, creating more poverty than they're preventing.  The rich are undoubtedly getting richer.   Proof abounds that homelessness causes severe problems in homeless babies and toddlers. And bureaucrats seem determined to perpetuate homelessness.

At the end of Littlest Nomads, Yolanda, Ken and kids belt out the ABC's song, an annoying repetitive tune I included for one reason. Ending homelessness is like learning your ABCs. It seems difficult, but if you try you can do it. Yolanda, Ken, and countless more families could point out the basics to our government's leaders.

If you want to do something to help, urge your Congressperson to co-sponsor The Homeless Children and Youth Act, HR 32. Simple, just go to this link. It will help HUD rethink their approach to homeless families. They can use the remedial lesson. Makes me want to do a Julie Andrew's Sound of Music version of Do-Re-Mi. That'll get 'em.

Tongue-tied Trouble-maker, Awed...and Grateful!

I am rarely at a loss for words. But on 4/27/12 at the Bridge Communities Celebrating Women, Transforming Lives luncheon, I didn't say what I'd like to say. So let's see if I can take a shot at it now.

The Transforming Lives award is what they gave me. Yeah, perhaps they can make an argument for that, but it's a one-sided case. What I'd say is my life has been transformed. Since I've been on this crazy-as-a-loon venture called HEAR US, a seven-year journey to raise awareness of homeless children and youth, I've met some inspiring people. They've transformed me from a narrow-minded former shelter director/homeless advocate to a rabid pit-bull advocate.

How could I be anything else? Not if I have been listening and observing the incredible efforts of these families and youth to not only survive homelessness but to thrive in spite of it. I could fill blog after blog with story after story of intrepid parents (mostly moms)  and youth who make me look like a wuss when it comes to persistence.

I have been honored to stand by their side as they've tried to move mountains of federal, state and local bureaucracies that caused/perpetuated their homelessness. What help I've been, and we've shared some success, has kept me sane.

I've witnessed the unconditional love of parents when their kids, well, messed up. Kids that others would toss to the streets find their deeds punished but their personhood intact. This from parents who've many times have known intense rejection from their parents.

I've been showered with blessings, grace, support, encouragement, and lots of opportunities as Tillie, my beleaguered home/office on wheels (gotta be a more fitting name for RVs when recreation plays no part in the vehicle's life) and I traversed over 140,000 miles of the amazingly beautiful and revealing back roads, strewn spaghetti-like over our great nation. The lion's share of the well-wishing comes from the families and kids I meet.

I've had people toss money in Tillie's window. Folks I know who have little to spare put HEAR US in their budget as monthly online donors. My high school English teacher, a Joliet Franciscan sister, gives me "gas money" when I stop to mooch electricity from their parish's aging parking lot light pole.

Audiences of every ilk, from colleges in California to the tarnished halls of Congress, have responded to the stories I've been honored to share via My Own Four Walls,  on the edge and YouTube. I wish I could take full credit for these documentaries, but nope. My video guru, Laura Vazquez out at Northern Illinois University in DeKalb gets buckets of credit. She and her students, past, present and hopefully future, have shaped my fledgling film efforts.

Kind and generous people have donated impressive sums of money to support these films. School districts, shelters, youth groups, religious education programs from Florida to Hawaii have purchased HEAR US stuff which goes a long way to keeping me rolling. Social media fans did a powerful lot of clicking to earn HEAR US a $5000 gas card from CITGO this past fall. Facebook friends fling encouragement and interesting stories my way.

Yeah, the HEAR US board deserves heaps of kudos too. Just being my friend doesn't cut if for the board. They've had to go way out of their way to make this implausible approach to running a nonprofit organization work. And besides that, they've had to encourage me when things seemed, um, a little goofy.

Before you go accusing me of devising a brilliant scheme to garner attention to homeless families and youth, let's back up. I'm the instrument. No matter how "brilliant" this might be, it's nothing without the trust, confidence and articulate openness of the countless people--kids and adults--that I've filmed. When they risk it all to let me into their lives, I hold that as a treasured jewel that I'll "show off" but protect. Media friends old and new have covered the HEAR US saga, shining a light on homelessness in ways that can only help, like the incredible coverage we got on this issue from HufPo last week.

With homelessness likely to be with us for quite some time, I won't be able to rest. I'll end this with Bridge Communities' founder and poet laureate Mark Milligan's poem he penned for me:

Troublemaker

for Diane

Fit a camel

straight through the

eye of a needle?

Hard to do, hard to think about.

But it must get easier

to contemplate the Kingdom

if you actually sell all--yes all--

of your stuff.

Your precious stuff.

Every do-gooder's dream come true.

Sell your stuff.

Hit the road. 

Do something really strong--

Kerouac with a cause.

Trouble-making, film-taking, idea-baking, politician-shaking

Troublemaker.

Advocating, demonstrating, agitating

Troublemaker.

She is just a Troublemaker.

Tell the truth, tell it loud,

tell it often, tell it proud.

It's about time they hear us.

Hear Us Now!

Convergence: Catholic and Country

Convergence. Big word that, in this case, means amazing the way things came together. Today--International Women's Day--was one of those days. First the Catholic piece.

My Facebook page is fairly active (you're welcome to friend me!). I try to post items that encourage interaction, centered around my nonprofit, HEAR US Inc., or other related  topics. Today I heard from a woman who was a feisty 13-year old when I last saw her. Way back in 1974-75, Cathy sat in the class of 8th graders at a Catholic grade school where I malformed my students, teaching them to think for themselves. Being of English-Irish heritage in a Slovenian school, replacing Sister Dominic Marie who must have taught the grandparents of these kids, I was, um, not appreciated by most parents. I lasted a year there.

My surprise hearing from Cathy was doubled because she brought greetings from an old friend, Elizabeth, who was, and probably still is, a venerable lay leader in the Catholic church where I was quite active from the mid-70s until 1990. Liz and I taught together, conspired (for the good) together, and respected each other as the out-of-the-box thinkers we both tried to be.

Country. Fast forward to this afternoon when I landed in Savannah, hoping to interview parents and unaccompanied youth who are homeless, those "not homeless enough" to be considered really homeless by HUD, the US Department of Housing and Urban Development. Persons who've lost housing due to crisis and are staying with friends/family or others, in motels, and/or are bouncing between couches, motels, and other places aren't counted by HUD in their annual census. It's another story, but if you're curious, go to our website, http://helphomelesskidsnow.org for more info.

Savannah, this vibrant, picturesque community, is also the birthplace of Juliette "Daisy" Gordon Low, founder of the venerable Girl Scouts. My Girl Scout sash, filled with merit badges, was my pride for many of my preteen to teen years. I pugnaciously bought a box of GS cookies this week in honor of the Indiana congressman who ranted about Girl Scouts destroying America, "bent on promoting communism, lesbianism and subverting 'traditional American family values,' according to MSNBC.com."

So, convergence. I'm here in Savannah on the 100th birthday weekend of the Girl Scouts. My mission is, as it has been for over 25 years, in some way helping homeless persons. This recent news story outlines my involvement. Mary Ann Lopez, the adept reporter, had asked why I do what I do? How did I get started?

I'd have to give credit, in part, to the Girl Scouts, with their other-focused mission. And my Catholic upbringing, with the Joliet Franciscans working furiously to true-up my moral and spiritual compass as I cantankerously stumbled through my grade school through college education under their influence.


Convergence, Part 2. With much dismay I read my homelessness-theme news headlines tonight as I sit in Tillie, my motorhome/office/vehicle, parked in a social service agency's lot in Savannah. A shelter director in Sacramento, CA had expressed support for abortion rights and gay marriage. Her shelter receives (a piddly amount of) funding from the Sacramento Diocese. Make that received. They are ending their support of Francis House because of her remarks.  

For that very reason I will stick around until Saturday for the centennial events celebrating 100 years of Girl Scouting. I will proudly stand with my non-conformist sisters whose subversive influence has led me to a life of service with the people rejected by money-grubbers and robber barons.

St. Francis and Juliette Daisy Gordon Low would be pleased.

Pigeons and People

The line formed slowly but steadily outside Reno's one homeless shelter. Men standing patiently, quietly on the sunny sidewalk adjacent to railroad tracks and on the back side of the minor league baseball team's outfield in the "Biggest Little City In the World."

Like clockwork, 2 men appeared, pushing a cart and carrying a card table. As they unfolded the legs, the men in the line perked up just a bit. Plastic bins filled with donuts were distributed, a free Dunkin' Donuts if you will. Each man selected his favorite and moved on, man after man after man. Most took a bite as they walked away.

I watched as one man took a bite, chewed vigorously, and then spat out the finely ground morsels, spraying them on the parking lot like a donut sprinkler. Hmmm. Wonder what that's about? He took a few steps repeating the ritual with no one paying him any mind, except the pigeons. They appeared to know him, waiting for him to distribute donut crumbs to the swarms of these "winged-rats" not lined up as orderly, but every bit as patient and expectant as their 2-legged human counterparts.

My dismay oozed forth, on many levels, as I thought of this dehumanizing ritual, 2 wordless but efficient donut distributors, dozens of men without homes. Death by donut probably won't be instant, nor will death by dignity destruction.

Wonder what kind of lives each of these men had before standing in this line? Wonder if their career plan included a survival donut break? Wonder if the distributors feel good about their "charity," serving day-old donuts to men and pigeons?

Sure, homeless people may get free stuff, but they have to wait a long time, and after all that it's not good for them anyhow. No coffee. No tables. No chairs. No dignity. No respect. Just like feeding pigeons.

Power to the Campers! (And Bring on the Politicans!)

James, one of the coordinators of Camp Hope

When is "camping" not really camping? When it's done for survival.

Sadly but predictably, the theme of "ending homelessness in 10 years" has faded like the Wendy's iconic commercial asking "Where's the beef?" The hucksters that sold the bill of goods to the unquestioning lawmakers and the public really didn't pay attention to (or give a rat's ass) how this strategy would work with the economy tanking (even in the early 2000s some folks were coming up short).

So now we have a slogan and no money (they say) to end homelessness. What's a woman (or man) to do? Camp. Well, if you can call survivalism camping.

Last week on my western leg of my HEAR US tour, I visited a municipally-sanctioned campground in Las Cruces, NM. Camp Hope, the latest addition to the Community of Hope, a campus on the edge of LC with services for the desperate and disenfranchised, was set up in November to accommodate at least some of the hundreds of homeless men and women roaming this mid-sized city's streets.

It gets cold here. And hot. And the gospel mission across from Camp Hope which houses those willing to pray for their place in a crowded dorm room still has plenty of customers. Folks still roam the streets, and sleep wherever they can when they can. It's a hell of a life.

Perhaps the brightest spot of this short-term venture (it's slated to close in March--just in time for the winds and crappy weather to blow in) are the guys who've organized it and the attitude of the "campers" who occupy this dusty patch behind the Community of Hope building.

Matthew and James are the dream team coordinating this effort. They share the Camp Hope office trailer--as administrators and as residents of CHTC--a tough combo to balance. One compensates for the other--PR spokesperson, as impressively demonstrated in this Jan. 1 article in the Albuquerque Journal.  But they both take their responsibilities seriously, and they're both rightfully proud of what they've done.

They should be. As the founder of the nation's 1st municipally-sanctioned Tent City in Aurora, IL way back in 1990, I know of the challenges this type of establishment presents. The findings of my unannounced visit would earn them a 5-star rating. Safety, respect, responsibility...those are priorities.

One caveat--which we discussed--was that their success might lull the unenlightened to think that sleeping under the stars, albeit under a nylon wall--would be considered a solution to homelessness, much like the snake oil salesman promised in the early 2000s.

The other critical issue --homeless families are still shelter-less in Las Cruces. That hurts my heart the most. As it should all the leaders and citizens of this otherwise delightful community of the City of Crosses.

What these enterprising guys prove is that people without homes are not without the ability to accomplish great things. They've committed to the concept of communal responsibility and neighborliness far more than the hoity-toity folks in fancy digs.

Maybe going backwards is a good thing. Sure will be lots of us looking for nice neighborhoods for our campers and tents. They invited me to join them. With gas prices heading upward, it's a tempting offer! At the very least the presidential candidates should stop by.

Seems to me Mayor Ken Miyagishima has an important issue in his 2nd term of office. Make sure families have a safe place to stay when they lose their housing. I think with all the big-box stores shuttered he might consider setting up a family version of Tent City inside, using tents to provide "rooms" for parents and kids. He can get valuable pointers from James and Matt about empowering people and campground logistics.

Echos of Irony in the Library of Congress

Ornate. Impressive. Unparalleled. Historic. Ironic.

Last week, after a grueling but good day of getting kids in front of congresspersons to talk about how sucky homelessness is (because the kids know firsthand), the gang HEAR US transported from PA for the event were headed for the subway station. The 16-year-old girl, Ashley, asked if we could stop in the Library of Congress.

I was tired, but agreeable, and everyone seemed to want this detour, so I said sure. Ironically, for all my trips to DC, for my history of being a stellar library club member in high school, and my love of books, I've never been to the Library of Congress.

It was late, about 4:30, and they closed at 5, but we were right there. The kids scattered within eye-shot, and were being good. Leslie, one of the 2 moms in our group, and I ended up standing together--first marveling at the astounding beauty and history before us--then talking about her and her family's fall from housed to house-less.

The story was as unique as everyone's, stereotypes be damned. Homelessness happens to all kinds of folks. Her life was as "normal" as could be. She's educated, has a work history deserving of a congressional medal of honor, and she's tried to do the right thing for her kids.

The thread that seems to flow through lives of those without homes is a string of bad luck. Health problems, mechanical failures of a car, and unscrupulous employers seemed to do the trick for her. From housed and independent to unhoused and dependent on others, teetering on a thin-ice support system, her tumble into the vortex of homelessness was in many ways ironic.

What struck me, as she quietly laid out to me how her life shattered, was the irony--her story would make a good book. She's telling this tale in the palatial surroundings of the Library of Congress, where her kids romped enthusiastically, marveling at this massive tribute to knowledge--teeming with volumes of every kind of information. But we evidently lack the wisdom needed to address homelessness.

As we talked, Ashley copied all of the quotes high on the walls in the Great Hall, including:

THEY ARE NEVER ALONE THAT ARE ACCOMPANIED WITH NOBLE THOUGHTS
Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586), Arcadia (1590)

Teachers have reminded students time after time: our noble thoughts keep us from being alone. But thoughts are not enough. We need to act upon them--at least the noble ones.

Maybe, in our quest for learning, we ignore what we have before us. TMI? We know more than we need to know to make the world right, or at least to provide the bridge between the nomadic lives millions find themselves in and a secure, basic existence that would be a welcomed improvement.

Perhaps our next Capitol event should be a one-on-one Library of Congress tour with Members of Congress led by an expert in homelessness--the parent, youth or kid who can explain how they got into this situation, and be wise enough to point to the path out of it.

By the time the tour ended it would be perfectly clear--those elected officials accompanied by noble thoughts, and those who should be left alone.