Jeffy's Choice?

Sometimes I can’t help but think back on my now-grown children playing with friends, years ago, in the backyard. I think of Power Rangers and princesses, of karate kicks and sand cookies. I remember the sure-voiced pronouncements of what they’d be when they grew up:

“I want to be a singer.”

“I want to be a mommy.”

“I want to be a teacher.”

“I want to be a ninja.”

The list went on, of course, in the middle of daring swings from the climbing rope on the fort that housed the slide on the south side of the swing set: “I want to be…” almost anything. The sky was the limit.

It’s kind of strange, but not once in all those years of parental eavesdropping did I hear a child say, “When I grow up, I want to be homeless.”

Imagine that. All those dreams about growing up, and being homeless was never in the mix. Surprised? Probably not.

Just last week Ellen left her home, and in so doing removed herself from her longstanding role as a convenient punching bag for her boyfriend. She’s taking shelter with friends of a friend with church connections while her visible bruises heal and she gets a resume together. Ellen will need a significant boost in personal income to become self-sufficient. The training she needs to get that boost will take time and resources she doesn’t appear to have at present. It will take a lot of support from a growing network of helpers to see Ellen through this season of homelessness.

Ellen is quite uncomfortable in her role as a newly homeless woman. Like many homeless neighbors, she never intended to become homeless. She didn’t choose to be here. But she is anyway.

Of the hundreds of homeless people I’ve had the privilege of meeting over the years I can only think of a couple for whom homelessness was a welcome choice. It certainly is not the preference of Jeff, a middle-aged man who lost his factory job and then his apartment during a time of deep depression. He lives in his van in a friend’s driveway right now, but can’t drive it anywhere until he gets his license back when his DUI suspension is over. He’s working hard as a day laborer when he can get the work, but he can’t always make the transportation connections he needs. There’s no question his choice to drink, and then to drink at the wrong time, fed the conditions that led to his homelessness. But do you really think Jeff hoped to end up where he is today?

Do you think, when he was a child, someone asked, “Jeffy, what do you want to be when you grow up?” and he answered, “When I grow up, I want to be homeless” and as a result pursued the goal to be homeless until he so recently achieved it? Homelessness wasn’t even a conscious option in Jeffy’s dreams, in all likelihood. Homelessness isn’t a desired option for the adult Jeff, either.

If you take time to talk things over with a few homeless people (share a cup of coffee sometime), you’ll probably find that they don’t make many excuses for themselves. In fact, you might discover that they have keen insight on the conditions (some admittedly self-imposed) that made them homeless.

You’ll also find that, almost without exception, they’d rather be safe in a home they could call their own than in a van or on the streets.

Just like us, in so many ways.

“No” as a First Response?

I remember walking the streets of Omaha a long time ago with John, a mentor who was coaching me on encountering the homeless. He simply said, “When they ask you for something, don’t think money. Think lunch. Otherwise you could end up paying for someone’s self-destruction.”

And as if to prove John’s point, up walked Danny. Mid-twenties, greasy hair, dumbfounded look, hugging a dirty trenchcoat around a neon green t-shirt, ragged khakis, untied hightop tennis shoes. Virtually every stereotypical detail of a down-and-outer or an underground punk rocker of the day.

“Hey, midster.” Danny sounded like he was talking through a thick head cold, and maybe he was. Then he lost his balance and bounced into me. Even in my rookie year of street stuff, I recognized the pungent smell of alcohol and sweat bleeding through his pores. Now nose-to-nose with me Danny asked, “Got two bucks so I can get some cigarettes?”

John didn’t trust my resolve at the time, so he spoke up. “Nope, we don’t have any cash to give away today. But we can buy you lunch somewhere around here if you like.”

I was convinced Danny would say no to the offer and be on his way. Instead, he looked around at the restaurant options on the block and, pointing to a working man’s diner, said, “There.”

So began an eight-year interface with Danny. We started by sharing meals and coffee. Then came the process of encouraging Danny to dry out. Then we helped Danny move into an apartment, and then setting up a shoeshine stand. Often he thrived. Sometimes he stumbled. He helped us pack boxes when my family moved from Omaha to Colorado Springs.

Because he doesn’t read, write, or have a phone, we keep up on Danny mostly through mutual friends. To this day, Danny’s life doesn’t look much like a Hallmark movie ending. But he’s still in his apartment, and still working the shoeshine stand, and sober.

Therefore, in what could be a very unpopular position with some reading this blog I am going to endorse, with confidence, the “common wisdom” answer to a common question when encountering people who self-identify as being homeless.

Here’s the question: If someone who appears to be (or self-identifies as being) homeless personally asks me for money, should I give it?

Here’s the common wisdom answer: No. I agree, and make no mistake, I understand that saying “no” to this question has been characterized as being unfeeling, or at least lacking a sense of solidarity with the homeless. Such could be the case if one uses “No” as a response to shut off all contact and conversation with the homeless.

However, what if you said “No” about forking over cash and quickly followed up with, “But I’ll buy you lunch if you have the time,” and then actually shared lunch with them? Or, “Let me drive you to a place that can really help you out,” and then drove them to the local rescue mission to introduce them to someone there who helps homeless people every day?

Of course, you’d have to be ready to follow through with both the time and resources. And you’d really need to be ready to carry on a conversation -- and maybe even develop the beginning of a relationship. You’d take a few moments to offer a neighbor a better way to cope with life, and possibly restore horizons of possibilities they’ve long ago forgotten.

I used to buy my way out of encounters of any length with homeless people by saying “yes” to their first ask for money. Yet Danny’s transformation began with a “no” to his initial ask for money. That’s because, in this case, “no” was the launching pad into contact and conversation that produced the long-term help Danny needed to battle and conquer homelessness.

It’s gut-check time. Are you up for saying “no” so you can offer a better way, maybe even a supportive presence, to a neighbor in need?