Photography Thinks
Chief came by to wish Paul a Merry Christmas.
“Did you see Rita Markle? COTS would not have taken him in if he was drunk. I told Tim and Wayne that he was dying. His lips were blue. He couldn’t stand or breathe…”
Chief and Jason built the memorial. Someone stole the sign and the Buddah. Paul’s friend from the store across the street gave them the sticks to make the cross.
Paul sat on Cherry St after he woke up, whatever time or day it happened to be or when he wasn’t in jail (criminal trespass and open containers) or at the hospital (car accident, beatings, or falls). People walked by. Some gave him money. Some gave him food. He was always courteous. People who don’t know each other have lost something in their lives without really knowing what it was or how to replace it.
Autumn bought votives and candles.
She wanted to take him home, but he wouldn’t get clean.
Very sad, both said, and not fair.
On her way back to treatment, fourth time since I have known her. “You only want to do this once,” I tell her. She’s not connected now, but, luckily, not broken. She winces in the cold. Nothing we can do for her. Conditions of release prevent her from drinking. “I don’t want to spend Christmas in jail. Can’t drink because they can breathalyze me for no reason.” If only sobriety were so easy! She does fine in treatment; doesn’t do well when she returns to the hood. Same place. Same people.
I met OB on Cherry Street paying his respects to Paul. He gave Paul a few bucks every once in a while; Spoke about life with him. “A blessing and gift you gave me,” he said when he looked at my image. “I needed to feel a real emotion about this. Too often we walk by people with a false smile on our faces. I’m not feeling so alone, anymore.”
I wonder who will be next in line?
He’d sit on Cherry St, just up the street from Rite Aid. Before the Gear Exchange moved to Church St, the yellow jackets would chase him from under the enclosed area in front of the door.
Sometimes he put his crate near the wall near the grate so he could stash his beer (avoiding a ticket for an open container) and his litter (so he wouldn’t be burdened during travel).
Told not to block the sidewalk, he’d sit close to the street, putting his box or his butt in a place where cars backing into a parking space wouldn’t hit him. He’d also chase the sun.
He usually travelled with his friend, Eric.
He went to the park occasionally. He didn’t like the drug scene, the phony friendships, or the antics. Eric learned from him, helped him and was with him close to the end. Eric is now alone on the street.
Someone found Paul dead on a grate in downtown Burlington, probably in the same place I had found him time and time again. I just wasn’t around this time. Many tried to help him, too. They weren’t there either. Come on now; we all got lives. His sister, Mary, and Matt Young had a plan in place to put him back in treatment. He went to FAHC, I am told, and wasn’t able to deal with the protocols. So he died, needlessly, or so it seems. So it goes, Vonnegut would say.
No one has published a book for do gooders, especially those who don’t expect and aren’t interested in thanks for their charity. We do mitzvot because we can, not because we want something in return. Let us thank others for the chance to give, before we ask for thanks from those we serve.
Others out there who are also in need should not suffer the same fate. While we can never do enough, we should not stop trying, despite the best efforts of those in trouble to resist or obstruct. Our community is only as good as our committment to those least desirable to help.
You might think our friendship wasn’t worth the effort! Could be. But, I will do it again, gladly. And may God comfort his family among the other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem. Amen, brother.
Multitasking. Begging and recharging.
Steve says he has been homeless for three months. He lived with his brother who died. Just hard to imagine that a man with one leg, who is losing his second to diabetes, doesn’t have a place to live. He blames it on a social policy that provides housing for people from Eastern Europe who fled to avoid ethnic cleansing. Not an uncommon complaint in Burlington and not one supported by any facts. I suggested there wasn’t enough aid for all who needed it.
Weather slightly bitter, as am I for being shut out of the caucus this weekend for reasons I cannot even imagine, but who cares about either of these problems. I will continue to live here, hoping the place lives up to its promises.
Miro walked alone up Church Street. He seemed upbeat about the election and upbeat about serving at a time when the job would be more difficult than if someone forced from office by term limits had succeeded in his task and all he had to do was color in the spaces. Why anyone would want to be a hall monitor in this zoo, escapes me. He thinks he can do the job, okay, but for what reason?
Charming, personable, knowledgeable and seemingly experienced in the ways of small city government, can he, if elected, move the city ahead, leaving the 1950’s where it is mired and make it a place more attractive to a growing upper lower and middle class than a nomadic college crowd? More crime. More poor. More vacancies. Not so chic shops. Lots of coffee shops and semi-fast food, but not a lot of cuisine. Does he support art? How about help for the hopeless and hapless. Is he a puppet of the authorities he has served or a visionary? He says he is a hands on problem solver; if nominated, he gets a chance to run for a thankless job.
Good luck dude. Thanks for the portrait.
Jobs my ass. Eliminate cigarettes to promote healthy living and sell lotto tickets out of machines. We already pump our own gas. The poor and less educated are the biggest consumers of these items whose sale through sin taxes support our spending. Next, no more minimum wage jobs at Cumberland or 7/11. It leaves the rich to tax who are expected to use their wealth to produce jobs through the trickle down effect. Right.
So, they said Paul thumbed out, eh. Nope. Back after a four day stay at FAHC (actually it was three, but he’s not counting).