Phil at the Fishing Pier

Weather chilly. Phil rode his bike down the hill. Comes here everyday. He awaits the Spring to cookout behind the water treatment building or at North Beach.

Muskrat slides on the ice, seeking cover, blending in to the winter cover colors.

Phil’s off on his bike to the library. Well maintained, the parts come from spares he gathers from well-off UVM students who also help him with bottles when he needs some tobacco money. Sturdy and reliable transportation, doctor told him, “bicycle riding is good for the heart.” He says, despite some pressing health problems, that he always has a good day. Talking with him made mine.

Larry’s Back on Church

Hadn’t seen him for a few months. He said he had been at the shelter, sober for at least 8 weeks. Had his first drinks of the season. “Have a few months to wait until I start collecting my retirement. I am taking early retirement at 62.” “What job did you retire from?” “I’ve had a lot of jobs.” “Whose paying your retirement?” “Social security.” “How much you getting?” “$700 something and 31 cents. Don’t forget about the cents.”

“Are you going back on your box?” “What box?” “The box you sit on and ask people for money.” “Of course. Its my job.”

Mike and Richard North on Cherry Street

I know a lot of these people, but I had not met Mike or Richard North until this week. According to Mike, they control the ramp leading off I89. I had meant to visit out there where a whole different crew hangs out to find out what their needs were and whether they were on the social services chart or not. One of the Cots people introduced me to Richard. He agreed to let me take his picture. Mike introduced himself, beseeching me to take his and put it on America’s Most Wanted.

I found the two of them sitting on the shady side of Cherry Street on a cold, cold, cold day. “We slept on the street,” said Richard. “Mike tried to get himself arrested, but he was too drunk.” No wonder he wanted to be on the show.

 

Becky On Cherry

I saw her on a milk crate near Ben and Jerry’s. She looked young, cold, and sad. “Need some food,” I asked? “I need cat food,” she replied. I gasped, immediately thinking she would eat cat food as a tuna substitute. “Do you have enough money for food?” “Yeh, my boyfriend gets SSI and we do a little work, but its barely enough to cover rent and food. I don’t usually come out her to sit. I just need some money to feed my three cats.”

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Church Street Christmas


Buses don’t run on Christmas in Burlington. If you be here, you be here. If you not be here, you be somewhere else. Odd. You can hear the traffic signals. No outsiders. College kids home. Street people all snuggled up in shelters and motels and camps. No stores open, except for Rite Aid. No restaurants. Gray. Cold. Deserted.

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