Photography Thinks
So, his adult life has not been on easy street. Spent less time free, than not free. Cannot find work. Doesn’t have an education. Basically disabled because he can’t do whatever there is to do and no one would hire him anyway. He stands, asking for small bits of change. Cops kicked him off the ramp coming off I91, because of danger to himself and drivers. But what could they do to him? Put him in jail?
No easy answers.
Not much traffic recently on Church Street. People in jail. People in motels. People in programs. Some people hanging out on couches. Others, who knows. One warm day and they hit the streets. Not to say they lost contact. Just followed enough dramas. Ready to go full blown, getting in and out of who knows how much trouble, again.
Dave just got good news about his claim for benefits. He may have more trouble keeping the money than getting it.
Larry’s girlfriend broke up with him last night. He said he had a heart attack. But they let him out for breakfast.
Dennis Terrible had to go to jail to sleep it off. Too drunk for the hospital. He got kicked out of the hoosegow. Walked back to Church St.
Tommy needed a dollar. Dave gave him the dollar I had just given to him. We call that the trickle down in Burlington.
Tommy must have spent his money. Sitting on Church Street, holding a sign that says “Homeless and Hungry. Anything Helps. Thank You.” If you cannot read it, its because he doesn’t write big. People cannot sit on the street, begging, without signs. He knows his First Amendment rights, Tommy does.
She’s homeless and hungry.
I bought a Powerball ticket. Who knows?
Usually, when I walk down Church Street, elation fills my heart when a person who hasn’t been around for a while finds me. Jim is one of the guys whose smile always brightens my day.
During an early winter cold spell, I carried a sleeping bag around for days looking for him. Our schedules sometimes don’t coincide, me being an early morning person, while he sometimes roams until late at night and then sleeps in or out, depending on the weather. Jim said he’d been around, just not at the same time as me. I must have missed his decline.
Last time I shot him and his daughter Amanda was Christmas morning. They were on their way to a meal at Junior’s, an annual food event for street people. Both seemed a little beaten down. She’s away right now. People say she was doing OK for a while. I saw him again in mid-January. He was talking with a cop about something. I gave him a dollar, staring without talking, before moving along. Enough drama. Didn’t know if he was engaged in a social or investigative conversation.
But, on St. Patrick’s day, as he waited for the parade of Ireland Cement Mixers, we chatted. He looked awful. Even the days in the past when he had been carousing and not taking care of himself, he had a sense of life. He had helped people who had fallen or who couldn’t take care of themselves, like Paul O’Toole. Out early, he would pick up litter in City Hall Park. He told jokes and stories. Had a high sense of morals and etiquette. Got pissed if you didn’t greet him and upset if he missed you. Today, he answered the question, “how are you,” with “… not too good. Doctors say I don’t have a chance.” He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, though I asked several times.
He refused my offer to buy him a new coat. “Not going to be needing a new coat where I am going.” Turned down my open offer to do anything which would make him more comfortable or happy. “No need. I have been all the places I needed to go and done all I wanted to do. Just waiting for the end.” Damn. I took a dollar out of my wallet and offered it to him. He refused and then reached into his pocket, took out a silver dollar. “Here Duck. You take this dollar. Its for all the dollars you have given me over the years.” “I don’t need your dollar,” I said. “Then give it to someone who does. When was the last time a homeless person gave you a dollar?’ I took it.
What would you do if you didn’t have food to eat or friends who would feed you? Where would you go? What would you eat? Where would you sit? Whom would you know?
I went there to find out. Arrived late, 10:00ish. Breakfast over. Lunch in the bins. Grab a tray and a plate. Point. Noodles and ham. Mac and cheese. Something else. Not much green. Hard boiled eggs from breakfast. Got reprimanded for taking a muffin without using the tongs. Won’t do that again.
Knew a few people from the street. Didn’t want to intrude or take pictures. One guy asked why I haven’t delivered him his print. Hadn’t seen him. I wish I had been carrying it.
Sat at a table that had a tray with two empty plates. A guy sat down next to me, facing the food service area. “Only two rules, here, it is not like a Seder. Don’t take food with your hands and don’t ask for seconds if you haven’t finished your firsts.” Jewish guy named Everett. Knew George Solomon. Wouldn’t let me take his picture. Likes movies, old moviesLives in his car, except when the temperature goes to zero. “”11 years in my car. Guess that means I ain’t that homeless.”
Mollie keeps trying. She has obstacles to conquer. Needs a place to live and a job, not to mention some support. She isn’t giving up and could use a break. Day after day she stands on the street, doing what she has to do. Got to give her some credit for the effort, though some people are less sympathetic to her than others.
Karl had his hips fixed. He is up and walking. Probably should be giving his hips more time to heal, but doesn’t like to be kept down. Shane says he could get a job as a nutritionist; he cannot fight the system, because he doesn’t have formal training. No way either can help Mollie, except to be supportive.
Scotty has a cane which he doesn’t use. He says that he sees shapes and doesn’t like looking down.
I had just seen him on the waterfront. A little out of his way. Lives in Winooski. Walks everywhere. He always looks stylish, takes quick evenly paced steps, capped head up, similing in an impish sort of way. Wears lots of different outfits, colors and labels. Must spend some time bargain hunting at the local thrift shops.
A bike. Hey. It warmed up a little here. Not enough for a bike. He bought it off someone. Clean. High tech. Just have to wonder if it is swag. But in this world, he becomes a buyer in due course. People like him don’t go to bike stores, unless they are selling reconditioned bikes. But, there was more to reach the eye. His arm had a cast and he was wearing sunglasses on a cloudy, gray day.
Not good dude. He’s such a gently guy. Not going to say what happened either. “Oh, the guy from the government did it.” Law on the street. Don’t tell. No one to protect him. He doesn’t think safe or not safe. He just goes from one place to another. Cares about how he looks, but only for the now, not for the tomorrow. Will wait for his smile again. “Hey,” he says, “got a dollar for a cup of coffee?”
Hunger doesn’t know a season. People living on the edge need food all the time, every day. Don’t take it for granted that all the cupboards have been filled. Burlington has a lot of people who could use more food in their cabinets.
Nutrition comes after all the other expenses. What does a place to live cost? How do you get to the store? Car cost. Public transportation takes time and effort. Walk to the neighborhood store to shop and you pay a premium. How about fresh fruits and vegetables? Cannot buy frozen without a freezer. Fast food kills. Suppose you have a disability. Who carries the food or prepares it? Hmm. Given the choice of buying toilet paper, diapers or feminine hygiene products, which do you select with your last dollar? And, some are dealing with other human problems that interfere with clear thinking.
Very complicated, yes! Here’s an easy solution. Don’t give it much thought, unless you want to. Just fill a bag from the supplied list. Someone will deliver it to JUMP and a person who cannot make ends meet will get it. You will receive an easy mitzvah.
Good Shabbos.
David said the night would be full of fun. What he does for fun, who knows? But, though his life had different reference points than mine, his goals seem the same. If it ain’t fun, why do it? Me. I did many things I didn’t think were fun to go along or get along. He didn’t. Or, if he did, he said, at some time, enough.
This David follows a different path. Always looks unsure of where he is or where he is going. Aimless. Wandering. Sits. Stares. Rocks.
Jerry doesn’t have a home. Feels lucky he has a place to stay. “Spoke with HUD; certificates cut back.” I don’t really understand the system, but the so-called cutbacks scheduled for a few days from now cannot mean more housing or social welfare for those unable to care for themselves.
Confined to wheelchair, he parked himself outside a State store. No way to tell what he got from passer bys on their way to buy happy juice. He seemed resigned to doing all he could do to make it.
Bitterly cold out there. He just sat. “You still takin pictures?” I brought my book over to him. Just some recents. “I know him,” he said of Larry’s image, “old-timer.” Knew Karl, the poet, also. Does that mean something I don’t really appreciate? He’s saying that they are making it and so can I.
I see these guys so irregularly. When I do, it makes my day to know they live. Living hand to mouth. I have never done that.
He stays at the shelter on North Street. Looking for a more permanent place which may only give him shelter from the storm. Not ready to ask why he needs it or why no one else has come forward to help. No family. No friends. No social service worker. Wait until it is my turn.
Great eyes, eh!
So, Larry’s friends moved him from the camp during the cold spell. He has a foot problem from his inattention to sores and his inability to change his own clothes. They cleaned him up, raised his spirits and protected him from the elements. Maybe friends overstates the relationships. Hard to tell. The word connotes closeness. Knowing intimate details doesn’t make people close, only vulnerable. But, if you cannot be hurt, then what?
How do these guys qualify as home care attendants? No resumes in this business. You show up for duty, ready to serve. Still gotta live your life, somehow. Mishegas. Oh, how I wish they understood mishegas. I left last night to go to shul for shabbos, Matt said l’chaim. How’d he know? Who cares. I walked into the camp. Saw one of my images on the wall. Not interested, though tears came to my eyes. JFK’s image also hung on the wall.
