Tag: street people

Paul O’Toole’s Friends Grieve

 


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.

 

 

 

Molly’s Trying to Get Clean

 

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.

 

Tom O’Brien Knew Paul O’Toole

 


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?

 

Paul’s Place

 

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.

Paul O’toole Be Dead


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.

Sweet and Kate

 


Just relaxing, which is what parks be made for. Were the housing problem to be solved, many of the other issues creating tension like overcrowded prisons and illused hospitals would be eliminated. Then feeding people healthy foods and educating them about civic duty could be the focus of public debate.

Mic just wants to go home to take care of his dogs.