day of a homeless activist

This morning I woke up, to muscle pain, not enough cushion and had slept on my arm, making it all numb. Out side I could here the drizzle of the rain that had fell. Still rolling off the roof. Mosquito had grown by numbers. A good 30 mosquito staring down at me like a t-bone steak hot off the grill. I walk out and down the side of the property to the porta pottie. I notice all fellow members had already left. I gather my things and Leave. I walk a block south to the South side Presbyterian Church , for a pear of clean clothes and breakfast. There our also showers offered on Mondays and Fridays. I quickly am spotted by a few friends. One is a homeless mechanic, works low wages and helps with the family business. The other is one of the coolest people you would meet on the streets. I also see more and more, most wet, talking about the wet and adventurous nite. For breakfast they have BBQ chicken, mac and cheese, cheese enchiladas, salad and soup. They Also offer water, juice and coffee(the crowd favorite).

The building has a old southwest flair, you walk inside and it seem like a much older time period. Litely coated, but rough to the touch. There are a few tall rugged crosses, where you can imagine the pain of anyone placed there. Jesus a peaceful man, homeless, preaching love. A good reason why the homeless may not be liked, because some great men in that circumstance really rippled the system. On the outside bold statements of where the church stands on issues, as if warning those who seeking a friend or an enemy to keep a distance from. Any many ways my friends and I are in safe refuge.

Doug is one of the leads, the ministry is offered threw the use of volunteers, many are those on the street. Either wanting to be part of something positive, trying to maintain a resource, or community service ordered by the court.

I have a few conversations, a few are about where our Safe Park Dream Center stands. I then head out on my way back to the dream center. I am met at the gate by another person staying there. He offers to only let me in if I do his chores. I tell him no, and thats not the way to use authority. He goes his way. I sit there for 30 minutes, until another with a key lets me in. I put my stuff away and head out.

I walk to the downtown library, this is a 15 minute walk. Along the way I see a friend heading in the same direction. He is in a rough spot. Upon getting to downtown, he is doing better and heads a different way. I get to the library, quickly ambushed. One person needing a phone, one needing help with id, another needing someone to talk too, because kicking a habit is too much. Another hasn't ate in a few days. Another needs to know about housing, another needs to find a place to hide her stuff.

Online and in the library, I check my email, Facebook. Nothing new or surprising. I did see some funny stuff, I shared a few articles. I want to post a blog, got a few ideas but writers block is in high drive. I then head over to fourth ave, a road that is the party in this city, there another community of homeless live. I am heading up to meet with them, see what their needs are, their current struggles, maybe we can come up with solutions.  Eerie part is the sidewalks are empty, even the nicks and cranny's where they camouflage to hide in the crowds. I see one, see is getting ready to set up shop, she normal sells prints of her art there on the sidewalk, he significant other Mike, is down the way, playing those old classic rock songs like no other. A few more snacking on some ice cream at dairy queen.

Then up ahead, some cops lights on, surrounding some homeless homies on the sidewalk. It appears they have some train hoppers, they are conversing, joking with them running their identifications, asking them their business here and where they came from. They are dirty, patches on their clothes, backpacks all bundled up , instruments in hand. They write them tickets for sitting on the sidewalk, they let them know they can play music but need to get a permit, they can play music but they have to stand up and do it. The can play music but not in front of these businesses.
I continue on, I see a business owner hand out some dog food to some homeless homies with pets, I see a elderly man, who should have no problem getting elderly assistance, tell me he hopes for a bigger crowd so he doesn't have to spend another night in the rain. His sign says jokes for a buck, songs free to give luck.
I see another, he is cleaned up, he has new clothes, a girl on his arm. He explains after 5 years he finally got housing, he is doing good, and now trying to start a business with help from his family. He humbly, gives credit to us co founders at safe park, spending time with him, to see what he needs, and being there without judgement, so he has a place to be when his choices weren't the best.

I spend some time with him, loving the good news, makes everything worth it. The nights in the rain, the days in jail, the blistering Arizona sun. I get a call, and meet that person for lunch, from there we go to a meeting, then to meet with a sponsor. Then online to do paper work.
This is the day of a homeless activist, a day of what others call a cultural worker. Welcome!