It’s Tuesday at 5:30 am and I’m standing in line waiting for a cup of coffee, a bowl of oatmeal and a bagel. Granted, this is not part of the morning routine for most folks in Phoenix, however standing in line for anything is a daily duty for the homeless. There is a slight damp chill in the air. I am grateful that the storm has passed us by. My hooded sweatshirt keeps the wind off but doesn’t shed water.
The line is about thirty folks long but moves quickly to the beat of Christian Music playing in the background. This group serves every Tuesday and Thursday mornings. This ministry, “Redeemed Outreach Center is located in two renovated houses on Jefferson and 12th Avenue, just around the corner from the CASS (Central Arizona Shelter Services). The ministry workers, most of whom were homeless before joining this program, get up at 3:30 and set up. One worker told me they didn’t get to bed till after midnight last night.
Along with the food, music and occasional Bible readings, counseling is offered. Once in a while, one of the homeless decides they’ve had enough of the streets and join the ministries’ program if they have a bed. Many programs, if they have room for a person or persons will say, ‘we have a bed’. Most homeless are not interested as they have been in several programs, both secular and faith based. Some folks prefer ‘street life’.
In many cases, these people have an uneasy truce with streets. After a few months, or years, many lack the ability to successfully live with others.
Waiting, I remember the time when all I needed to do to get a cup of coffee was to walk into my kitchen. After I pick up my coffee -it’s early for solid food-, I walk over to a collection of mis-matched chairs set on a dirt area that doubles as a front lawn and parking lot. While I eat, the music stops, and a woman begins reading from the Bible. She has a mixed reception. Some wander around, but many sit and listen. After about ten minutes she ends with a prayer and the announcement that she will be sharing more later. When the music resumes people get back in line for more coffee and maybe another bowl of oatmeal. It helps to dunk the bagels; it softens them up.
“Faith Based” groups are very active in the “Zone”, passing out food and clothing. Several send buses and vans on Wednesday evening and Sunday to collect the ‘faithful’. Along with the promise of spiritual food there is the clincher of a hot meal. I have known one or two homeless people who got up and off the streets and became involved in a ministry. Phoenix First Assembly, one of the ministries that come down here, has one of the largest bus ministries in the country. In California, they have the Dream Center which has programs that feed thousands annually. Other local churches with flocks of all sizes are making their presence felt down here. Organizations and individuals, both secular and religious help reduce the steadily rising costs of providing for the homeless. In addition, there are several city, county, state food banks in the valley. With a bit of effort, there is no need to go hungry.
It’s around 11am, lunch time here, and I am standing in line again. I’ve become an expert. All that is required is patience. The food lines can take on an almost festive attitude when something special is being served.
One of my favorites is spaghetti over at the “Andre House”. Besides good food, they provide other services, showers, clothes and other necessities. Much of their outreach is staffed with volunteers, from various businesses and other organizations. Sometimes they will be wearing their companies hat or T-shirt. Their presence here is a wonderful reminder that we are not forgotten.
This line is at the St. Vincent’s de Paul services building. It is located on the Campus behind a six-foot-high black rod iron fence. At mealtime, they slide a gate open and we line up to go into their cafeteria.
Unlike standing in line at the market or the theatre, standing in a homeless line is never dull. There is an ever-changing kaleidoscope of people and behaviors. There are line rushers, folks who talk to themselves, others who haven’t seen soap and water for a month. Fashion designers would glean a wealth of ideas from the clothing that is worn. Every imaginable combination is represented.
Once inside the “cafeteria” we move up in line until we are given our Styrofoam tray loaded with goodies. Today, the entre is shredded “mystery meat” lightly sautéed with a weak, somewhat tangy sauce. I take my tray, cup, and look for a vacant chair at one of the twenty plus large round tables. I spot one and sit down, taking out the plastic spoon out of its plastic wrap, place my napkin on my lap and scoop up some of the meat onto a slice of ‘vitamin enriched’ white bread. (I’ve been known to add a scoop of well-cooked canned vegetables when feeling careless). I fold my slice carefully around the meat because most times the bread rips open due to the ‘tangy sauce’. Voila- a homeless taco. I take a couple of small bites.
Halfway through my repast I have to slide my chair over so a very drunk woman wearing a multi-colored cape with a tattered wide brim cream colored hat, can sit down. I’m sure that her outfit was all the rage a few years back. Her wide black painted eyebrows and black bee-hive hair style brings back memories of the 1950s movies. She gracefully sets her tray down with enough force that some of the water in the vegetables and meat splash up and land on my jacket sleeve. I move over a little more, being careful not to crowd the older toothless gentleman who is shoveling his food down as if it were the first meal in a few days. It very well might be. I say nothing – he doesn’t look in the mood for a witty, urbane luncheon chit-chat. The woman captures my attention once again. As she reached for the water pitcher, she dragged her sleeve through her tray and dragged half her meal onto the table space between us. Unconscious of this, she poured herself a cup of water, most of it landing on the table. The table has a slight slant, and the stream of water is heading my way.
Another gentleman sits down at our round table which seats eight, if you do not mind sitting close to someone you don’t know. This guy reminds me of a portrait of Poncho Villa I once saw. The deeply etched wrinkles form a series of mini canyons set on a facescape of sun burnt brown, revealing tales of joys and heartache that span his many years.
As I finish my meal – having moved far enough away so that the water dripping off the table misses me, another man sits down next to the intoxicated lady. She asks where he has been and he replies in a rather loud, slurred voice, “with friends”.
The lady erupts with an angry tirade, stands up and sweeps their trays into his lap. He jumps up and she flees out of the building with him in close pursuit.
Well, time to go. ‘Yea, well, it could have been worse’ I think as I stand up and walk over and dump my tray and cup into an overfilled plastic trash can. I have an appointment with my case manager soon. I will go over to the office and sit in line until I am called.
As I write this, the New Year has just begun…so if one of your resolutions was to be more patient, I suggest the “Homeless Cure”. If nothing else, it will make you appreciate everything you have today.