Man on the Corner

"See the lonely man there on the corner,
What he's waiting for, I don't know,
But he waits everyday now.
He's just waiting for something to show."
- Genesis, Man on the Corner, Phil Collins, songwriter

"The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home
If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won."
- Mumford & Sons, I Gave You All, Marcus Mumford, songwriter

He held a sign that read "Vietnam Vet needs a miracle." My kids saw him as we approached the turn to I 25 and yelled excitedly, "Mom, there's a signwaver! Stop, Mom, stop!" I checked my rearview mirror as I slowed, then checked to make sure the turn signal stayed on red. Window rolled down, I beckoned to the man, and held out the paper bag with socks, tuna fish and crackers, as well as a bottle of water. He hustled over to the car and said, "Thank you, ma'am. God bless." Then he surveyed the colorful drawings on the paper bag and chuckled, "I like the artwork, too."

After returning his "God bless" we moved ahead with the rest of the traffic, flowing smoothly on to whatever comfortable destination awaited that day. I was amazed at the delight of my children in giving out our "Just Care" bag, and full of my own pleasure and relief at being able to do something to help the people who wait on the freeway ramps and offramps. Before our church started preparing these Just Care bags for congregants to keep in their cars I had nothing to offer the people on the corner, and would just roll by in my hermetically sealed vehicle fielding questions from the kids as to why anyone would stand there all day. My good friend came up with the idea to coordinate the assembly and donation of these bags at our church, and it has revolutionized our approach to I 25, the freeway which runs fairly close to our house.

There is a light rail station at our exit from I25, and I remember how people complained and worried about the light rail because they feared the visitation of homeless folk from "the city" (Denver, in our case) to our restful and removed suburb. I don't know how the men on the corners get down here, they could be from our suburb for all I know, but in this economy their incidence has certainly increased. Their presence did make me feel uncomfortable when I had nothing to offer, but I feel prepared now, and being able to offer something, no matter how small, and interact with the toothless, dirty, and charming man on the corner has made him feel more like a neighbor and less like an intruder.

Call me naive, call me simplistic. I know I am not solving any big problems by handing out the bags, but I am solving two problems: his and mine. And we are teaching the children something valuable: that if we have a purpose bigger than our apathy we can triumph over small evils and injustices. We can turn invaders into neighbors, we can nurture our own compassion and understanding, and we can make someone's life just a little bit easier. We can show up - and that is not a small thing.

Homeless in Denver

“Pray for the dead and fight like hell for the living.” - Mary Harris Jones (called "Mother Jones", 1837–1930

Yesterday I went on a brief tour of the spots in downtown Denver where homeless citizens often congregate. We walked by street corners, parks and alleys where folks look for work or a spot to practice basic life skills, as well as the amazing Stout Street Clinic which offers medical services for the homeless. The Cornerstone day center and the Urban Peak offices for homeless youth – all these locations are within a short distance of each other, seeking to offer services and help folks where they exist.

Our leader was the brilliant and passionate Randle Loeb, former homeless citizen, current board member of countless organizations and founder of the People’s Leadership Council. Randle introduced our group to numerous facts and figures, recalled stories and presented us with persons working hard to help those who are unsafe due to their lack of housing. He reminded us that each person on the streets has his or her own story, that each is a citizen who can vote, who has loved ones, who is a member of our community. Shockingly, each year 30% of the people on the street have never been homeless before.

The spot that touched me most on our walk was a memorial garden and oak tree surrounded by an oval of stone stools. The plaque in front of the oak tree reads “This garden is dedicated to those we loved who died on the streets.” Randle shared with us that one of the greatest fears of those on the streets is that they will die and no one will know. No one will be able to tell their parents, spouses, siblings, even children, what happened to them. How can this be in the middle of our city? Their fears are based in the reality that life expectancy for those on the streets is at least 20 years less than the standard American life expectancy and that often no one seems to care. The garden and plaque gives people a place to mourn for their lost friends who have no grave, who had no memorial service. It helps us remember that these deaths occur in our midst.

There are many wonderful people in Denver working to alleviate homelessness. The Mayor’s office has done good things and Randle noted that they hope for 5,000 units of housing to be built (though he noted we may need more like 50,000 units). In economic tough times the budget for services for those on the margins is often cut, and indeed the Stout Street Clinic had to take their Health Outreach Program vehicle off the roads due to cuts in funding. As we all struggle through changing fortunes let’s remember those who pass these winter nights on the street. As Mother Jones said, let us pray for the dead and fight like hell for the living.