Uncategorized – Homeless Oregon Writer

Twenty. Hatred Of The Homeless.

Speculating as to why some people get so angry at the very sight of the homeless. I think the anger might be covering up fear. The few times I’ve felt it stirring, it was fear. Specifically of aggressive panhandlers. People who don’t respect the word ‘no’ really bother me, panhandling or not. But since becomingContinue reading “Twenty. Hatred Of The Homeless.”

Nineteen. I Choose To Remain Human.

Got to see my son today, the one who was hit by the SUV. Thank God he’s recovering nicely. Thank God he’s recovering at all. I can’t bear to think of what could have been. While I was there, my daughter came in. She cracked some jokes as if nothing had happened, and I crackedContinue reading “Nineteen. I Choose To Remain Human.”

Eighteen. Little Old Grannies Shouldn’t Be Homeless.

(From my journal) Today at Set Free Ministries I met two homeless grandmothers. The first was a woman in her late sixties, whom we’ll call Terri. Adorable smile, like a little Kewpie doll, not a tooth in her head. Friendly and vivacious, a real ray of sunshine. The kind of person you’d expect to seeContinue reading “Eighteen. Little Old Grannies Shouldn’t Be Homeless.”

Seventeen. She Doesn’t Fit The Profile.

It turns out there are many homeless people, and formerly homeless people, who don’t fit ‘the profile’. Today I met a young social worker, who for purposes of this blog we’ll call Debbie. Debbie is the first woman I’ve ever heard say that when she first came off the streets, she missed being homeless. ItContinue reading “Seventeen. She Doesn’t Fit The Profile.”

Sixteen. Why I Had To Leave The Shelter.

(As usual, from an earlier paper journal.) Big blowup at the shelter tonight – and boy, was it a blowup. Earlier they said, and the written rules stated, that we couldn’t bring any personal bedding in unless we let them heat-treat it, due to bed bugs. But one change of clothing was fine. Tonight someContinue reading “Sixteen. Why I Had To Leave The Shelter.”

Fifteen. It Wears On You After A While.

There’s a small 1970s bus that, when it’s running, the staff at the shelter use to transport the women to dinner. It’s been affectionately nicknamed the Partridge Family Bus. Some of the women, however, choose to walk the several blocks to dinner. Tonight I found out why. As soon as we took off, two womenContinue reading “Fifteen. It Wears On You After A While.”

Fourteen. The Homeless Retired Truck Driver.

For purposes of this blog, we’ll call her Edie Clark. She obviously has some kind of mental illness. Many of us have some kind of mental illness. She is the retired truck driver I met on the sidewalk in front of the library a few days ago. She uses a walker, like me. She toldContinue reading “Fourteen. The Homeless Retired Truck Driver.”

Thirteen. This Really Is All I’ve Got.

Some of my feelings are creeping back, and I wish they wouldn’t. I can’t believe this is really happening! I just can’t believe it! It’s been like a nightmare, and this is the part where I should be waking up. But I can’t wake up, because this is no dream. This is real. I didContinue reading “Thirteen. This Really Is All I’ve Got.”

Twelve. This Will Break My Heart, When My Heart Comes Back.

(From my paper journal.) October….25th ? I think ? Friday. I do know it’s Friday. Sitting on my walker in line out here in the parking lot at Set Free Ministries. Waiting to sign for a food box, and go to the bathroom. Bundled up in layers under my coat, plus a blanket around me.Continue reading “Twelve. This Will Break My Heart, When My Heart Comes Back.”

Eleven. This Is How People Turn Into Monsters.

(Again, from my earlier paper journal.) Well, the gig is up. I think I spent the most part of a week, maybe even a whole week, crashing in the waiting room of the ICU ward where my husband died. It disturbs me how I can become that emotionally shut down, that I could go backContinue reading “Eleven. This Is How People Turn Into Monsters.”