Posts Tagged ‘homeless’

Down Spread

May 4, 2017

Down Spread

All spread out—someone was by the curb. He lay with his head on a black bag.  There were no shoes on his feet, though sneakers and a grey jacket were nearby. People walked by him; some looked and shook their hands while others didn’t see him. Someone stopped by the Starbucks cup in front of the person and put a dollar bill. Another person covered her face with the hoodie. She stood against the restaurant wall by the man and cried. It shouldn’t happen. These things shouldn’t be happening, she said in a low voice.

 

 

The Signs

June 7, 2016

The Signs

Down the street they went. They were quick. A man pushed a woman in her wheelchair. Something made of cardboard hang from her neck. The passerby looked discreetly. I am homeless. Help. Give food. The passerby shook her head. Another person in dire need, she thought. Once in the subway, a young man began to talk. His voice was loud. I am sorry for the interruption, ladies and gentleman. I am homeless. Anything you give me, food, coins, clothing will be greatly appreciated. His sign was similar to one belonging to the woman in the wheelchair. The young man stood in front of the seated passengers until they were able to read the words on the cardboard.

20 Years

December 14, 2015

20 Years

The man’s voice was loud. He wore a shabby dark coat, dark pants and a light T shirt.
“20 years! I’ve been homeless 20 years! I could get in places where they wouldn’t let Obama in. I could go anywhere if I wanted to. I’m homeless. The cops should know me but they don’t. They see me but to them I’m not there. You know what it is? They just don’t want to see me.

The passengers waiting at the dirty J train stop looked at him, turned the other way. Some turned their backs. One or 2 gave a sigh of relief when the train finally arrived.

White Collar Crimes

November 21, 2015

White Collar Crimes

I have heard that white collar crimes could be harder to prosecute from now on. My question to whoever it is in government responsible for this possible law is: What are you thinking? Why do alleged white collar criminals matter more to you than the American people, the American borrower? Why is an executive so out of reach from the arm of the law? I lost my home, my beautiful condo in Atlanta, Ga. to foreclosure on November 1st. 2005, because of white collar crime. I was a victim of predatory lending and mortgage fraud. I will never forget how I felt while trying to save my home and myself from such a horrible fate. I tried everything, including refinancing and a letter to the then governor of GA. to no avail. The governor never responded to my letter. My credit score was 754, a very good credit score. One time, when the CBS show 60 Minutes had a story on foreclosures in the state of Ohio (I think it was Ohio) I cried for at least an hour and a half. My tears wouldn’t stop. The persons on the 60 Minutes segment who had lost their homes were me. We had gone through the same horrible experience. Since my foreclosure, I have been and I have felt totally homeless. I believe that my physical housing insecurity stems from my GA experience. Being evicted twice after this has not helped at all. Being secure and safe someplace, having a roof over my head to shower; sleep in a warm bed, make myself a cup of tea and take care of my cat—that is what I have wanted. Our representatives in Congress and the Senate have to stop being so nice to their friends in Wall Street. I have nothing against being rich. I think being rich and having money is great. But without us, the consumers, Wall Street and the banks would not exist. No customers, no business—it’s as simple as that. I yearn to have my condo back. I want to have my condo in Atlanta, GA. back. As far as I am concerned, it was taken from me unfairly. It’s the same as if somebody had stolen it from me.

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If You

October 21, 2015

If You

If you heard and listened to the individual stories of those left homeless. If you knew about the pain of being evicted, of not being able to pay the rent, of having nowhere to go with your kids and beloved animals, you’d understand that eviction and homelessness is not just about dollars and cents. For the tenant it can be—it is—a very emotional ordeal, with sleepless days and nights full of stress. It is Hell on Earth. Not having a lawyer to defend your rights in Housing Court is scary, even humiliating. The other person, the landlord, has someone, usually a shark-like attorney. A lawyer has to be there to fight for your interests because if the landlord has a lawyer, the tenant has to have one as well. It is only fair. Only by being in an evicted person’s shoes will someone understand what it feels like on a day to day basis. Only by living the agony will someone get to have some measure of compassion for the person who soon will have no home.

Down

April 30, 2015

Down

A young man sat in the wheelchair. The day was sunny and warm, early spring in the city. The young man didn’t seem to notice the weather. His chin rested on his chest and his eyes were closed. A cardboard sign hanging from his neck said:

I am Homeless. Need a miracle. Please help. People walked by him on their way to the subway.

The Touch

April 14, 2015

He sat on the asphalt, head down. The Beagle in front of him slept. The man touched her, once, twice, three and more times. Someone went by and read the letters written on the piece of cardboard: Homeless, trying to survive with my dog. Anything is appreciated. The someone shrugged his shoulders and walked on. The man kept looking and caressing his dog.

Soul of a Dead Dog

March 20, 2015

It doesn’t matter now. You should have adopted me. I would have been loyal to you. We would have taken long walks in the park and the streets of your city. Your family would have been my family. But the shelter wouldn’t wait for you to arrive for me so they stuck a needle in my leg. Now I am dead. I am gone and you and I never met. A person petted me on the head before I closed my eyes forever. If I had been able to talk, I would have said thank you. Thank you for your kindness. I am so sorry my death has made you cry.

The Wait

January 28, 2015

A long line. The men and a few women stood by the curb. It was 6 P.M. The man they called the sandwich or muffin man was late.He usually came at 5:30. There had been a snowstorm the previous day and the man lived upstate. Someone in the group said that  the man was snowed in. Still, the people waited. One or two walked across the street to the area with seats. After a while, some gave up and left. The sandwiches he handed out once a week were a Godsend and the blueberry/chocolate muffins sweetened what was often a bitter day. Another day, next week. Then, he’d come again.

The Woman and The Ice

January 4, 2013

The Woman and the Ice

A frigid night in Manhattan. 24 degrees but feeling colder. Bags were by her feet. The old woman held a thin blanket around her shoulders. People walked by on the way to the subway. One woman wearing a beautiful brown mink coat down to her ankles looked at the old woman and then looked away. The beggar’s wrinkled face told nothing. Her short white hair was wet. She took a towel from one of the bags and put it on her head