Trying breakfast; discussing a Web page.

Today I thought we would turn over a new leaf and try breakfast. In the past I've walked out often in the dead of night to bring meals at the end of day. But in the last couple of weeks, while opening up an account at a new bank, I noticed  that morning finds young people sleeping on the street on Broadway north of John Street. It was in this neighborhood that I met Gigi (see prior post). A few days later, a pair of men were side-by-side in their sleeping bags just off Broadway. Near the entrance to the QFC, one young man was asleep at 10 am. with a blanket wrapped around himself and a strip of cardboard to soften the sidewalk. He must have been tired to sleep like that.

Today, however, there were fewer on the street. It had rained during the night, and the lucky ones had found shelter. One who was not so lucky was shivering in front of Dick's Hamburgers on Broadway.

The Costco breakfast

I had prepared three lunches, which would fit in my backpack. Each consisted of a ham and cheese sandwich of Dave's Sprouted Whole Grain Bread, two Stone Ground Whole Wheat fig bar packets, an apple, and a 4 oz. Kirkland peach fruit cup,  and two napkins. The food all came from a Costco run. The package is lighter than other brown-bags, which previously had two sandwiches. But it's easier to pack and at least is a start for the day. I included a spoon or fork for the peach cup.

I had a doctor's appointment at Group Health on 15th, so afterward I walked straight down John to Broadway and hung a right.

The first person I spoke with was a gentleman with a thermos mug in his hand and a tall backpack. He was making the best of his homelessness and was heading inside Starbucks for a meal. He was aware of others on the street who were hungry, and demurred to them.

The next man had spent the night under an awning with his Pitt Bull. His belongings were scattered around him. His sleeping bag was damp. In the mess around him was dog food for his pet and a crushed beer can. There was also an old Army backpack that had so many straps on it he wasn't sure quite how to manage it.

I mentioned to him that I had become knowledgeable of how inexpensive disposable raingear could be and asked whether that might be something he could use. He said yes. I asked him how he was able to shower. He had a friend for that. He had used the Urban Rest Stop, but while he was showering, some of his possessions were stolen, he said.

He hadn't had breakfast yet;  the first brown bag went to him.

Gigi, again

I ran into Gigi again and stopped to talk with her. She had no interest in disposable rain gear because she was wearing a rain coat, she said. While we chatted a passerby reached past me to silently hand her some folding money.

Chris

A little farther on I saw a familiar face. It belonged to the young Asian man I had found reaching into a garbage receptical in my last posting. He remembered the cash gift, and we talked a bit more. He was from Tacoma. He said he was looking for work, and from the looks of him he might actually have a chance. When I offered him the breakfast bag he asked whether I was a Christian. I was raised a Christian, I said. The guy had some good ideas. Maybe I'll see Chris again.

John

I had one more meal and I kind of knew where I could find the next person -- in front of Dick's Hamburgers. There was a young woman seated there in her usual perch with a sign asking for money, and another man all hunkered down in the pyramid shape the homeless assume when they are just trying to hold in the heat. He had no sign; he didn't ask. He just sat hunkered down and I asked him if he were hungry.

His name was John. Someone had stolen his sleeping bag.  He was damp and cold, and grateful -- many times. I told him about a restaurant nearby where he could spend the night drinking coffee and staying warm. He didn't know that was possible and said he'd remember the name, but  John was new enough to Capitol Hill that he didn't know where the landmarks were, so I wrote down the name and address on a slip of paper.

Afterward I walked by the Lost Lake Cafe to check it out. It's a pretty democratic place, with a mixture of the garrulous and the quiet, and several people with backpacks who looked like they might be homeless. Before 9 a.m. they have a happy hour breakfast menu that almost anyone can afford. I had a delicious breakfast of corned beef hash, taking the leftovers in a doggy bag to a man sleeping in a doorway around the corner with his dog.

A manly meal of corned beef hash at the Lost Lake Cafe on 10th Avenue, Capitol Hill.

Recology

While I was walking Broadway there were two men with yellow vests with the word, "Recology" on the back. They were sweeping up and picking up litter. One explained that they worked for a garbage company and had specific parts of the city where detritus had been left behind by the homeless. There were other places where he performed the work -- in Chinatown and by the stadium, he said. He had driven through Capitol Hill for years but never was aware of the degree of homelessness there before.

In the evening, I hiked downtown to Christ Our Hope Catholic Church, to discuss with a parishioner the possibility of creating a Web page that would serve as a one-stop portal to homeless services. The church makes an effort to help the homeless and took an interest in my querie about developing such a site. It's not clear what the outcome will be, because it appears that other organizations may be preparing to address the need for helping the homeless obtain support more easily, so this notion may be eclipsed by others with the same intent. That subject will be revisited in future blogs.
Meals distributed so far: 30.

Ubuntu,

Talking with Gigi

Dick's Drive-In, a Capitol Hill landmark, thrives at night.
Some of the hungry are the homeless.

I call her "Gigi" because that's the sound her initials make when you say them. On two mornings I nodded to her on the same street corner in the north end of the Broadway shopping neighborhood on Capitol Hill. She's enough of a regular that, when I stopped to talk with her,  she greeted people by name as they passed. Sometimes people take her to a restaurant to eat, she said.

Gigi is in her 50s. She's tall, thin and conversational. She lives at a Catholic church downtown. She's not Catholic -- she was found sleeping in the street by a representative of the church, and now she has a place to stay nights. She can wash up there, and there's a small area where she can cook the food she picks up from food banks in the area. If she needs a bathroom, several businesses in the area, including prepared food outlets, will accomodate her. And there's always the public library, as well as the Sani-Can that sits behind Dick's restaurant on Capitol Hill.

The Sani-Can behind Dick's Drive-In on Broadway on Capitol Hill.

That Sani-Can at Dick's may be the closest thing Seattle has to the Parisian sanisette, described in the previous posting to this blog. Not only does there seem to be a shortage of public accommodations along common pathways in Seattle -- there's also a shortage of drinking fountains. One prominent one on Broadway was dirty and non-functional.

Gigi takes the bus uphill to stand vigil on the corner, holding a small cardboard sign asking for help. As I asked her about her life, she joked and asked whether I was a detective. I'm guessing not many people are as inquisitive. I explained that I wanted to understand what was happening, and making sure that what I was doing was what they needed. She shared that the police take an interest in homeless people as well. They have an outreach program that includes bringing hand warmers, gloves, water and tissues to the homeless on cold nights. I didn't know the cops did that.

I asked Gigi to critique the lunches I've been bringing to the homeless: sandwiches, cookies, cheese balls and an apple. An apple doesn't work for her, she explained. Her false teeth gave her trouble when she bit into an apple. She likes peanut butter sandwiches, and can handle meat sandwiches by tearing the meat into chewable bites. (Mental note: start providing the option of bananas over apples.)

I didn't have a brown bag lunch for Gigi this morning, and what I did is sometimes inadvisable--I handed her a $5 bill, close to the monetary equivalent a meal. Then I headed for home. Along the way there were other homeless -- a young man hung over and sleeping in a bus stall; another young man still asleep on cardboard on the sidewalk; a third, fishing for food in a sidewalk trash bin. I figure anyone who is eating trash out of a disposal is hungry enough to get $5.
Meals distributed so far (or the equivalent): 27.
Ubuntu,

Taking a leak

What happens when a homeless person has to urinate or defecate? This question presented itself to me one night when I was ascending Madison Street after delivering sack lunches to the homeless. I was in bad need of a urinal, and all the stores were closed. Finally I headed down a dark alley in search of a bush.

But what does a homeless person do in broad daylight after they've had a meal or something to drink, and they are needing a commode?

There is an answer to this. It used to be the pissoir, a public urinal introduced in France in 1830 on public boulevards, just in time to be used as barricades in the French revolution. Despite the inauspicous introduction, pissoirs continued to be used in Paris right up until the late 20th Century, when an improved accommodation, the sanisette, was introduced to serve both natural needs. Wikipedia describes the sanisette as a "self-contained, self-cleaning, unisex, public toilet." Paris pays for them.

Actually, there already are several public restrooms and drinking fountains in Seattle, which I was able to locate on Google map, via a search for public restrooms in Seattle. However, it seems to me that a city of a half million swimming in wealth could do more -- and not just for street people. Seattle is a destination city, and the tourists, hikers and walkers might need to take a leak -- or more --once in a while without having to depend on what sometimes has been referred to as "shithouse luck."
Ubuntu,

Direct correlation: Homelessness v housing costs

Today no meals were distributed. There was a 42nd Legislative District Town Hall, where we could hear from Senator Jamie Pedersen; Speaker of the House "Frank Chopp; and freshman Rep. Nicole Macri. The program began at 1 p.m. at Seattle First Baptist Church, 1111 Harvard Avenue.

Ms. Macri shared some noteworthy observation about a direct correlation between the cost of housing and homelessness: When the stock market collapsed, homeless figures went down along with the cost of housing. When the market bounced back and home prices rose, so did homelessness.

Ubuntu

The young homeless couple

It's the first time I've approached a homeless woman on the street at night. Heather was bedding down in a doorway, with the sleeping bags swaddled and the extra blankets stuffed into a black garbage bag. She was waiting for her boyfriend to return; when he did, I recognized him as the person I passed moments earlier on Pine Street whose pants appeared to be falling off him. That wasn't the case; they were just so low that they appeared to be below his buttocks. It's the only time I've seen a homeless person who didn't try to keep his pants at the standard level.

Heather is small in stature and appears to find safety in having a boyfriend to spend the night with her in the doorways -- and this particular doorway was deep enough to afford good protection from the elements. While we chatted, another couple joined them, spoke briefly and then headed off for wherever they would stay for the night. They were all street people, from different origins, who found comfort and safety through association.

From there I walked to the ferry terminal, giving a sack lunch to a man who was somewhat indifferent, but accepting. I think he was amused by the gesture. He was slouched in a folding chair next to a large conglomeration of plastic bags stuffed with what must have been his worldly possessions, I believe he indicated he had food.  I asked him how he moved around with his possessions, which would have filled five grocery carts easily. He muttered so quietly I couldn't her him. It wasn't much of a conversation.

About 9:30 p.m., the fourth recipient was a barely visible  in the shelter of doorway near on Madison near the I-5 overpass.  Interstate 5 and Madison. I couldn't tell whether that pyramidal shaped pile in the shadow was a person or just rubbish left there. I could hardly hear his responses as I spoke with him.

Meals distributed so far: 25.
Ubuntu,

Tony's Story

8 p.m. last night.
Tony was sitting on the cold north steps beside the QFC at Pike and Broadway, eating  barbecue pork slices from a styrofoam box. Beside him there was a stroller-like device with his gear. Even though he had a meal, he was willing to accept a sack lunch, and we sat on the cold steps next to him. I say "we" because this time Centennian came bobbing along, attached to my backpack.

Tony is unemployed because he is disabled. He's had a couple of rough bouts with body injuries. His odyssey as he describes it: In 2006 he had a back problem that resulted in surgery, and when he was closed up, a latex glove got left inside him. A few years later his blood counts were really low and he wasn't feeling well, and an MRI disclosed something in his body that didn't belong there. That problem was compounded with a neck injury when he was working in an auto shop and struck his head while carrying a heavy load. His story is an unimaginable tale of beaurocratic screwups and CYAs, but thats not the story we're going to tell here, because it gets too complicated.

What matters is that Tony can only walk a couple blocks with his backpack, so he uses the roller to get around.

Life at night

Tony has had tents to sleep in at night, and they've gotten stolen in the past. He currently is relying on Tent City, which he said is located in a parking area near the University of Washington. Students have brought food to the encampment, and he has earned time to stay there by performing patrol duty three hours a night. But he got thrown out for at least a day because he overstepped his prerogatives by trying to resolve one of the resident's electrical problems by adjusting a resource he was supposed to keep his hands off. I didn't write down the specific details because I wanted this to be a conversation, not an interrogation. We are still learning what it takes to talk with homeless people without making them feel more uncomfortable than they already are.

The lunch had two sandwiches of Kirland Black Forest ham slices with mayo and yellow mustard; a couople Babybel cheese balls;  a few oatmeal raisen cookies; a large apple, and two napkins. Cost was probably under $6.

The steps were uncomfortable. I was wearing several layers on my top, but only safari trousers, and my butt was freezing. Tony laughed as he dipped another slice of pork into the mustard. He was wearing layers on his lower half.

Hygiene

Tony was on the street for a month and beginning to reek before he discovered, through an Internet search at the library, that he could shower at Urban Rest Stop, located on 9th between Virginia and Stewart. You can also do your laundry there. No charge.

There's also no charge for riding the bus. He had a day pass from the  Tent City. He couldn't stay there last night due to violating the rules about electrical hookups, but he plans to be back there.

The police are generally understanding for the homeless. What happens if a police officer sees you urinating on the street? we asked. They generally look the other way, he replied.

Information for the homeless

The interview left me with a question: Why did Tony have to do an Internet search to find out about Urban Rest Stop? Is there a Web site that has all the information on resources in Seattle for the homeless? If not, what would it take to create a single, comprehensive source?

The others

We delivered two other sack meals last night. We didn't have to walk far.  Just a little ways past Molly Moon's there was someone bundled up in a doorway with an apple that someone had set beside him. I asked him if he wanted a meal. He didn't get up--that would have exposed him to the cold. But he did roll his head around to look and say yes. That was before I found Tony.

After Tony I had another sack lunch to give away and I headed down Pike. Across the street in the shadow of a doorway I saw some low shapes. It turned out to be two young men bundled for the night next to each other. I asked if someone wanted a lunch. I couldn't hear them well, but I believe the first one deferred to his friend, a nice looking young man with long wavy locks of black hair and smiling eyes. He sat up, smiled and we shook hands.

It was cold. We headed back to our place to stay for the night, which was warm, well lit and soft.
Meals distributed so far: 21.
Ubuntu

The Ferry Terminal: Jeff

Friday, February 17, 2017
I and my grade school chum, Darlene, were exiting the ferry from Bainbridge Island when we saw him standing at the end of the footbridge that reached the entrance to the ferry terminal--a bewhiskered, slender man with a cap and jacket, and holding a cardboard sign. It didn't take long to see that he was articulate, pleasant, and bright. He had worked in construction and high tech, but he's 60 years old now, and no-one wants to hire him, he explained.

Darlene and I had just had lunch with another childhood friend at the Madison Diner on Bainbridge. I had the open meat loaf sandwich,  and I ordered the tuna sandwich to go ($11.70 including the tip), because I knew there would be a minor gauntlet of homeless folk between the terminal and First Avenue. The waitress included extra napkins and plastic utensils.

Jeff was the first one we ran into. Jeff is well prepared for a night on the street, with two sleeping bags and two wool blankets to keep warm. And there's a possibility on his horizon-- the possibility of work as a homeless outreach person.

There's one thing Jeff is passionate about, partly because of his building background -- the issue of vacant buildings that could be turned into living quarters for the homeless. He thinks effort should be directed to making use of the vacant buildings. We talked for a while and I scribbled some notes -- ideas about resources and contacts serving the homeless. Something to follow up on.

Then Darlene and I headed off for Bottega Italiana, a gelato shop near Pike Place market. She handed Jeff some cash in parting. Near the gelato shop she gave a Real Change vendor $5 for the $2 publication. At Bottega Italiana we enjoyed excellent peach and lemon gelato.
Meals distributed so far: 18.
Ubuntu,