New "Homeless In Seattle" Web site

In the last posting I announced creation of a Web site to assist the homeless in obtaining services, and my enrollment in a class to update my Web page authoring skills. My initial efforts led to my awareness that there are "content management systems" (CMS) which can be used to create a Web site without the complexities of writing Web page code to create and manage the site. So I have abandoned my class, and my original domain name, replacing it with homelessinseattle.net. An image of the mockup follows:

Initial mockup of part of the home page of the new Web site to serve the homeless

The disadvantage of using a CMS is that some functionality may be sacrificed. The advantage gained is that a simpler method may be used to create the site and it may become easier for colleagues to maintain the site without extensive training. Also, backups to the site are facilitated, so that if it crashes it will be easier to restore.

The program I've chosen to use to create and support homelessinseattle.net is Joomla, a popular program for building and maintaining Web sites with a great number of support resources to draw on, as well as online training. The training, elegance of the program and available resources lends promise that this effort will be more sustainable.

More to come...

Ubuntu

Program Pause

It's April 18, and there has been a pause in the 100 Meals program.
Results so far: 30 of 100 meals have been distributed, and enough street intelligence has been gathered to persuade me that developing a Web site for Seattle's homeless, discussed in the March 17 post, is worthy of serious examination.

I have enrolled in Web 120, a Web-authoring class, at Seattle Central Community College to see whether it's possible to brush up on my skill set to create such a site, while discussions with others on the feasibility and desirability of following that route continue.

Domain created

I have created a domain, homelessinseattle2017.com. The "2017" was added when I discovered that my original idea for a name had already been locked up. Here is the initial placeholder image while I proceed:

Washington state allows senior citizens to enroll in college classes for $5 plus lab fees and books, but the hitch is that you need the instructor's permission, there has to be a vacancy, and you can't be officially enrolled until a week after the class starts. That delay has put me in catch-up mode, so this plan has significant obstacles. However I took the same class a few years ago, so if the technology has not changed dramatically, there's a great possibility that I will have the skill set to create a suitable Web site that can be useful to the homeless.

We'll find out.
Ubuntu,

Postscript:

Got stir crazy and decided to walk to Ivar's for exercise. Took along a brown bag just in case. Good thing, because I saw a young man asleep on his feet in a dry spot next to a window. Asked him several times if he was OK. He finally sleepily opened his eyes and looked at me. I asked him if he was exhausted, or on drugs. He said he did drugs, which wasn't quite what I asked him. He did respond to my offer of a meal. I gave him one of the meals I had prepared for the young couple in my alley a few days back. I had kept it in the fridge, and it was still OK.

I walked from there toward the waterfront, stopping to talk with a spare changer at where the freeway bridge meets 7th Avenue. I asked him whether he was going to be there for a while, and promised to bring him some fish and chips. He asked me what that was. That was strange... When I got to Ivar's I reached for my wallet and realized I hadn't brought it, so I hustled back up hill to apologize. He wasn't there when I returned.
Meals distributed so far: 31.

Soup and sandwich skips

There's a driveway that leads to the alley behind my condo, and the couple was sitting there in the shelter of a garage, with their dog. I walked by, greeted them, paused, and asked if they had lodging for the night. They didn't. They looked like they were pretty together, so maybe they weren't homeless in the conventional sense. Perhaps I acted too rashly. But I asked if they had a meal for the night, and they said no. So I asked if they would like a soup and sandwich, and they perked up and said yes. I told them to wait and that I would return.

At the condo I whipped together two ham and cheese sandwiches, garnished with mayo, mustard and a sweet red chili pepper spread. Placing each sandwich in two nested paper bags, I added to each package a fruit cup, two fig bars, a couple cheese balls and a Pink Lady apple. In a plastic Glad refrigerator container with snap lid I added a combination of Pacific organic roasted red pepper and tomato soup,  kalamata olives, chopped onions, carrots microwaved to tenderness, and Sweet Baby Ray's Barbecue Sauce, over which I had melted Tilamook chedder cheese slices. I found a large sack for the Glad container and threw in a couple of spoons, napkins and paper towells.  It took less than 10 minutes and I headed for the alley.

When I got there, they were gone without a trace.

No problemo. I returned to the condo, refrigerated the sack lunches for another day and ate the soup. It was delicious.
Ubuntu,

Bananaman

Today I became Bananaman. Yesterday I picked up a big flat of bananas at a food bank I support. They weren't going to last until food bank day -- Tuesday -- so I relieved the bank of the fruit that was doomed. Part of it got peeled and frozen for my fruit smoothies. I gave a few to a couple neighbors in the condo. Some are still in a kettle in my fridge, for safe keeping. And most of the rest ended up in a small shopping bag which I carried downtown today enroute to meet up with a friend.

At Madison and 12th, I offered some to three transients standing out of the weather in a doorway. All three declined.

I walked along Broadway, then headed downtown, passing a church with a low wall along the sideway, and I planted a few bananas there for someone to discover. When I reached the freeway I left some bananas besides some tents that appeared to be unoccupied, and turned left, walking along the boundary by the freeway where I spotted several tents. I deposited a few bananas at one and there was a disturbance in the tent, so I said I was leaving the bananas. The resident thanked me. I asked him if he would like some more, and he said yes. So I left about 10 ripe but not-too-ripe bananas, emptying my bag.

No meals, but good fruit for the folks on the street.
Ubuntu

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,