Jeremy still had his plane ticket and flew out to see his family the next day. He returned a week later - totally despondent.

He had stayed with his family for only a few days before they had enough of his questionable behavior. His father gave him $50 and told him never to come back.

So he took a bus across several states and returned to our shelter.

Early the next morning, Jeremy was found dead in his shelter bed - an apparent overdose of prescription painkillers. I don't think it was officially ruled a suicide... but it should have been.

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There are a couple of months out of the year that I especially enjoy at the shelter. These are the times of year when one traveling carnival has finished its season and there's a lag before the next one comes through town. The shelter gets an influx of carnies and most of them have quite the stories to tell. I especially enjoy the old-timers, because they'll share carny secrets from the old days before the industry was more regulated. I've learned many a carny trick by listening but I've been sworn to secrecy.

I don't know why I get such a kick out of these folks. Maybe it's the kid in me still dreaming about running off to join the carnival. Or maybe I like hearing about a good con that separates the rubes from their money. I can't rightly say.

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Two things that make working at a homeless shelter worth it:

1. The too rare occasion when a client comes up to you and says "Thanks for trying to help me."

2. When a former client returns after a long absence, but he's not looking for shelter again.

He's just come by, driving in his own car, to tell you about the house he's going to make a down payment on. He tells you about the job he's had for what seems like forever now. He introduces you to the woman he's about to marry. He wants to share his hopes and dreams for the future, because he didn't have much in the way of hopes and dreams when you knew him before.

Maybe you once told him, "There's always hope." Maybe he didn't believe you at the time. Maybe he wondered if you believed it yourself, so decided to bring you some proof.

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(Bonus article: A first-person account of a performance art "social experiment" I did on homelessness in Dec. 2003.)