Shelter Stories

The Homeless.

Faceless denizens passing us on the city street, they don’t show up on the radar of most people until asking for spare change. A typical response is the dismissive wave, averting the eyes, and walking away while quickly adding, “Sorry, no change.”

I spend some 40 hours a week with the homeless population, working at a shelter. I can’t walk away. Nor do I want to. It is a slice of life that many have not tasted. When I sometimes think I’ve had my fill, I remember the funny, touching or bittersweet moments. Here are a few. (Names have been changed to protect confidentiality.)

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John L. is brought to the shelter by a social services van. He’s a frail man in a wheelchair and, without my even asking, tells me he’s been in a chair since he got that shrapnel in his hip during WWII. I give him a copy of the shelter rules but he can’t read them because his glasses were stolen. I begin reading the rules out loud to him but he stops me, saying, “What? I can’t hear you. The batteries in my hearing aid are dead.”

So I begin shouting the highlights. He catches most of what I say but still has some trouble because he hasn’t removed the dead hearing aid from his ear.

According to the paperwork I was given when he was dropped off, John needs a medical rest bed for a few days – but his medical condition isn’t listed. So I ask him what’s going on.

John states he has lung cancer. After we finish the paperwork, he asks where the smoking area is located. He still smokes and is thoughtful enough to inform me that he sometimes coughs up “green mucus” during his first smoke of the day, but adds that the doctors told him that is a “good sign.”

Of what exactly I don’t know, but don’t want to shout any more questions to find out.

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Three different local churches make regular stops at the shelter in the evening, busing the homeless off for a hot meal with a side order of Jesus Christ. Like clockwork, they return a few hours later and our clients disembark – well-fed, body and soul.

I once asked a client how people decided which church to attend. He answered, pointing to one bus in particular, “Most of us like that church because the services are short and the chicken is Kentucky-fried.”

Article Author: Pete Petrisko

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