OUR STORIES | Losing a home, finding help in St. Paul

By Sage Holben, Community Voices

June 13, 2014

“Time for breakfast, fellas,” is the typical 6:30 lights on/wake-up at Union Gospel Mission, home of Bethel Hotel and many services for men who are homeless.
Bethel Hotel at the Union Gospel Mission (UGM) has been Alan Grafing’s home for eight months. A friend recommended UGM when Alan lost his apartment. Like so many, the spiral quickly went from losing his job to losing his apartment. For $6 a night, he reserves a "paid bed" in a room with 33 other men. This is an alternative to a free bed, which dictates an "in-bed" curfew of 9:30 p.m., among other specific requirements, or a private room at a cost of roughly $180 to $200. For a weekly fee, a shelter resident can rent a locker. Some men use their cars to hold their possessions while others may carry their possessions with them throughout the day.

Life for Alan was once as normal as anyone’s: one of two brothers with two sisters, mother, and his father in the Navy. One sister is now in Colorado and the other in Wisconsin; his brother and parents have all died of cancer. Alan is an Army paratrooper vet and has been divorced for five years. He had been working in Mankato and caring for his ill mother. After his mother died, he moved to the Twin Cities so he wouldn’t have to commute to see his son. He found a job in the Twin Cities, but was let go after two months.
A year later he lost his apartment after trying to hang on while job-hunting, the futility eating through his 401K and unemployment. He went to court, attempting to keep his apartment. His apartment management stored his belongings as long as possible as Alan could not afford storage; since then the property manager has been kind enough to continue storing photos and other very personal items until Alan gets on his feet. The heartache of losing family heirlooms and keepsakes reflects in Alan’s face.
“Aid policies need to be in place so people are not forced into foreclosure or into losing an apartment [in harsh financial situations]," he said. "I applied for assistance to keep my apartment, but not in time. The court gave me a week to get the money needed, with the expectation that I knew people - friends or relatives- with money. A court-related call to the landlord could have helped; I was short of help by one week...just one week.
“My son (eight years old) worries about me. A child should not have to worry about a parent. We visit on the weekend, keep in touch. I had been calling every three days, lately every day. It’s God who did the work. God’s grace is what made it happen – so quickly. Two months ago God pushed me to the VA. I walked into my first appointment knowing something had to change. I was told by an intake worker that I hadn’t been homeless long enough – a year. He called two days later, after having made some calls…told me I’d have a voucher from the Metropolitan Council for an apartment. Getting connected to HUD-VASH was a God-send. One application did so much. The presence of God has kept me on a [positive] path.”
Alan summarizes his experience: “My son will always come first. With my own apartment again, he can have daddy cook for him. I’ve learned that rent will always be paid first. I want my child to be happy…Legos…I put the Legos together, he played with them – we both had fun…but the rent needs to be paid first; and I want to cook for my son. I have learned frugality in purchasing food, things for my son. I’ve learned the difference between needs and wants. If it wasn’t for my son, I would have had a different path and it scared me to think what could have been.”
Alan summarized his experience with Union Gospel Mission saying, “It’s a natural fit for me; I’m a spiritual person, and UGM has a lot of programs that can help.” If a person has a free bed rather than a paid room, a few of the programs UGM offers are required. Others are very helpful, but optional:

• Gateway: Helps men recently out of prison, including help finding transitional housing;
• Up and Out: Helps men earn their GED;
• Anger Management;
• Budgeting classes.

“A social worker, employed by UGM is present and available every day,” notes Alan, “as well as two or three interns and they are easy to access. A podiatry group offers foot care help monthly, for any foot related problems including foot massages. Health and dental care are offered on the premises, by East Side Clinic, Dr. Como, and dental students. They give the best of dental care. UGM helps men to get their lives back on track, with God in it.”
Alan, with other men from the Mission and Dorothy Day, enjoys the fellowship and computer access they find at Metropolitan State University and the co-existing Dayton’s Bluff branch of the Saint Paul Public Library. Other options for shelter residents, who have to be physically out of the shelter for most of the day, are the downtown Passport, which is for those 50 years plus; the Union Depot, which has Wi-Fi; riding the city bus to Minneapolis for the Central Library, the Veterans Administration, “and, unfortunately, downtown Saint Paul where drugs are easily available.”
Internet access and fellowship are very important – recreation often consists of watching movies on phones. UGM has no computers; people must have their own laptops and then sign a waiver in order to access the internet. Basketball and football are the usual TV fare in the common room at Bethel.
When asked how he sees people getting out of homelessness, Alan considered: “Start by recognizing ‘need’ versus ‘want.’" A person needs reliable transportation and a steady job. The city bus is the most common transportation for shelter residents. Alan, like some, has a car, though it needs work to be reliable. Housing and transportation are two critical elements in getting a job and stabilizing one’s life. Frafing noted that [homeless] people who have cars are working more than those who don’t.
Alan had promised his son that he would be out of shelter in eight months. He would have realized his priorities much sooner, he mused, if he had been in touch with the VA sooner. Knowing what resources are out there, knowing what organizations are available to help, are key. Once he connected to the VA things really moved along.
“Being homeless is life-altering, life-changing. Some people lose their sense of pride somewhere, or don’t care. Not all who are homeless are lazy. A couple of bad breaks and we’re forced out of our homes. Some of us are good workers.”
Note: Since this writing, Alan has found full-time employment and is looking forward to finding an apartment where he can cook for his son.

© 2014 Sage Holben (As printed in Twin Cities Daily Planet)

SPOKEN THOUGHTS

She spoke in a voice low and wispy, as if to take up no more space than her body already claimed.

‘When I speak, you come!  Immediately!’ so spoke the father.

Speak with clarity and get to the point.

If we don’t speak for the voiceless or the vulnerable, who will?

“I can’t speak for her”, and then he went ahead and did so.

She spoke words of wisdom

With the language of eyes and laughter, two need not speak the same oral language to enjoy each other’s company.

The dead speak their secrets as the family unearths the papers and collections left behind.

The silent, living victims are left in turmoil over the pleasant lies spoken of the dead.

The kids in my neighborhood, having a different awareness than I do about law, gangs, and relationships, often speak in code to me with their eyes and facial expressions: don’t do it; don’t say what you’re thinking; I’m hurting, please defend me.

Speak now, says the Holy Spirit...be bold...speak in faith.

Speak up, I can’t hear you. I speak up and you don’t listen.

Speak truth to power.

Words, music, art, nature, facial and body movements, our environment, rhythm...all speak to us. Are we listening? What do we hear?

sage holben 9/2012 (written for Allison McGhee's Brown Bag Readings

View From My Porch

Night’s Presence

1 am: a four-door car driving up the hill on Fourth, from Maria, across Bates and Maple; a full sized mattress, unfastened, on the roof of the car; a man sprawled, face down, across the top.

11:30 pm: a two-door red sports car stops midway on Bates between Fourth and Fifth. Four men exit, the youngest takes a basketball from the trunk and proceeds to circle in the street, bouncing the ball. The others fumble through the trunk, taking something small, unidentifiable to me, out and the four walk to 300 Bates, entering through the north side door. Lights are on, evident only when the door is open. After about fifteen minutes, another man, huge around the waist, walks from Third to the red car and drives it away, making a U-turn and heading toward Third.

Around 12:30, first week of July. A man, a woman and a child, about seven, walk south on Bates, up Fourth, the child pulling a luggage cart. The sound of the wheels convey a lonely, empty, nowhere feeling. A few minutes later, the man returns without the woman and child.

Almost anytime in the evening: a car pulls up on Bates. Headlights blink, wait a few seconds, blink again. A car drives up, driver to driver. hands go out, both cars drive away.

1 am: two men, loudly talking, riding bikes south on Bates. S____! says one man as he jumps off his bike. Broken chain? He drops the bike in the middle of the street and walks away.  From the window, I say, please, at least move it off the street. He obliges. The next day, several people checked it out for possibilities and left it before I pulled it over near the trash bin.

Slam! Around 11:30, the sound caught my attention. Curse words between a male and female. According to another neighbor who saw the incident, a man shoved a woman against the little library and her head hit the roof.

2 am: two women walking down the middle of the street; I could hear their conversation and their names used. Having turned the corner, one curses. Now knowing her name, I call gently from the upper window, “D___, please watch your language.” As if God had spoken, she looked around and answered, “Alright...Sorry!”

At two am, where would two women be going, walking with three very young children including a tiny baby?

After midnight, a neighbor discreetly (or so he thinks) places his scrapped carpeting into my trash bins.

A woman scurries like a rat into the drive, taking one of our recycling bins.

At 2:30 am, awakened by someone dragging scrap metal north on Bates.

Sleep, so often disturbed; wakeful times, so often perplexing.

sh 7/17/2012 (as published in Dayton's Bluff Forum)

United States Post Offices Services

I just read an article in Bloomberg Businessweek that the US Post Office, with its cutbacks in independent postal stations, is looking at small businesses, i.e. cafes, stores, to house USPS minimal service desks/postal boxes, etc. Of course, lockboxes are already situated in various mailing/package depots. The article states that it was only after the Civil War that independent buildings were created, as a result of a growing trust in government. Interesting.

mmm...I remember when I lived in Bloomingdale, Illinois in the 50s and 60s. Bloomingdale was a mere crossroads between Elgin and Chicago; our post office was located in the locally owned hardware store. I remember his face, but can't remember the name of the store owner. He or a woman handled the postal services.

I like the convenience this offers, especially in one of my favorite coffee shops; then I wonder about privacy issues with postal boxes....would a regular Postal employee deliver mail to the lockboxes?
Also, I remember, though I felt leery of walking into the dim hardware store filled with men gathered talking, there was a sense of community. A corner bar was the only gathering spot at that time, or on the steps of the grocery, enjoying a 10oz (8 oz?) Coke, frosty and cold, from the outside vending machine.

The article is: 'The Post Office's Back to the Future Rescue Plan' pp 38-40;Bloomberg Businessweek May 27, 2013.                                                                                                 

VIEW FROM MY PORCH

Car-less

“Your car frame rusted out and separated from the wheel”. The news was not good. I had taken my 1998 Metro LSI to Roy’s garage because something didn’t feel right with the passenger side front wheel. Too much rust, one too many potholes. Jim Goff had given me the car in 2008 and it’s been a trusty little thing, taking me to Chicago, Door County, Wisconsin, Negaunee, Michigan and Iowa to visit family and friends.

It’s carried neighborhood boys and bikes to bike shops and to pick up paint for bikes. Always loaded with at least three boxes of donated books, I’ve made runs to fill Little Free Libaries around Saint Paul. It’s transported some of the men I’ve met, who stay at Dorothy Day, to their doctors and has helped them move into their new apartments. It’s carried kids to events out of their neighborhood, carried bags of collected winter coats to Gospel Mission and reusables to the thrift stores.

It’s chased down stolen bikes; carried garden supplies, plants, bags and bins of mulch.

Linda Charpentier and I served soup from the little red Metro over the last couple years in the Dorothy Day Center parking lot. My car carried several of my political protest/peace rally signs - you never know when you’ll come across an opportunity to make your voice heard; and you want to be prepared!

I’ve often wondered what my life would be without a car. It’s one of those situations that I imagined intellectually, but experiencing it is completely different. Over time I suppose I would adapt. Never having had a new car, I’ve never taken for granted the priviliege of having a car readily available. I do admit to being car-dependent. I’ve had many little awakenings since being without a vehicle. The Red Cross called, but I couldn’t make my regular platelet donation because of transportation. At 9:30 one night, I couldn’t just run out to Rainbow for the missing recipe ingredient.

I’ve become more aware of Phoenix Market hours...and cost (a can of cat food at Target is 49 cents, at Rainbow it is 59 cents, and at Phoenix it is 99 cents. Little things do matter. If convenience of a nearby ‘corner market’ becomes a necessity, it’ll hurt my pocketbook in a big way and it also limits my fresh food/healthy food availability. Ali, I love that you’re in the neighborhood, but it would be like giving up my ‘brainiac books’ as someone once called my library, for pulp fiction, just because it’s all I could get!

I realized I could no longer keep my schedule - like being in Roseville and making it back in twenty minutes to a meeting in Dayton’s Bluff...let’s see, the bus leaves... I need to pick up super large pieces of cardboard to make templates for a community project, but I have to figure a way to get them home. I can’t run errands on my lunch hour or before work.. After work is more likely, but it’s not as if I can run to several places while someone else is driving and they have other things to do.

I now see outside of my intellectual sphere why payday stores do well, though I question their ethics. I had a difficult time getting to my credit union and then only after hours. ATM fees? the more convenient, the higher the fee. Fun stuff? I picked up my bag the other morning to treat myself to breakfast - oops, no car. I know, I know, I’ve just not yet made the transition that the bus is first on my mind.I recall from when my sons were young - how difficult it was to walk nine blocks between home and store with two grocery bags, a six year old who wanted to run a block ahead and a crying two year old who needed to be carried through the Wisconsin snow. Now I’m at an age where when my pride doesn’t like asking for help and I don’t want to be a drag on friends by asking for errand rides (my perception, not theirs).

Assumed rights become a hard-earned privilege when one doesn’t have ease in access and availability (think fresh food and carrying several days worth for two very hungry, growing boys; think money exchange/bill paying centers (not everyone has computer access or a stable bank account to pay online; getting to and from community resources and agency appointments. Think recreation with the kids in tow. Think a clinic appointment taking three hours instead of a lunch hour, because taking a bus is involved and then walking several blocks on the bad foot the doctor will look at, tell you to stay off - once you walk back to the bus stop and then walk home, of course. This is just over my first week. I’m hoping I’ll have a car again by the time this is printed. But I do promise, even if/after I get a car again, I’ll be a bigger voice for people who lack these conveniences that so many of us take for granted as a right.

sage 5/7/2013

Happy Birthday, BonBon!

Wednesday evening was much like any other at Bates and Fourth in Dayton's Bluff...that means anything can happen. Bonni and I were on the porch, talking about the upcoming Neighborhood Night Out on Tuesday. She brought out her face-painting pencils and twisty balloons for animals. As she was practicing, I was working on the banner several of us started the previous day. Cesar stopped by and we learned that he knew how to make balloon figures. Also, he had done face-painting.
Soon a little girl, who had stopped on Tuesday, came again...she was fundraising for new school instruments. Carrying her keyboard under her arm, she would play a song for 25 cents. She had learned quite a bit in a matter of 24 hours!!
Soon, Cesar and Bonni had company in two other kids, all making balloon swords, sheathes, hats, and animals. Lara then stopped by with two young friends - they had heard of our screeching slingshot monkeys. They stayed and worked on the banner. Bonni and I had thought we were pretty much done; obviously not, since it now has several little drawings, speckles, and signatures...truly a community project.
I love that the kids come and visit. Their smiles and shy humor really lighten the day. I'm trying to get the projector for a Tuesday movie, which we'll do in the parking area for the night out.  (From 2009 posting: Porch....)

Library Thing Early Reviewers Book Review: In the Body of the World by Eve Ensler

I just received this early reviewer book this afternoon, was home with a bad headache and read Ensler's book in a matter of a few hours. It cast light on my own family relations beyond all else this book does. Contrary to its subject matter, it is not a depressing book.

Relationships, communicating with one’s body, facing life and death, defining love in its many forms, giving to the earth and its people more than one takes away. This is, in summary, what Eve Ensler expresses in her book, ‘In the Body of the World’. Ensler talks about her experience, her relationship, with cancer and chemo with wry wit, and candor.

In exploring and courageously sharing her raw and life changing experience of surgeries, ports, chemo, and all their emotional and physical side effects, Ensler emboldens others to find their own way, but encourages us to be bold enough to feel, to love, to name, to cry, and to believe that others are there for us. Ensler carries us through with beautiful metaphors and honesty about the facing and fearing death. At one point, her mother, also ill, tells Eve that “I dreamed they are came to take our hearts. They didn’t want mine. They wanted yours the most”...The next morning they move my mother to the cardiac unit because her heart has now become the problem. It is where we do not live that the dying comes.”

sh 4/201