by Debra CroweWhen I was in college, a group of friends convinced me to go camping. I agreed, as much as anything, so they would stop asking. I’m not the camping type. I don’t like dirt. I don’t like bugs. I don’t like summer without air conditioning. And I don’t like starting the day without my morning shower. They were so sure that, once I tried it, I’d come to appreciate the great outdoors. I didn’t think so, but I did figure that, once I’d tried it, they would see that it wasn’t for me and they would leave me alone. So I went camping.
Saturday night, it rained. Sunday morning, what had the night before been six people squeezed sardine-like into one tent was a mad tangle of arms, legs and other people’s blankets. The closest bathroom was enough distant that, unless we were desperate, even the girls looked for a suitable dense stand of bushes. It was quite an experience; one that, in the many years since, I’ve never felt the desire to revisit. I prefer the comfort of my sofa and my bed; the coziness of my kitchen; and the freshness of my tiled bathroom. And I am so very lucky to have the choice.
For the 1322 homeless in Saint Louis, living on the street, or in a park, or beneath a bridge offers little to no comfort. Their beds consist of a cardboard box and whatever blanket they may have been able to acquire. Food comes from neighborhood churches or shelters. Showers are a little harder to come by. The cold and wet of winter and the suffocating heat and humidity of Midwest summers are realities they have no choice but to endure.
For most of us, the plight of the homeless is beyond our true understanding. It’s like so many other things that, not having experienced it first-hand, we can’t comprehend. On Saturday, November 8, I got just a little taste of it.
Walking Home was an event sponsored by, and for the benefit of,
Centenary CARES, an outreach ministry of Centenary United Methodist Church. Located at 1610 Olive Street, CARES is a daily drop-in center for individuals and families who are homeless and hungry. The first in what is planned to be an annual event, the purpose of the walk was to raise awareness of the issue of homelessness and to increase understanding of what it really means to be without a home—without clothing appropriate for the season—without money for medical care—without food.
On the morning of the walk, I stood in front of my hall closet trying to decide which pair of gloves to wear. On Saturday’s walk, I met a couple who were sharing one pair of gloves. During the current economic crisis in our country, there are many who have curtailed their spending by dining out less frequently or cutting back on vacations. On the walk, I met those who depend on the kindness of others for food and have no jobs from which to take a vacation. Many of us have complained that “I have nothing to wear!” when what we really mean is that we’d like something new. For members of St. Louis’ homeless population, their wardrobe consists of the clothes they’re wearing at the time.
The walk commenced at Centenary UMC, covered several city blocks, and ended back at the church. The participants were a mix of those who support the efforts of CARES and those who benefit from its services. I happened to fall into step beside a man named Lamonte. Lamonte was pleasant and friendly, and we ended up talking our way through the streets of downtown. I learned that he was relatively new to his situation, four months homeless. A veteran, Lamonte has worked mainly in warehouses, shipping and receiving. While grateful for the services offered by CARES and other programs, he wishes desperately for work and combs through all available information looking for a job. When I asked if he had family, he told me that he does have relatives living in the area, and that they help when they can, but that their own circumstances are such that they have very little extra that can be shared. He recently learned that one of his brothers is also living on the street. Lamonte shared willingly with me, hoping that it might help those who are unaware of situations like his to better understand; to realize that there are people living on the street who would desperately like to change their situation, if only they could. If only they could get a job. If only someone would offer them an opportunity to make a change.
When we returned to the church at the end of the walk, I sat at a table in the dining room where, since opening their doors in November, 2005, CARES has served over 213,000 meals to over 177,000 people. There I met Lamonte’s partner, Bobbie. Bobbie has a unique work history; experienced in auto repair and cooking! Like Lamonte, she is looking hard for a job. Currently, she’s registered with a temp agency and is hoping that the upcoming holiday season will bring greater opportunity in the culinary field. When we spoke, however, she had been called for only one job in the previous two weeks. I asked Bobbie what she would like people to know about being homeless. “Respect,” she answered. “I’d like people to know that, just because I don’t have a home right now, that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve the respect they’d give anyone else.” She then told me that, immediately following one job interview, she remembered a question she’d forgotten to ask. When she reentered the office she had just left, she saw her job application being torn up. “If they weren’t going to even consider me, why did they interview me? It’s insulting—and it’s very bad for self-esteem.”
I’m sure that my one afternoon’s foray into the world of the homeless living in St. Louis doesn’t give me a real taste of what it’s like to be a member of that community. Unless a person has lived it, I don’t see how it’s possible to really know how it feels to be without a home. When I decided to participate in the walk, I didn’t have any expectations. As someone who is blessed in many ways, I just felt that I should join the event; should, as the literature promoting it stated: Walk in their shoes. Share their story. Change our world. What I found, talking to Lamonte and Bobbie, were a couple who are both valiantly dealing with their current circumstances and desperately trying to change them; who gratefully accept the help offered them while hoping for the opportunity to help themselves; who hope that sharing their story with others will help people to understand that, though currently out of work, they’re working hard to reclaim their independence.
The mission statement of Centenary CARES reads: “Centenary CARES Outreach provides sanctuary for homeless and at-risk persons in St. Louis. Meals and support services for basic human needs are offered by a staff intent on eradicating homelessness by guiding guests on a path to self-sufficiency.” If you would like more information on the program, please contact Lu Oros at 314-238-4056
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