^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
18 DEC 03: HELPING HERBERT
As I write this, I'm ashamed for the city of Columbus - not to mention frustrated, and nearly outraged. My efforts to help a homeless man Wednesday were loaded with roadblocks. And no, this man did NOT have a small cloud hovering over his head.
3:45 p.m.: As I take an afternoon walk around South Commons, a man named Herbert is sitting on the black Olympic monument near Golden Park. "It sure is cold," he says to me.
"Yup. That's why I'm walking, and not in my shorts running." I tried running in my shorts one windy day recently when it was in the 40's F. -- and it was OK, as long as the wind was at your back.
"Say," Herbert asks as I walk by him, "do you know where the Salvation Army is?" Uh-oh. The only people who ask questions like that are beggars. Not even a single guy like me would think of going there for free food.
"It's at Second Avenue, about 18th Street," I reply. Then Herbert begins a rapid-fire story about what he's doing sitting on that monument - so fast that I ask him to rewind his tape and start over.
"I came down here for my father's funeral," Herbert of Camden, New Jersey explains. Pointing to a Spectrum store across 4th Street, he continues: "I was over there this morning asking to wash someone's car to get some money. He pulled a gun on me and told me to get away from the car." I should have asked if that man was an off-duty Sheriff's Deputy.
"Another woman I asked threw a cup of ice in my face." Yes, sir - Herbert is finding out about Columbus's good old Southern hospitality.
Herbert adds a third person turned him down for a money-making car wash, then "spat on me when my back was turned." He's in a Bible Belt town - and getting belted all over the place.
Herbert finally explains he's trying to get into the Salvation Army shelter, out of the cold. I offer to drive him there, and he accepts - but first says: "You need eight dollars to get in there."
"I've asked them about that, and it's not true." I asked during another encounter with a beggar a couple of years ago - a man who walked away from the Salvation Army building unhappy, after we arrived there. [BLOGGER'S NOTE: We'll share the rest of that strange story in a "LaughLine Rerun" this weekend....]
"A police officer told me you need eight dollars to get in," Herbert contends. This proves you don't need the Internet to start an "urban legend."
"We'll find out," I reply, and we walk around Golden Park and under the Oglethorpe Bridge to reach my car. I walk well ahead, because Herbert says he has bad feet. It's a wonder at this time of year they're not frostbitten.
4:00 p.m.: After getting my wallet with ten dollars in it, Herbert and I drive to the Salvation Army office. No, I was NOT lying to the beggar. It's called "reward food" after a good deed.
Herbert only has the clothes on his back. He tells me he received a warm winter coat earlier in the day from Fourth Street Baptist Church. If he became a baptized member, he might even get free day care - separate from the children, I'd presume.
Herbert admits he needs a good shower, and he smells like it. He's spent the last nine nights in an empty house in the Historic District. You mean there's still one which has NOT become a law office?
"I turned 38 last Thursday," Herbert says as we drive - only his speech isn't very succinct.
"You saw your Grandma last Thursday?" That's how it sounded to me.
"You have trouble hearing, don't you?" No, I heard you. You simply need a clearer mouth.
4:10 p.m.: We arrive at the Salvation Army, walk around to the "emergency shelter" in back - and find it doesn't open until 4:30. Maybe in Florida, there would be an early bird special.
Not sure what else to do, we walk around to the Salvation Army office facing Second Avenue. Does Herbert simply sign in? No, the woman at the front desk gives us a page of rules. "You need a picture I-D, and a sheet from the Columbus Police saying you passed a criminal background check." It sounds like you have to be a certified homeless person.
Problem #1: Herbert has no photo identification on him. "I misplaced it," he admits - apparently losing his wallet on the bus ride from Camden to Columbus. Why he put that in his checked luggage, I may never know.
The Salvation Army worker pulls out one of the "homeless hot list" cards that you may have seen around town, with instructions on where to go for aid in the Columbus area. She tells us to get a picture I-D at the Task Force for the Homeless office, at 1000 9th Street. Someone without a car would have an all-day marathon walking to all these places.
As we head down Veterans Parkway, Herbert asks, "Can you buy me something to eat?" I remind him after the two-step requirement is met, the Salvation Army will provide him something to eat. Never let your stomach sidetrack you from your job.
"By the way," I ask Herbert, "does that sheet say anything about paying eight dollars to get in?" Sure enough, it does NOT. Apparently the eight dollars are "sweat equity" from meeting all the other requirements.
4:20 p.m.: Herbert and I drive to 1000 9th Street, a door well hidden on the other side of Tenth Avenue. It's almost as if the Task Force doesn't want Columbus to know there are homeless people in it - and let's face it, you don't even see them that often in Valley Rescue Mission commercials.
Problem #2: a sign on the window says the Task Force for the Homeless moved its office December 1. It's now at 2221 Second Avenue - only a few blocks up the hill from the Salvation Army office. Didn't the woman at the Salvation Army realize that? Then again, does the United Way realize that yet?
4:30 p.m.: We retrace our tracks by car, and go back to Second Avenue. The Task Force for the Homeless office is a small one, on the corner of 23rd Street. I can understand the change of location - now close to all three main Columbus shelters, in the heart of "down-and-out-town."
Problem #3: The sign outside the Task Force for the Homeless office says it's CLOSED on Wednesday! This leaves me flabbergasted. Is the staff out playing golf with wealthy doctors and bankers, trying to get donations?
I'd told the woman at the Salvation Army office about my past experience calling the Task Force for the Homeless, and how that phone seldom is answered. Now I understand why -- and I see why compared with other cities, this task force doesn't have much force.
(C'mon, Task Force staff - it's a cold afternoon in mid-December, and you're not open to help homeless people? The time for you to take vacation days is in July....)
Back in the car, I apologize to Herbert on behalf of the city of Columbus for the wild goose chase this has become. Maybe this is where some Uptown Columbus bars got the idea for an annual scavenger hunt.
So where would YOU go for a photo I-D card at a time like this? I vaguely recall Broadway has pawn shops - so maybe they do that sort of thing. The H.L. Green store used to do it, but it's now become "Larry's Giant Subs." Come to think of it, Herbert might have preferred stopping there first.
4:35 p.m.: Somewhat in desperation, I stop at a loan office on Broadway and ask where Herbert might be able to get a
photo I-D in the neighborhood. Problem #4: the office staff is stumped - and probably stunned that I'd walk in asking such a question. They'd rather I asked for help in buying a plasma TV for a Christmas gift.
Herbert is ready to give up and sleep one more night in the empty house -- but I talk him out of it. His need has turned into my personal quest. Besides, I realize there's an alternative to the Salvation Army - and my apartment is too messy right now for visitors.
4:40 p.m.: I try thinking outside the box, and drive to the Public Safety Center. Perhaps Herbert can get the criminal
background check first, and the police staff can help us find a photo identification place. After all, the Salvation Army was wrong once already today....
I remind Herbert as we walk into the Public Safety Building there are other shelters in Columbus besides the Salvation Army. Does he HAVE to stay there? Herbert doesn't answer the question - and I presume he's finally been overwhelmed by how wonderfully compassionate this city is.
Problem #5: No, you need a picture identification to have a police criminal background check conducted. The woman at the police counter suggests as a last resort, Herbert can get that I-D from the Sheriff's office on the fourth floor of the Government Center. He can get in line behind the deputies, being screened by the F.B.I.
(By the way, a criminal background check by Columbus Police costs five dollars. So if a picture I-D costs three, maybe that officer was right after all.)
Back in the car, I explain to Herbert I understand why the Salvation Army has its rules for admitting people into its shelter. But is the agency consistent with this -- for instance, when it hands out doughnuts and coffee outside apartment fires?
4:45 p.m.: We park the car on Ninth Street near the Government Center. But after an hour of fruitless driving in and
around downtown, Herbert has had enough. "I'll be all right," he says -- which I cannot believe, given all that's just gone wrong for us.
I ask Herbert about the other Columbus shelters - and he finally reveals he's stayed at both of them, and got kicked out. He doesn't explain why, so I presume he might have preferred a different Bible translation than the House of Mercy uses.
After going to all this trouble, I'm not willing to give Herbert up to that cold, empty house. "You can stay with me tonight," I tell him - and Herbert quickly accepts. Even homeless people can reach the point where they CANNOT be choosy.
(If worse came to worst, I was prepared to buy Herbert a motel room for the night. I did that in Atlanta several years ago - when a woman walked up to me at a gas station claiming to be a pregnant "virgin Mary.")
As we drive to my home, Herbert asks about dinner. I mention several options in my pantry and freezer - and he chooses canned chili. It certainly beats the last 24 hours, when he had to settle for "just plain chilly.
4:55 p.m.: I let Herbert into my apartment, and get a washcloth and towel so he finally can take a shower. "Do you have a spare pair of underwear?" he asks. I stockpile socks and slacks I see on special -- but the only time I overload on undies is when I go on vacation.
While Herbert showers in my bathroom, I make a few phone calls. The journalist in me spots an amazing news story here - and my supervisor is stunned I'd let this beggar stay with me at all. It's so much safer and neater, after all, to drop a couple of food cans in a barrel.
I also get out my Yellow Pages, and look under "photography." A call to Camera One finds they're open until 6:00. Compared to other places I'd visited today, this counts as expanded holiday hours.
5:15 p.m.: Herbert is out of the shower, as a TV reporter calls back. I let my guest talk with her directly - and she asks him
tougher questions than I'd asked all afternoon. My afternoon walk followed a series of computer problems at home, and I was thinking the meeting with Herbert was like the TV show "Joan of Arcadia."
Herbert tells the TV reporter he was kicked out of one Columbus shelter for missing a curfew by a couple of minutes, and booted from another for breaking rules relating to medications. Some of these missions apparently go beyond giving people a helping hand -- they practice faith healing as well.
Herbert hangs up the phone, and says the reporter wants to talk with me tomorrow (Thursday) for an interview. Once again my blog breaks news....
5:20 p.m.: I tell Herbert Camera One is still open, if he wants to get that picture I-D matter settled this afternoon. He senses Problem #6 and asks, "You don't want me to stay, do you?" No, he CAN stay - but he can learn a lesson in effective time management.
"You can eat now and get the photo I-D tomorrow, or get the I-D now and eat after that."
"That'll work."
"WHAT will? I gave you two choices."
After some hemming and hawing, Herbert says we can go get the picture I-D now. The can of chili I'd opened while he showered will stay in a pan on the stove - and it seems too cold for the cockroaches to come out of hiding and devour it first.
Back in the car we go, to head up Wynnton Hill -- but as we get in, Herbert asks a passing man at the apartment complex if he can have a cigarette. I'm not sure which statement Herbert heard first: the stranger turning him down, or me saying it's a no-smoking car.
I ask Herbert out of curiosity if he has a home back in Camden, New Jersey - and he says he does. I offer to buy him a bus ticket in the morning back north. That's probably more than all the shelters would do combined.
But minutes later, I realize if I buy Herbert a bus ticket, the TV reporter won't get her interview the next day. "She missed out on the story," Herbert replies. I couldn't have put it better myself.
As we pass Wendy's and Los Amigos on Wynnton Road, Herbert says, "Those places are making me hungry." Considering Herbert's claim that he hasn't eaten since Tuesday morning, any burger wrapper might have done that.
5:30 p.m.: We park behind Camera One, walk in the back door (or is that the front?) - and we're assisted by this year's winner of the Ashley Nix look-alike contest.
"This man needs a photo identification card," I explain.
"OK, but it won't be ready until tomorrow." Problem #6. Did you know trouble can come in six-packs?
It would be the lunch hour Thursday before a picture I-D would be ready from Camera One. You'd think a shop like this would have heard of digital cameras by now -- or at least Polaroids.
Turning to Herbert, I give him a choice: "Do you want to do this now, and get the I-D card tomorrow -- or go back to New Jersey without a card?"
"That'll work."
"WHAT will? I gave you two choices."
Herbert seems stunned by this, so the Ashley Nix look-alike suggests he think about it for a minute. She must be a holiday "temp" employee -- because my guest decides to do without for the night, costing her a sale.
Back down Wynnton Hill we go, and Herbert wants to know "what's happening with the chili?"
"What's happening with it? I opened the can while you were in the shower. I haven't turned the stove on yet, so it's sitting on the stove right now."
"But what's happening with it?" Either HE'S the one with the hearing problem - or he must think the chili is made with Mexican jumping beans.
Herbert finally explains he's wondering what I'll serve with the chili. I wonder if he has anything in mind. "A sandwich," he says - and with no lunch meat in the refrigerator, all I can offer is peanut butter and jelly. When you're a beggar, simple pleasures become much easier to accept.
"Let me ask you a question...." Herbert continues.
"You ask so many questions. Maybe YOU should be a TV reporter."
"Have you ever heard of the Tip Top Café?" Of course I had. It's on Ninth Street, one block from the Public Safety Center. "Can you buy me a couple of pieces of crispy chicken?"
This time he's finally crossing my line. "I'm making you dinner. I don't know why that's not sufficient for you...."
"It's sufficient. I'm just hungry." How DID Jesus do this in the Bible for 40 days and 40 nights?
Chili and a sandwich aren't enough for Herbert -- but I remember I have a frozen chicken dinner in my freezer. This will do for him. "I'll eat it," he assures me. Perhaps I should be thankful he hasn't eaten the carpeting on the car floor by now.
5:50 p.m.: It doesn't take long to heat the chili and bring out the sandwich items. I lead a dinner prayer, giving God credit for working in "mysterious ways" during the day. Only as I write this do I wish He had worked in OTHER ways - like keeping task force offices open five days a week.
Herbert lives up to his promise, and the chili and sandwich go quickly. He twiddles his thumbs at the kitchen table, while waiting for the chicken dinner to heat in the oven. He's fascinated by the cute kitchen timer I picked up as a gift, during the days when Peachtree Mall had a Ward's store - especially when I tell him tonight it's a "30-minute cow."
6:40 p.m.: With dinner eaten and Herbert sitting in my recliner before the TV, he asks: "When can I lay down?" Once again Peter Jennings has bored a news viewer....
I pull out a foldable futon I was left by a former roommate in suburban Atlanta years ago - and with a spare blanket on top, Herbert rests his head for the night. I go ahead and listen to the rest of "ABC World News Tonight" for him. He'll never believe that woman is the daughter of Senator Strom Thurmond -- or after this afternoon, maybe he just might.
COMING FRIDAY: What will morning bring, in our helping Herbert? We'll let you know, and offer some
conclusions/vents about this unlikely adventure....
© 2003 Richard Burkard, All Rights Reserved.