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19 DEC 03: HELPING HERBERT, PART 2

Our efforts to help the homeless New Jersey man named Herbert ended before dawn Thursday - but of course, it wasn't simple. Even seemingly simple-minded beggars can complicate things, by being quiet and forgetful.

12:00 m: Herbert has been sleeping on my futon on the living room floor since Wednesday evening. Now I go to bed -- but I
can't close the bedroom door, because the only heat source in the apartment is in the living room. So I quietly roll my standup vacuum cleaner into the doorway. If Herbert tries to come for my wallet in the dark, he'll give himself away.

5:50 a.m.: I can't sleep, so I decide to get out of bed and start the day. The lack of sleep in part is due to a chilly night (61
degrees F. in the apartment at wake-up time), and in part due to wonder about what might happen. I heard a pop of some sort around 5:00 - and wondered if Herbert was taking lightbulbs to sell at bus stations.

6:00 a.m.: Herbert knocks at my bedroom door as I finish a morning prayer. "Do you have any jogging pants?" He wants a change of clothing for the bus ride -- and apparently has not lined up any job interviews along the way.

I rotate four pairs of jogging slacks -- which in a way is strange to write, because I never go "jogging" in any of them. I wear them on days when the temperature should climb high enough to run, then take them off for the running shorts underneath to exercise. Trouble is, Herbert hasn't asked for running shorts as well....

The pair of running shorts I'd be most likely to give Herbert is a Bulldog-red pair with "GEORGIA" running down the side. They were given to me by a former roommate 14 years ago - and they'd be perfect for police to find, if Herbert became desperate.

Trouble is, I wore those Georgia jogging slacks in the last week, and haven't washed them yet. Besides, they have no pockets - and Herbert's experience with his wallet has shown this man needs every pocket he can get.

Of the three remaining pairs of jogging slacks, Herbert selects the grayish-white ones. "I'm going to throw these things away," he then says as he puts the pants he wore Wednesday in a little plastic bag. I strive in vain to talk him out of it - but the word "laundry" doesn't seem to get through.

6:05 a.m.: I stumble across the futon-filled living room, and find a can of diet cola on the floor. That explains the popping
noise. Herbert reached into my refrigerator for it - but to his credit, he never touched the two bottles of wine inside.

"Are you ready?" Herbert asks.

"Whenever you are," I answer. How strange is this? He wants to hustle out the door as fast as I want him to.

6:10 a.m.: We drive to the empty house Herbert called home for nine nights. It's across Third Avenue from Fourth Street Baptist Church. He tells me he's stashed a couple of plastic bags with belongings there. Is THIS what guest preachers have to go through, during revival weeks?

6:15 a.m.: We walk into the Greyhound bus station on Veterans Parkway. As we approach the ticket counter, Herbert
greets a man he apparently knows. They talk about a couple of things, including TSYS. I somehow doubt Herbert applied for work there - unless he tried to wash cars in the parking lot.

I ask Herbert where he met that other man. "Some time back," is all he'll say. For all I know, they may have been kicked out of a shelter together.

The bus for Camden, New Jersey will leave at 7:30 a.m. With a two-and-a-half-hour layover in Atlanta and another one in Philadelphia, he should reach Camden sometime Friday morning. Given the smell of the underwear he's still wearing, he'll probably have plenty of privacy on the trip.

("What can brown do for you?" In this man's case, I fear it gets him ostracized....)

The bus ride for this near-stranger costs me $133. A trip to New Jersey is only 33 dollars cheaper than the ticket I bought to send a man to Northern California last spring [16 Apr] - and it's a shorter trip in terms of mileage. I'd suggest you fill your gas tanks quickly, before prices jump back up.

As I turn to leave, Herbert follows me outside. "I want to smoke a cigarette," he says. Herbert told me Wednesday evening he does NOT do drugs -- and he said this as he tried to bum a cigarette getting into my car. I'm not sure where he got THIS one, but it appears he actually knows a little about savings.

I give Herbert a booklet about the church I attend, to help him understand why I tried to assist him, and offer a last apology for Wednesday's wild goose chase. But as I try to leave, he's not finished yet. "I'm gonna want something to eat.... Can I have two dollars to get something to eat in Atlanta?"

"I would have given you breakfast, had you asked for it!" But then again, it might not have thrilled Herbert - because no one makes chicken-flavored cereal.

6:30 a.m.: Returning to my apartment with no more Herbert, I decide to sketch out an outline of this blog entry before
going back to bed. But I discover one of my two combs is gone from the bathroom. Well, he knows what he needs - as the container of dental floss still is there.

7:45 a.m.: As I enjoy a much sounder sleep, I dream of reaching down below my car's steering wheel - and finding my green pair of jogging slacks stuffed underneath, blocking a heating vent. Truly my Pastor is right, when he says sleep time is when your thoughts get processed.

12:45 p.m.: The bus is long gone, but I have unfinished business. I return to the Salvation Army, to inform the staff the Task Force for the Homeless office moved December 1. The woman at the desk (different from Wednesday) didn't know, and her office resource book doesn't have the change. They must have been too busy serving dinners over Thanksgiving weekend to notice the moving trucks.

I give a brief summary of my experience with Herbert to the older woman at the office desk. "Well, you tried to help...." she says, "and you reap what you sow."

"I just hope I don't reap the whirlwind." At least at the Salvation Army, they get Bible humor.

12:55 p.m.: I roll up the hill to the Task Force for the Homeless office, to ask about their strange office hours. It IS open Thursdays from 9:00 a.m.-5:00 p.m. - but a sign on the window by the door says they're out until 2:00 p.m. Maybe this
"task force" has too many tasks on its hands.

2:45 p.m.: I call the Metropolitan Task Force for the Homeless, to ask some questions about what I found the day before. A woman tells me the shelters around Columbus WERE notified of their move to Second Avenue. It would help, of course, if their sign wasn't leaning half-hidden against the wall of their building.

Why is the Task Force office closed on Wednesdays? The woman says it's been "meeting day" there for three or four years - because they have a grand total of three staff members, and one of them currently is on leave. With a staff that small, you'd think they could meet anytime they pleased.

The Task Force woman also clarifies some of the rules about getting help for the homeless. Her office provides METRA bus I-D passes for people on Tuesdays and Thursdays, IF they have a letter from a shelter explaining their need. So you really CAN'T go there first for a picture I-D, before entering the Salvation Army! Perhaps Nathan's Feed and Seed needs to add a new department....

(Several people recommended I get the picture I-D for Herbert at the driver's license office - which is at the northeast edge of town, on Macon Road. Whoever decided to put the office out there must not want people to stop riding METRA buses.)

What about that "eight-dollar legend" spread by Columbus Police? The Task Force woman says that's actually half-right. The Salvation Army will keep people for FREE three nights per month. After that, the eight-dollar rule applies -- and at a maximum $232 a month, you probably could get a Booker T. Washington apartment for that price.

5:15 p.m.: It's warm enough for a late-afternoon run - and I take a course in the opposite direction from Golden Park. No
"Groundhog Day" movies for me, please....

So what conclusions and lessons have I learned from having Herbert in my life for more than 14 hours?

1. If you're travelling to Columbus, keep your wallet with you - tightly, at all costs. If you lose it here, you might never get home again.

2. Some shelters which claim to offer "mercy" to needy people seem to give them a set of legalistic rules instead. But let's face it, the "House of Justice" doesn't sound very appealing.

3. If someone approaches your car asking for help, please don't pull out your gun unless the homeless person shows his first.

4. Columbus Police need to be re-taught in the rules for shelters. This may occur right after Sheriff's Deputies review the rules for "shoot-don't shoot."

5. Columbus Police headquarters needs to start accepting credit cards, since exact change is required for criminal background checks after 5:00 p.m. This way, they can do an instant check for identity theft at the same time.

6. The Task Force for the Homeless needs more money, for staff and expanded hours. Now who wants to open a discount clothing store for it?

7. Can at least one of the new restaurants on Broadway remind people of how things used to be - and install a corner photo booth?

BLOG-BLAH-BLAH: Are the other lessons or suggestions Columbus can learn from Herbert's plight? Write us with
your ideas.

COMING THIS WEEKEND: We'll catch up on news stories we've missed the last few days, present the LaughLine rerun we promised about another encounter with a beggar a couple of years ago, and check e-mail about our moral dilemma....

If you quote from this in public somewhere, please be polite enough to let me know.

© 2003 Richard Burkard, All Rights Reserved.