Tag Archives: life

There is Always a Story

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It always amazes me that people are so intrigued by the work I do at the emergency shelter. I never really stop to think about what it is that I do – I just do it. When the job offer came, I didn’t stop and think about whether or not I would take the job, I just did. So I always feel a little uncomfortable when people express admiration for what I do: it has to be done, it is my job to do it, and I think I am good at it.

Sometimes people will ask me for advise on how to interact with the homeless or ask for stories about my job. Only once, today, have I been asked if I have met a specific person. To be clear, I cannot ever say (for legal/privacy reasons) if someone is or has been at the shelter unless they have signed a release of information for me to talk with that person/group. And so I did not confirm or deny the presence of an individual when asked today… but as my friend described her friend’s sister and what circumstance may have led to her being homeless, it brought home the fact that everyone I meet at the shelter has a back-story that I don’t always get to know. Everyone is someone’s father, mother, brother, sister, daughter, son. There are people who love them, care about them, search for them or who have given up on them. There is always a story. It can be hard to look past the mental illness or drug addictions sometimes and see that. It can be hard, in the moment, to realize that an individual may once have behaved or existed in a completely different way to how they do right now.

So to my friend with whom I shared this short conversation today, thank you for the reminder that each person has that other side to their life, that they have a bigger story.

Chinatown

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When I returned to Victoria in February 2007 after my first prolonged absence since I initially moved here in 2004, I lived in the growing area known as “The Railyards” in Vic West. At the time, there were only a couple of townhouse/condo buildings there. Now the area has exploded with popularity. There were a number of things I loved about living there; proximity to downtown, views overlooking the Gorge waterway, and being right on the Galloping Goose Regional Trail were just some of the perks. I often did my grocery, or vegetable anyway, shopping just over the bridge in Chinatown.

Then I came back from Offshore and moved out to the “suburbs”. Not quite as far out as I had lived during my undergrad and certainly a more manageable bicycle ride into town (20-25 min), but nevertheless, not downtown. And there I lived from October 2008 until December 2011. It was wonderful, and I thoroughly enjoyed some of the perks of that area.

However, now that I am downtown, I am basking in my downtown-ness. The other week, I walked the four short blocks to my friends house and we walked her dog around downtown, coffee in hand. Sunday morning – New Years Day – I rolled out of bed less than half an hour before church began and made it in the door before the opening hymn. My commute to work is less than 10 minutes on the bicycle. But the thing that I enjoyed most today was a quick stroll down to Chinatown to obtain a tea ball for my teapot and do some vegetable shopping at my favorite Chinatown market.

It was doing that thing right on the edge of actually raining. That light sprinkle on already wet streets that gives a certain glow to the city. Add to the rain that twilight time of night when the lights are already glowing as well as Christmas lights still up all over the city, and you have a lovely evening of walking around and looking at glowing, reflecting lights twinkling all around. I began taking pictures just before entering the market, and by the time I left, not fifteen minutes later, the sun was well and truly down and darkness had descended on Chinatown. However the lights lit up the area like beacons in the darkness.

A Modern Christmas?

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What do kicking someone out of their halfway house-type accommodation, calling emergency mental health services and then having someone forcibly removed from the premises by police, and finding a dead body have in common? Apparently they are all in a weeks work when you work at the largest emergency shelter in town.

But that isn’t what I came here to write about. I had wanted to write a story of happiness, of Christmas spirit and Christmas joy at work in the emergency shelters.

We are all familiar with the story of two young people travelling a long distance, one preggo, only to find there is no where for them to stay when they get to their destination. I don’t know if I’ve ever stopped to think about whether or not they had money for a place even if there was one to be found, but like it or not, they were homeless.

How might that story translate to 2011?

It is Christmas Eve and this young family with three children under six finds themselves unable to sleep in their car as they have been for the last while: it is raining and the back window is broken. Not only that but they have no food. Alone and strangers in town, they make their way to the emergency shelter.

Sorry, we can’t take children. We are a 19+ shelter only.

But what about families? Where are families supposed to go?

We’ll call the Ministry and see what they suggest … They are closed until Tuesday, there is nothing we can do … We’ll check with the Housing workers at the Community Centre that administers our family units … Also on holidays … Well, we just happen to have one of our family units vacant at the moment. It isn’t large, in fact there is only 1 bedroom for the five of you, but it is warm and dry and you can leave your small car in the parking lot …

And so some staff members went grocery shopping and then shopping to get Christmas gifts for three youngsters who’s parents were afraid to tell them it was Christmas Eve for fear of disappointing them with another year of nothing.

While it isn’t much, it is five more people out of the cold with a dry roof over their heads and a stable floor below their feet. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Roadtrip With Reason

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I have high intentions of getting back onto the Friday Photo train, however that will have to wait until I can find the uploading device for my camera. I’m pretty certain which box it is in.

I was emailed this link by the manager of shelters at work. While I don’t post things about my work, after my facebook link earlier this week to a ten minute interview with “homeless poets” (from the writing workshop at my workplace), this one fits right in. In it, a young person volunteering her way across the country stopped for a while at my shelter and spent time volunteering with us. She writes about her experience with us.

Things-a-Changin’

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And then I dropped off of the face of the planet for two weeks. That might have had something to do with working 60 hours at one job (all overnight shifts) and 21 hours at the other in the space of eight days. I don’t really want to do that math, especially when you figure in all of the extra-curriculars that I had in there as well. And then lets not talk about the 16 hours I slept one afternoon/evening/night, sleeping through the alarm that was supposed to wake me in time to go to opening night of the world premier for an opera.

In more exciting news, last week was also one of events that have felt a long time coming. Within the space of 3 days, I interviewed and was offered a full time (temporary – maternity leave) position at the place where I have been working casual. It is something of a social work position working with individuals in transitional housing and an emergency shelter. I start next week with a three day conference in Vancouver. It is daytime hours only…!

Possibly more exciting things coming up in the next few weeks.

Remember Remember

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Today is the end of the second long day of meetings here in Toronto for the PWRDF and Youth Council. It has been a good day, surrounded by good people, doing good work.

It has also been a weekend of serendipitous connections with people across this country. I had been asked to rework a piece I wrote for the justgeneration.ca website (and also posted here) as a part of the public engagement team piece. Then, while I was en route to Toronto on Thursday, I was reading through all of the documents in preparation for the meetings and I recognized the name of one of the nominees for honorary membership to PWRDF. That recognition brought forth a flood of memories and caused me to rework what I had intended to say.

Instead of a strict public engagement talk, a talk about how promotional placemats introduced me to the Primate’s Fund, I ended up talking about “placemats and a passionate person.” Because more than the placemats, there was a key member of the church I grew up in who, with her husband, pushed social justice and and international relief and development like very few people I know. Apparently she is still doing it today (centre back of the table as I remember her in 1995) at 90+ years of age and has now been honoured with an honorary memorship to PWRDF.

The flood of memories continued to think about these wonderful relationships that I and my family have been blessed to have through the church community and the sadness of how many of them are no longer.

Yes, today is year eight. And so again I say, I love you Mum. I remember. I miss you.

Another Goal Reached

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One of my goals for each year is to read the equivalent of a book every week = 52 books per year. This week, I am happy to say that I have reached that goal and it is all more books from here on in! There are a lot of different books on that list and I’m not too picky about what is a book (though I haven’t been reading picture books this year): there are graphic novels, 900 page historical accounts of particular events, novels, and text books. All that counts is that I read it cover to cover. Now that I’ve reached my goal, that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop reading! On the contrary, in the 2 months left in this year, I should be able to hit 60…!

Homelessness Action Week

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Today’s Friday Photo is brought to you by Homelessness Action Week.

This is the first year that I can actually say with confidence that I am on a first-name basis with many of the homeless in our city. I had that brought home twice last week. On one occasion, I was sitting in the atrium of the Public Library and two of our clients at the shelter walked by. I knew both of their names and have had interactions with both of them. One of them, I knew something of her story and we’ve talked on a slightly deeper than surface level about the joys and pains of family. On the other occasion, I stopped to get a coffee at the 7-11 (pretty much the only place serving coffee that is open after 10pm on a Friday night) when a young fellow on a bench caught my eye and said hello. My attention had been grabbed by one of his companions, a girl who didn’t look like she could be more than 16 or 17 with a sign saying she was pregnant and needed money. I didn’t know the girl, but I knew him. I knew his name and where he was staying. We’ve talked a few times and he seems like a fun kid who has had his innocence taken away by living on the street and in a homeless shelter.

I don’t know if it is possible to classify a “most tragic” case of homelessness, but the one that always gets me is the working poor. I see so many people who have no mental illness and no addiction issues but, for whatever reason, cannot get together enough money to hold down a place to live. It really sucks to see them on the street or in the shelter. These are the people who are participating members of society and yet they do not get enough back to be able to have a place to live.