It has been almost two years since I landed in Washington, D.C. for a new beginning after the casinos of Atlantic City, N.J.
I can remember the date and time I arrived. It was noon on the Fourth of July, 2008.
I started navigating my way around Washington. I flagged a police officer and told him that I was homeless. He directed me to the shelter on 2nd and D Streets NW, not far from Union Station. When I went there the administrators told me there were no beds, and directed me to Franklin Shelter.
There I met a couple of administrators who told me how to get help and where to find work. They said if I mopped the floors, I could stay there overnight. It was very hot and humid outside. The temperature that day was over 100 degrees, but inside Franklin, it was air-conditioned.
After a few days of sleeping at Franklin, I started craving alcohol to get over the emptiness of my life. I walked up and down 14th Street to find a job. It was very humiliating. A couple of years before, I had had a high paying job, a nice apartment and many friends. I wasted my life for the pursuit of material possessions, only to give it up to Mr. Trump and the casinos.
I used to laugh at the panhandling drunk in front of the liquor store. Like Nebuchadnezzar who was put out in the wilderness because of his pride, I ironically became a bum who stood at the liquor store begging up a few dollars to get drunk.
For almost two months I lied, got fired from jobs, and got banned from public places. I stunk so bad people would walk to the other side of the street just to avoid me. I had so much shame because alcohol and drugs were my master and I was held captive where I couldn’t escape.
I went to soup lines, slept on benches, and stayed in shelters where I was covered with bed bugs. I was in the sea without a life raft. I tried getting into a rehab center and kept not being admitted. I thought this was how I was going to end up.
Rebuilding
I would like to say I got out of the shelters on my own, but I would be telling a lie. I had a lot of people pulling for me and they still pull for me to this day. I heard about Miriam’s Kitchen, and met a couple of social workers who told me where to get help. Through good fortune I met a psychiatrist who evaluated me and told me I was bipolar. A Unity Health Care truck came once a week and I started to take medication, which stabilized me for a period of time.
I was an addict in the grips of hell. I gambled and paid for sex all wrapped up in shame. I still had two years to go for my Master’s and Ph.D. on Living in the Streets. I was unemployed, unemployable, looked like I was beaten by an Ugly Stick, and little kids called me a crack head. I couldn’t fix myself because I had no G.O.D. – good orderly direction. I was rebelling from the reality that my way had destroyed me and my ego was going to leave me lonely and destitute. I had no god or guidance; I knew everything but actually knew little.
It is often hard to distinguish between the hard knocks in life and those of opportunity. ~ Frederick Phillips
At my bottom, hopeless and clueless on how to get out of my situation, I saw people standing outside wearing a yellow vest, yelling “Street Sense!” I was so desperate and hungry I was willing to try anything.
Even though I had never sold a newspaper, I was hungry and I didn’t want to continue eating at soup lines, wearing dirty clothes, and having to carry all my belongings day and night from a shelter.
I wasn’t going to be labeled a loser, someone to be pitied. I wasn’t going to reinforce any stereotypes.
The reason I say this is so the customers who buy from me and also the vendors know that I struggled for almost two years. I was out selling in the rain, snow, and with the chicken pox, but I never wavered from my overall purpose.
Some people look down on people who sell newspapers, but I used it to develop human relations. I was timid when I first started selling; I almost quit because no one was buying, and they were passing me by.
For some reason I started selling by the Borders Bookstore. It seemed always busy and it would be a good location because it was a place where people read books. I wasn’t interested in negativity. I was sleeping on a box behind a dumpster at the West End library.
The fear of being laughed at makes cowards of us all. ~ Mignon McLaughlin
I was never afraid to take risks. I had nothing to lose. I didn’t want to hop up and down hollering. I found a suit that fit me. I made a couple signs, I wasn’t intimidating or aggressive. I never got discouraged even when I wasn’t selling papers.
I learned that like poker, you’ve got to play your rushes. I learned about patience, appearance and presence. There are some days when everyone’s happy and you have to keep going back to the office to buy more papers. I have had days when even the police and panhandlers bought papers.
Then there are days when you have to grind out sells, when people curse at you.
Regulars stop buying, panhandlers and drunks want to fight you. I once had a man in a wheelchair try to run me over, and another threw his prosthetic leg at me.
I never get discouraged, because I realize where I am today is a hell of a lot better than where I was.
I say thank you, Jesus, for rescuing me from sleeping in the park drunk, stinking, and with everyone passing me by like a leper.
And I say thank you for the many blessings I have received.
