A Night at the Shelter - President Obama's First Inauguration
Here is an account of a night I spent at a homeless shelter on the night of President Obama's first inauguration. I thought it was interesting to see the contrast between the celebration in D.C. and some people looking to get out of the cold for the night.
A Night at the Shelter
Barack Obama is the new President of the United States today. Millions of people are thrilled about this amazing event, others are relieved to see an end to the current administration and for many it is a combination of the two. And of course there is a segment of the population who believe that Obama will lead us to ruin. One blogger was so anxious for this change that he wrote that he actually saw the minute hand on his watch move backwards as he waited for the swearing in. I think he was kidding.
I am very pleased with Obama’s election, as I voted for him in the general election, but it is hard for me to get excited with everything else that is going on in this country. Banks are collapsing, markets are crashing and more and more people are out of work. You would never guess all this by watching all the nicely dressed people on TV celebrating at the inauguration balls. I fear we are in such a deep hole that no president can pull us out but judging by people’s reaction to President Obama, if anyone can, he can.
It’s time to turn off the TV and go to the Episcopal Church in my town’s center. Four churches, in this rural northwest town in Connecticut, rotate and offer a place for the homeless to sleep in the winter months. I am a volunteer who has been sleeping in the shelter one night a month for the past three years. There is always trepidation before a night on my sleeping bag on a thin mat on the church floor. This may also be dampening my excitement about this historic event.
I arrive at about 9:30 PM and there are six “guests”, four men and two women, who will spend the night here. Three coordinators and an overnight volunteer named Carolyn are here also. I usually work the shelter on Tuesdays, as does Carolyn, and we have done several overnights together over the past few years. She is a very nice lady who cares deeply about those less fortunate.
The doors open at 9:00 and it is supposed to be lights out at 10:00 PM. At about 9:40 Paul comes in to use the facilities. He is well known around here but only sleeps in the churches on the coldest nights. Tonight the temperature will drop into the high single digits but there is little wind and Paul chooses to sleep outside. I express surprise at this and someone mentions that he wears lots of layers.
At 9:50 Rocky enters the shelter. He is a strong looking young man in his twenties with vacant eyes. He asks a coordinator if he can take a shower. The coordinator says yes but to hurry since lights should be out by 10:00 and the coordinators leave then. At 10:05 Rocky comes out of the shower and the three coordinators leave. The lights go out.
Because the classroom is crowded by the time I arrive, I set up my sleeping bag at the far end of the hallway just outside. Rocky wants to sleep behind me in this hallway. If he sleeps there he will have to walk past me to go to the bathroom and since the hallway is narrow and I don’t want to get stepped on, I ask him to sleep at the other end of the hallway or in the classroom. He chooses the other end of the hallway. I am relieved to have the space to myself.
I get settled in my sleeping bag but Rocky is busy rustling bags and he puts on a hat with a bright light on it. The bathroom is between Rocky and I. He walks toward the bathroom and the light shines in my eyes. He runs water in the bathroom for about five minutes. I start to get perturbed.
Just then a new guest, Patrick, loudly asks where the volunteer is. Patrick wears “colonial time” clothes; knickers with white knee socks and black shoes. He is in his mid fifties with long blondish hair and he is quite effeminate. I respond, “I’m out in the hall, is there a problem?” “No problem”, he replies and he walks out to my area. “Here’s a chocolate, you know, like in the nice hotels. Put it on your pillow.” “Thank you”, I say and I can’t help but smile.
It’s now about 10:20 and I feel better. Rocky is back in his area rustling around. I just need to be more patient, never one of my strengths, I think to myself. Rocky, Patrick and the others don’t have a lot going for them. Why should I be upset that Rocky is keeping me awake? Stop being so selfish.
It is now 10:35. I shouldn’t have a clock so close to my sleeping bag. Rocky is still going at it. He walks back to the bathroom and the light on his hat shines in my eyes. That’s it. “Rocky, lights out at ten. It’s after 10:30. C’mon” I say trying not to sound angry. “I’ve got to get ready for work tomorrow.” “You’re not the only one who works, you know” he replies. He sounds upset and I don’t respond. The light on his hat goes out and things quiet down. Sleep follows about an hour later.
“It is 3:30, time to wake up” blares over and over in a robotic voice. Rob has to get up for work at 3:30 but can’t he turn off the alarm by now? Shortly after he does and goes on his way. I fall back to sleep.
Someone lets the bathroom door slam and I wake up. I look at the alarm clock by my sleeping bag, it is one of those old style clocks with hour and minute hands, and it appears to be 5:20 AM. Lights on at 5:30 so I better start waking up. At 5:32 the alarm does not go off. I better check the digital readout on my cell phone to verify the time. Oops. It’s really 4:32. I’m relieved not to have turned the lights on an hour early and happy to have another hour of sleep.
The alarm goes off at 5:30. There are always mixed feelings at this time. On one hand, you feel good to have gotten through the night and anxious to get home. On the other hand you feel bad that these people have to go out in the cold. It really is a brutal existence this time of year in the northeast for the homeless.
I walk by Rocky and say good morning. He stares at me angrily. This pisses me off to no end. Here I am sleeping on the floor so he can get out of the cold and he’s got an attitude with me. Oh well, what can you do.
I am in the classroom talking to Carolyn when John quietly asks me for bus fare to the closest city. John graduated from a local high school one year before me and we have a lot in common. We talked a few times over the past couple of months and we discovered that one of my good friends grew up in John’s neighborhood. I recently saw that friend who told me that John had mental problems and that his father used to get drunk and beat the shit out of him.
The last time I worked the shelter was the night before New Years Eve and John had asked for bus fare then also. I gave him a twenty. He objected, “No this is too much. I don’t need this.” “Happy new year, go buy some of the others coffee” I replied. Now he was asking again with other guests around. It didn’t feel right to give him money with the others watching and I felt like a mark. “I can’t help you” I said. He quietly asked again but then backed off. Then he went out for a smoke.
I carried some stuff to my car and passed John, while he was outside having a smoke. I gave him a ten, the smallest bill in my wallet. He said he’d get it back to me over the weekend but I told him not to worry about it.
The rest of the morning was uneventful and I checked the facility after everyone left and found no problems. I filled in the log, “7 guests, quiet night”, said goodbye to Carolyn and went home.
Once home, sorry this is a little gross, I sat on the can and read Sports Illustrated. Mitch Album wrote an article on Detroit, the miserable sports teams and the more miserable lives that so many are living there. Quotes, from a preacher’s letter he got before he wrote a word, are incredibly sad. I read this and gently cried.
Album ends his story on an optimistic tone about the Detroit citizens fighting back and overcoming the devastating blows they have received. He almost sounded like the new president. Let’s hope, for all of our sakes, that Mr. Album and President Obama are right.
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