In the homeless world, everyone is different
This is a church in Lincoln Park. It's also been my home for the last year. Along with 34 other people. We're homeless.
While all of us are in the same place, our stories are different. You may think we're all the same. You'd be wrong.
That guy over there is an alcoholic. The woman next to him is a cocaine addict. Her friend Susan was abused by her partner. Alberto hasn't worked in over three years. He wants to and is out there looking for a job. Every single day. He just can't find someone to hire him. He can't find someone who is willing to take a chance.
Me? I've been sick for the last couple of years. A little neurological thing. I can't work anymore so I'm try to get disability. I'm told it takes a long time to get approved. Hell, it takes a long time to get denied. I've been trying for more than a year.
So I'm here. This shelter isn't so bad…for a homeless shelter. They feed you every day. Three times. Like real people. Go figure! On Mondays, they make these things called spinach balls. Everyone seems to love them… except me. I always give mine away. Hmmm…maybe I should sell them. Oh yeah…it's a homeless shelter. No one has money.
Did you know they have a computer room here? I KNOW…a shelter with computers hooked up to the internet. And get this…there's Wi-Fi. REALLY! If we could get cappuccinos, it'd be like living at Starbucks. Oh yeah…there's a few of those down the street. I mean it's Lincoln Park, people. Location! Location! Location!
Talking about location, we all grew up in different places. You all didn't think we all came from Cabrini Green, did you? There's a couple of us like that. Not as many as you think.
I'm from the north suburbs of Chicago. There are a few of us here from there. Evanston. Highland Park. Even Lake Forrest. One night some volunteers came to make us dinner. They were high school students from Northbrook. We were all telling them are stories about how we got here. I think they were amazed that we all grew up in the same area. It was surreal for all of us. It felt like an episode of Scared Straight.
Yanno….things could be worse. Much worse. I mean we have Wi-Fi, people. One night I was complaining about something. I don't remember what…maybe the Wi-Fi was down. I seem to be a little obsessed with that. Anyway, a friend said maybe we should take a little trip to another shelter… and then I could shut the F up. And be thankful.
I didn't need the trip. I got the point. And I am thankful. Things are looking good for me now. I'm feeling better. Some of my other problems seem to be better, too. I'll be out of here and on my own sooner than later.
So when I have a bad moment or a bad day, which we all do sometimes, I just try to realize it could be worse. I think about my favorite philosopher. Musician Joe Walsh. He's always singing about taking things one day at a time and how life's been good to him so far. Sure…easy for him. He drives a Mazzerati. But I do get it. Gratitude is everything. All this is just a little blip.
This is a piece from the upcoming play The Homeless Monologues. Tickets are still available if you live in the Chicago area. Details below: