Today is my brother’s 39th birthday! Happy birthday Ryan. He has helped me in so many ways with my Year of Giving; from suggesting that I start on the anniversary of my mother’s passing to countless hours of computer and camera support to reading every blog post and pointing out mispelled words that I missed. He has been there with me the entire journey. Thanks LB! I love you.
Often times when I speak to someone about the Year of Giving and the conversation turns to the homeless people who I have given to people assume that they use the money for alcohol or drugs. Of course that has happened. However, sometimes you would be surprised what a homeless person does when they are offered $10. I was certainly surprised with Yab’s response.
On this particular day I was walking along 23rd Street near Rock Creek Park in northwest DC. I saw Yab lying on some cardboard on the side of the road. He was sleeping. I took a chance and went over and spoke to him. He took a second to wake up and I introduced myself. I explained what I was doing and we started talking.
Yab hasn’t shaved since 1997 (photo: Reed)
Originally from Ethiopia, Yab told me an amazing story about his life. He patiently invited me back to the year 1943 when he was seven years old living in Ethiopia. It was July, the cold season, when one morning he volunteered to take some of his family’s cattle up the mountain to graze. When he got to the top of the mountain, he came across a man standing outside a cave. “There’s a hyena inside there” the man told young Yab. He walked cautiously over to the entrance of the cave and peered inside. Sure enough, there was a massive hyena lying inside. The man suggested that they build a fire to drive the hyena out. Yab started to gather sticks and small logs to build the fire and the man came close to Yab and touched his arm and out of nowhere the wood caught fire and the hyena fled the cave. It wasn’t until 50 years later on President Clinton’s inauguration day on January 20th, 1993 that he realized who that man was. “I didn’t know it then, but that was God there with me.” Ever since this realization he has lived a deeply spiritual life. He shares his message asking everyone to accept Jesus into their life in this short clip.
So how did Yab get to the US from that mountainside in Ethiopia? Well, in the 1980s Yab was in Somalia working on some oil ventures when he was captured and taken hostage by terrorists who were against the country’s leader Siad Barre, who was later overthrown in 1991. When the UN and the Red Cross got involved he asked for political asylum to the United States. Since he had lived in the US briefly in 1958 he was given priority and offered asylum in Minnesota. He said he didn’t really want to go to Minnesota but they promised him free housing, free education, food, a Pell Grant, etc. However, when he arrived, he said that the assistance only lasted for about a month and then he was asked to leave the Mayflower Church where he was staying and told that he would have to go.
He eventually got them to give him $1,600 and a ticket to Washington, DC where he even got to meet with then Mayor Marion Barry before Barry went to prison in 1991.
Later that year Yab became homeless and has been so ever since.
The former electrical engineer now carries signs around with him with messages on them that definitely make you look twice. I asked him to explain some of the signs; most of which seemed too bizarre to be true. One said:
Monster Obama must stop cuttin’ human throats at the expense of:
1. Dupont Circle chess players
2. Oprah Winfrey – Arsenio Hall – Horton – Barry
3. Odinga PM of Kenya.
One of Yab’s signs (photo: Reed)
Probably the most extreme thing he shared with me was that he believed that President Obama was with the CIA and tried to kill him when he was in the concentration camp in Somalia. “I know it was him, I saw him.” I tried to understand his thoughts and messages but it was difficult to follow his logic. It reminded me a little bit of John from Day 121. Both men are extremely nice. Both have turned to signs to spread their message. And I think both are greatly misunderstood because their choice of messages.
photo: Reed
I finally asked the bearded 74-year-old what he planned to do with the $10. Would you believe that he gave it back to me and said that he wanted me to have it. He said that he hasn’t accepted money from anyone since he became homeless in 1991. “God will take care of me,” he assured me. I tried to convince him to keep it or give it to someone else, but he said he wanted me to have it. Faith and dignity are strong stubborn things.
I’ve walked by that place several times since I met Yab but haven’t seen him again.
Update 12/Oct/2010
I ran into Yab on the streets of DC today. He was doing well, seemed in good health and good spirits. He recognized me and remembered our conversation well. Pushing a cart full of personal items, he was walking south on Columbia Rd. toward Dupont.
Tommy and Loni pose for me at Dupont Circle (photo: Reed)
I was walking through Dupont Circle at dusk when I passed a man and woman sitting on a bench. As I got passed the couple I heard them both make some sexually suggestive comments to me. Flattering ones, but still it’s awkward to hear. I kept walking for about 30 yards and stopped and thought, this could be interesting. So, I turned around and decided to walk back and give my $10 to them. “He’s coming back” Tommy said a bit nervously perhaps as I headed back toward the bench where they were seated.
I spent the next hour talking to Tommy and Loni. I soon learned that Loni was a transgender. She told me that she had the full surgery and was completely operational. “Wanna take a look” she said with a demonic smile. Hmmm, I think I’ll pass.
They went back and forth a little deciding who was going to accept $10 until they finally agreed that Tommy would. “You have no idea how many times I have really needed $10″ he says.
Although now he has a place to stay, Tommy used to live right here in Dupont Circle. “I love the park, but the problem with this place is that there are too many people sharing my room” he says as he gives way to a hearty laugh. I laughed as well. He shared that one time he was sleeping on the edge of the fountain at the circle when he rolled off into the water. (Hey, I’ve been in that fountain too!)
When Tommy came to DC last October, he said he “jumped right into the gay community.” He explains that back in Detroit there is not a strong gay community any more. “There used to be like 60 gay bars there, now there is maybe six!” Although he says that Detroit gets a bad reputation, there are some really beautiful parts. “The architecture is amazing” he says as he explains that Detroit has the largest collection of art deco architecture in the US (I always thought it was more of a Miami Beach thing.)
Tommy says that he will use the money to help someone else out. “I try to help people all the time” he says. “What comes around goes around – I live off the kindness of others.”
Tommy showed me some of his dance moves (photo: Reed)
I asked him what he was doing for money and he replied, “Tomorrow I am starting a stripper job – I need a wig though, know anywhere I can get one?” I actually don’t have a lot of knowledge of wigs surprisingly. He also told me that he uses a pseudonym for his dancing. “I go by Gordon – it’s my brother and dad’s name.” Wow…that just seems wrong. If I found out my brother was stripping and using my Dad’s name, I think I would be more upset that he was using Dad’s name than I would be that he was stripping.
Tommy told me that he used to be a designer until he was laid off three years ago. And before that – 27 years ago to be exact – he used to do modeling. In fact he said that he was the first male model for Calvin Klein.
We exchanged contact information and I said goodbye. Just then Loni started talking to a guy who approached her. This guy seemed really strange, like he was under the influence of something or had some mental illness. Tommy was quick to make sure that she was ok. Once the other guy left, Loni went on her way and I started heading home. Tommy and I walked a short ways together and chatted a little more. He told me that some times he writes phrases with chalk on the sidewalk at Dupont Circle. “I like this one thing I wrote, Speak without doubt!” I like that too.
I actually saw Tommy again today in Dupont Circle, but he was busy talking with someone. I have a feeling I will see him some more.
When my good friend Kim recently turned 40 she threw a tremendous celebration. She is someone who always thinks about others first. Her birthday was no exception. When guests arrived they were greeted by a woman who gave them two small rectangular pieces of paper and informed them that they were to write two things that they were going to start doing the next day that would positively impact their life. Then they were to use those pieces of paper as free drink coupons at the bar. We then had put a name tag on and on that tag we had to described how we knew Kim and when we first met her. I wrote down that I was her personal sangria maker (which is sorta true) but actually we met in 2008 while working at a non-profit health organization focused on reducing childhood obesity.
We were told that there was also a video room where we were encouraged to go and leave a video message for Kim. Her daughter was in charge of the filming and did a terrific job.
Kay and her husband Marion (photo: Reed)
So there I am at the entrance trying to figure out what I would do that would change my life starting tomorrow. That is a really difficult question. Think about it, what would you do starting tomorrow to positively change your life forever. I had no idea I would have so much responsibility bestowed upon my shoulders when I told Kim that I would be there to celebrate with her. Most other people had written something down rather quickly and went inside. I had flashbacks to my algebra final in the 10th grade when other students were finishing their tests and leaving me all alone sweating through the problems. It was about this time that I thought I overheard the woman who was explaining to us what we were to do with the papers say that she was Kim’s mom. I asked her again just to make sure that I heard correctly to which she said, “Yes, I’m Kay, Kim’s mother.” I stopped what I was doing and went straight to her and gave her a giant hug. She was probably a little startled but it was just my instinct. She must be a pretty phenomenal woman herself to raise such an amazing woman like Kim.
I decided to give Kay my $10 for the day! She said she didn’t know what she would do with it, but she would “pass it on to someone else.”
Cake being delivered to Kim (photo: Reed)
Kay, who lives in California, was in DC for her daughter’s birthday celebration. She is a supervisor for an organization that investigates welfare fraud. “It’s rampant, people do all kinds of things” she tells me. Apparently people go buy groceries with a type of food stamps debit card and then report that it was stolen or something and that it wasn’t them who used the card and then they get reimbursed cash for the amount of the card.
Kim is such a giving person, I thought I would ask Kay about her giving habits. “I give, but not as much financially as maybe I should, but I do give of my time.” As I have said many times here, simple gifts of your time and conversation are often much more valuable than monetary gifts.
I didn’t want to hold up Kay more; after all it was her daughter’s 40th birthday party! I snapped a quick photo of her and joined the party.
“The secret of genius is to carry the spirit of the child [as you age], which means never losing your enthusiasm.” – Aldous Huxley
Today’s recipients are third year medical students at George Washington University Medical School. It seems that I have had a lot of recipients in the medical field over the last couple weeks.
I was walking by SoHo Café on the corner of P and 22nd Street, which by the way if you live in DC you should definitely check this place out. They are really nice there and always take good care of you. Anyway, I saw a guy in front of the café holding a bottle of booze and thought that this guy is starting his weekend off with a bang! He turned out to be a rather bizarre individual. He was really paranoid or on some mind altering substance and became very nervous. Soon another individual approached him and he refused my Alexander Hamilton and walked away.
I slowly turned in a circle, scanning the scene until I saw Kat and Ben sitting at an outside table at SoHo. They had laptops out and seemed to be working on a project (they were actually filling out rotation schedules) or something. I walked up to them and introduced myself and the Year of Giving.
The med students were a bit curious about my project. Ben asked a couple investigative questions about the project. I asked them if they would accept the $10 and they looked at each other and shrugged and said “Sure.”
I asked them what they thought they might specialize in. They were still pretty open-minded about this and didn’t really have any decision made yet. “Not geriatrics or psychology” Ben said. Kat agreed.
I asked them what they liked to do when they were not studying. “We live pretty boring lives,” Ben lamented. I felt bad about invading their time when he said “This is about the only time we have free.” But that didn’t stop me! No sir! Not me. Seriously, I tried not to keep them too long, but I did want to learn a little more about them. I found out that Kate loves to play soccer and has been playing since she was 4! She really enjoyed watching the World Cup this year. Ben shared that he did his undergraduate studies at Knox College, a small liberal arts school in Illinois. There he had a radio show for four years and later became the general manager. He also studied abroad in Copenhagen.
I thought that was pretty impressive and then Kat added that she studied abroad in Spain (Salamanca) and spent some time in Switzerland and New Zealand where she jumped out of a perfectly good airplane! Pretty impressive.
So what would two young people who seem to have it all do with this new found $10? Ben seemed to take the lead in their decision making process and explained to me the likely fate of the ten spot. “Honestly, I think $5 will go toward beer, $3 and change toward an empanada at Julia’s Empanadas and the rest will end up as tip probably.”
Ben and Kat, on left, enjoy some down-time from their busy med school studies (photo: Reed)
As I always do, I asked to photograph them and get their email so that I can send them an invite to the year-end celebration. Usually younger people are very comfortable with both of these requests, however, they preferred to stay more anonymous. They did allow me to take this one picture from far away…that’s them sitting at the table on the left.
Well, I felt like I might have worn out my welcome a little and said goodbye. I do hope that they check out the blog and decide to come to the celebration in December. Time to head home before it rains.
I said back on Day 218 that sometimes I just find myself in the moment and realize I am talking to the person who should receive my $10. Day 227 was just such a day.
I had walked down to the corner of 19th and M Streets to see Anthony from Day 67. It was his birthday and I had bought him a mini birthday cake. He was in a great mood and lots of people were stopping by to wish him well.
Lisa feeling a little better (photo: Reed)
While we were chatting a woman crossed the street and as she stepped up onto the curb she lost her footing and went down. I saw it. Anthony heard it. She went down hard launching the ice-tea that she had in her hand through the air. I ran over to her to see if she was ok. Despite being a little frazzled and embarrassed she seemed ok. She was more upset about the ice-tea I think! I helped her up and saw the blood starting to form around the skinless patch on her leg. I walked with her over to the Au Bon Pain where there were some chairs outside and she sat down to catch her breath and check her leg. Meanwhile I went in and asked the store manager for some bandages and alcohol. Unfortunately they couldn’t find any bandages so I walked over to the 7-11 and bought a box of Band-Aids. There weren’t any that were large enough to cover the entire scrape though.
As she cleaned herself up, I gave her my $10. After all I had a somewhat captive audience, right! Lisa is a 43-year-old member services representative for a credit union. For the past nine years she has been handling the members’ accounts, loans and helping them get credit.
Although she now lives in Maryland, she grew up in DC. I asked her what some of her more memorable moments in the nation’s capital were. She didn’t hesitate at all before replying, “Getting to see the first black president.” She paused for a second and slightly nodded her head, “I didn’t expect to see that in my lifetime.” She shared that she wished that her mother and father would have been alive to see it. You could feel the hope in her voice as she talked about her four children and the opportunities they will have.
photo: Reed
I asked her what she would do with the $10. “I think I’m going to get me a nice lunch and a smoothie” she said.
Well, Lisa needed to get on her way. She slowly stood up and eased some pressure on her leg. “I’m ok” she said as she started to walk back to her office.
It felt nice to take time to help someone. I’m sure the $10 will help make up for the ice-tea that she lost, but for me being able to help her and make sure that she was alright was worth more than anything I had in my wallet.
Sometimes I get almost to the end of the day and still haven’t given away my $10. The biggest challenge when this happens is that being dark outside creates another element to the task. At least here in the city, people’s defense mechanisms are heightened at night. We are much more leery of someone who approaches us at night, so sometimes I end up going to business establishments that are lit up where people have a greater sense of security, albeit perhaps a false one.
Bar at Kramer's Afterwords Cafe (Photo: Reed)
A few minutes later a few guys came in and I honed in on my target: Pat.
He was a white guy with a beard who looked to be in his twenties. He had a Pabst Blue Ribbon hat on and a shirt that said something like “Grumpy’s.” This should be interesting.
It turns out that Pat is a chef at a nearby restaurant. I love to cook and had my chance to ask him some burning questions I had, but I didn’t capitalize on the opportunity. I did ask him however what his favorite item to prepare was. “The pig. It’s the greatest animal ever! It’s 100% edible from snout to tail.” I would have thought some other animals fit that description too, but maybe they are not as tasty as the pig.
We started talking about some other things and the topic of the snowpocalypse came up. He told me how he ended up being stuck downtown for a week. His employer got him and some other staff a room for the week and he worked 14 hour days. “We did our best day of business so far this year on the day of the snowball fight at Dupont Circle” Pat tells me. “We sold over 200 bottles of wine in just two hours.” They couldn’t open bottles fast enough at one point.
I asked Pat to think of three words that fully described him. “Genuine, crazy and asshole” he says as he looks to his pals to get confirmation. “I tell it like it is and I help other people out.” As for being crazy he says that anyone who works in the restaurant busy is crazy. “You can’t work in this business and be sane. This is the most hard-core cut-throat business there is.” He adds that alcohol and drug abuse is more common in restaurant service business too which “makes it even crazier.”
The big and small hand on the clock are creeping toward 12 when the Metro closes during the week and Pat is ever mindful of the time. He and his buddies decide they have to leave in order to catch the last train. They were heading to watch Showtime’s comedy-drama hit Weeds.
“I’ll probably spend the $10 on alcohol or put it on my Metro card.” He grabs his bag and downs the rest of his beer. “It’ll probably get spent on alcohol” he says with a smile as he hurries out the door.
Would you believe the very next day I was driving along 22nd Street in DC and saw Pat and his PBR hat. He didn’t see me because I couldn’t stop, but it was him. Small world.
I have hit the streets every single day for the past 225 days searching for someone to give my $10 to. This journey started out during a difficult time for me. For the first time since I was 12 (stop calling the Department of Labor, I was a paper boy!) I was out of a job. Through the Year of Giving I meet so many other amazing people who are in similar situations and every day they look for work or someone who will give them a chance. Today I met a person who does just that!
Robert (photo: Reed)
Robert Egger is the Founder and President of the DC Central Kitchen, the nation’s first “community kitchen”, where unemployed men and women learn marketable culinary skills while donated food is converted into wholesome meals. Pretty cool, eh?
At 52, Robert’s life has taken an unlikely course for someone whose dream 30 years ago was to open the quintessential nightclub in the country. Back then he worked in clubs and bars and even got to see the Ramones and Bruce Springsteen play in what is now the Darlington House in Dupont. As we walk east along E Street, Robert explains how in 1989 he cooked up this idea to feed the poor after a volunteer experience. 20 million meals later, he and DC Central Kitchen have done a lot of good and given over 700 men and women full-time employment as well!
In one of our tangents, Robert explained how two men covered the entire country painting Mail Pouch signs on barns. One went and made the deals and the other followed painting he barns.
I had seen Robert once before. He spoke at an event earlier this year and I was so impressed at how he sees the world. He can take 5 random subject ingredients, toss them together and come up with a coherent message that is meaningful and memorable. It’s no surprise that he spends a great deal of his time speaking to groups around the country about harnessing nonprofit power.
He was born in the little town of Milton, Florida (population about 10,000) nine months after his parents tied the knot. “I was a wedding night baby!” he says with a wide grin that reaches outside of his goatee. “1958 – me, Madonna, Prince and Kevin Bacon!” Can you name three famous people who were born the same year you were? I don’t think I can.
One thing you definitely notice about Robert is that he speaks fast. Trying to walk and jot down notes was nearly impossible so I busted out the Flip camera. Try to keep up…
As he arrives back at the DC Central Kitchen, a young woman named Becky walks by. Robert snags her and beams as he tells me what a great job she has done leading their job placement program. “We placed 20 out of 21 candidates in our last class” Becky says and then hustles back to work.
As she slips out of sight I shift back into my list of questions for Robert. Before I could even get my next thought conjured up in my head another team member, Quinn, walks by. Robert pulls him aside and says “I know exactly what I am going to do with this $10 and Quinn here is going to make it happen!” Quinn’s face looked like most people’s face when I tell them I want to give them $10…a little confused. But he goes with the flow and Robert explains how giving the $10 to Quinn will impact thousands of people in the DC area. This is cool, check it out.
Not only is he the President of DC Central Kitchen, but he has parlayed his success as a social entrepreneur into two other related ventures, the Campus Kitchens Project and Fresh Start Catering. On top of that he founded a political action group that represents the voice of social enterprise and non-profits called V3 and wrote a book (which I just bought!) called Begging for Change that is a plea for reform for the 800 billion dollar non-profit sector.
The guy is busy and keeps an insane calendar, but the chaos of his schedule puts him in front of people all across this country. And when he is in cabs or waiting for a plane to depart he is updating his twitter and facebook status. Hopefully you will get the chance to speak with Robert one day – it’s invigorating. My suggestion if you see him, and you want to try to get him to sit still for a second, is to offer him big-ass margarita made with Herradura Tequila and freshly squeezed lime juice. Drop me a line and let me know if it works!
Were you aware that there are people enslaved in the US today? Unfortunately this is all too common occurrence in the agriculture business; eight cases in Florida alone in the past 12 years and many more that go undocumented.
Recently I was walking home from work when I passed a truck parked up on the grass in front of the Church of the Pilgrims in between 23rd Street and Florida Avenue in Northwest DC. On the side of the truck was written “Florida Modern Slavery Museum.” It’s hard to believe that this exists in the US in 2010! But it does. A new case was just filed last month. As I browse through the exhibit I read the stories of those who have been held against their will, chained, beaten, pistol whipped and even shot.
Julia (photo: Reed)
I got the opportunity to sit down and speak with Julia and Lucas; two members of the Coalition of Immokalee Workers (CIW). Their organization is one of three groups that have come together to produce the museum and travel the country educating people about the horrifying status quo of farming conditions in Florida and many other parts of the country. The CIW is a community-based organization of mainly Latino, Mayan Indian and Haitian immigrants working in low-wage jobs throughout the state of Florida. Their organization has communal in nature and has no hierarchy or executive director for that matter. They are 4,000 people united to improve the working conditions of the farmers.
Julia and Lucas are traveling accompanying the museum as it makes its nearly four-week tour up and down the East Coast. They explain to me that although the museum started this year, the CIW has been around since 1993. They share with me the “other side of agriculture…the dark side.” You might think that this is a situation that you are far removed from, however, Julia reminds us that we all are involved. “This is about the people who harvest the fruits and vegetables that you purchase in your local grocery store.” They explain to me that the grocery stores are a part of this too. They pay very low fees for the products that they get. So little that the result is that the farmers provide low wages and poor conditions to their workers. Some cases get so bad that the workers, who are often immigrants with little recourse, become held against their will in a modern enslavement of sorts.
Lucas (photo: Reed)
“Are there any grocery stores that have taken a strong position against working with any farms that are found to be offenders?” I asked. They told me that Whole Foods is the only chain so far that has stepped up and worked with their organization and committed to stop these deplorable conditions. So you might ask what it is that the CIW asks of these big grocery giants since so many of them are not working with CIW. They ask them to do three things that sound pretty reasonable:
• Pay an additional penny per pound for tomatoes purchased to directly increase the wages of tomato pickers;
• Implement an enforceable code of conduct to ensure safe and fair working conditions for farm workers, including zero tolerance for modern-day slavery;
• Ensure a voice for farm workers in monitoring improvements and reporting abuses.
Some restaurants have agreed to these principles: Yum Brands (KFC, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, etc), McDonald’s, Burger King and Subway.
I didn’t get a chance to ask them why it is focused on tomato-pickers and not more general, it seems like we should be protecting all types of farm workers.
I have two videos to share with you on this topic. The first one is an extensive conversation with Julia about the current situation as well as a call to action of what we can do to help abolish these inhumane practices.
The second video is with Julia and Lucas and it is in Spanish. (Este video se explica la situacion actual del abuso de campesinos en el estado de Florida)
Julia and Lucas will use the $10 to put toward gas and food for the crew during their journey. If you would like to meet Julia, Lucas and their colleagues and visit the museum, you can check them out here:
Aug. 9 Boston, City Hall Plaza, Intersection of Congress St & North St 10 am to 8 pm
Aug. 10 Northampton, MA, In front of Pulaski Park on Main St., near Masonic St. and Smith College, 10 am – 8 pm
Aug. 14 Baltimore – Location TBD
Aug. 16 Charlotte, NC, Compass Group corporate offices, 2400 Yorkmont Road, 10am – 6pm
If you would like to learn more about CIW or make a donation, please click here.
Eric fights to protect the right to affordable housing in the District (photo: Reed)
Recently I met Ca’Vonn, a struggling mother of six in DC’s Shaw neighborhood who is part of the Tent City DC community at the corner of 7th and R Streets in Northwest. On one of my other visits to the controversial Parcel 42 I met Eric Sheptock. Eric is a homeless advocate who’s life story is as amazing as it is horrific.
He tells me a chilling story about a couple who decided they no longer wanted there eight-month-old baby boy and attempted to murder the child by beating the innocent infant until they cracked his head open and left him to die in a New Jersey motel. Thankfully someone found the bludgeoned baby and rushed him to the hospital. Unfortunately this isn’t an except from a story by Stephen King or Richard Laymon, it’s Eric’s real life story
This stomach churning saga has a happy ending though. Eric survived the ordeal and five years of foster care until he was later adopted by a family in New Jersey: the Sheptocks. If the name sounds familiar, you might have heard about them before. They had seven children of their own and adopted 30 others. That’s quite a family. They have been in the media several times and there was even a book written about them!
Eric and his family moved around in New Jersey and finally settled in Florida. As a young adult he got a job there at a hospital and worked there for a couple of years until he left over a disagreement. He took his final check and decided to go to New Jersey. In 1994 his money ran out and Eric became homeless; a situation that he has maintained on and off since that time. That was not the only tragedy of 1994. On August 11th of the same year his petite 33-year-old girlfriend, a six-pack a day drinker, died of cirrhosis of the liver.
In 2005 Eric was back in Florida living in a tent in the woods. He was fed up with the war that we were waging in Iraq and decided to move to Washington, DC and become an activist. He set out on July 6th which was President Bush’s birthday coincidentally.
Eric at Parcel 42 aka Tent City DC at 7th and R in NW (photo: Reed)
He walked and hitchhiked most of the way. He told me several amazing stories about his journey. One that I will share with you is that as Eric was walking through Virginia he came into the town of Farmville late one evening. There were no street lamps there due to some city ordinances or something but he did finally see a light off in the distance. When he got closer he realized that the light was coming from the porch of a church. Despite the porch crawling with large spiders, he made it his resting place for the night. He awoke the next morning, Sunday, to find the spiders replaced by churchgoers. They invited him in to service, fed him and gave him $84 from a collection they passed around for him. He went on his way and was offered a ride by a passerby who ended up driving him almost 50 miles out of his way to a bus stop in Charlottesville, VA. When Eric tried to offer him some money for the gas, the driver refused and actually gave him $20!
Soon after arriving in DC he started advocating to keep the Franklin Shelter open. He met with former Mayor Williams, current Mayor Fenty and others and shook their hand as they promised that they would all support keeping the facility open. Sadly, once in office, Eric says that Fenty closed the shelter.
Eric continues to advocate for homeless members of our community as well as those who have housing but struggle to keep up with rising rental rates. He has over 4,000 friends on facebook and 700 followers on twitter. This is impressive given that he says he didn’t know how to use a computer until four years ago.
With his feet-on-the-ground approach coupled with his efforts in social media, Eric has become the voice for so many who have been muted due to their social and economic situation. He hopes to some day find gainful employment that allows him to secure affordable housing for low-income and homeless individuals. Although he has been successful in doing this for a handful of people, he wants to scale his efforts to a more seismic level.
Eric says he will put $5 on his Metro card and use the remaining $5 for food.
I had the opportunity to record some of his passion for affordable housing for DC residents. The following video is a little long (when I tried to use my free editor, it lowered the quality so bad that I felt it was better to leave in its original uncut format), but very informative. Take a minute to listen to Eric and learn about the current struggles related to affordable housing in our nation’s capital.
Carlton sometimes does as many as 10 paintings a day (photo: Reed)
Carlton is sprawled out on the sidewalk in front of Bank of America along Dupont Circle, his feet extending over the edge of the curb and into traffic. His right hand, covered with paint, swiftly dances over the canvas of a landscape of a far off mountain accompanied by some trees in the foreground. He pops up and talks to a man who approaches him. He displays another painting that he has next to him to the man. They talk for a few minutes and then the man takes his wallet out and pulls a twenty from it and places it in Carlton’s hand. In exchange he hands him the painting.
I decided to go up to Carlton and ask if he would accept my $10. He was genuinely curious about what I was doing. We chatted about his past, the present and the future. It was a pretty memorable evening.
photo: Reed
At 45 Carlton has been through a lot. But painting here at Dupont Circle brings his story full circle. You see it was here about 10 years ago that he used to sleep in the park and panhandle in front of the CVS. He was a homeless out-of-work drug user. One evening he went into the park and shot up with some dirty needles. He suspects it was that specific night that he contracted the HIV virus. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, but the addiction had blurred his judgment. It reminds me of Rob from Day 117 who said, “The thing about addiction is that people continue these behaviors in spite of catastrophic consequences.” Anyway, he went years without knowing he was infected until he started to get quite ill and lost a considerable amount of weight. He went to the hospital and found out that he was HIV positive. He says that his health is good these days thanks to three little pills that he takes every day. He says he knocked his drug addiction although still drinks alcohol which I could smell on his breath.
It was only about a year and a half ago that Carlton started painting. “I didn’t want to panhandle no more” he said. He got started when a woman left him some paint by the bench where he was sleeping. He decided to give it a try. “God taught me,” he answers when I ask if he was self-taught. The reason he chooses to paint at Dupont Circle is that he hopes that some of the same people who used to see him strung out years ago will see him today and realize that he has talent and that he has improved his situation. He talks to me about why he likes to paint landscapes, how he has deals with being HIV positive and being homeless:
With the money that I gave him he said he was going to buy some colored paints.
Here is another few minutes of my conversation with Carlton. I asked him how others can help him and I thought his answer was beautiful.
I really enjoyed talking with him. As it got late and he finished his last painting he said that he needed to catch the Metro. “Hey, why don’t you take this painting” he offers as he pushes the painting you see in these pictures toward me. I told him that I couldn’t receive anything in return for the $10 but I did appreciate the gesture.
If you would like to find Carlton, he is often at Dupont Circle in front of the Bank of America during the afternoons. And sometimes he is there at night, like today. His paintings range from $20 and up, depending on the size and type.
UPDATE: I ran into Carlton on June 1, 2011 and visited with him for a while. You can read about my latest encounter with him by clicking here.
Have you heard of Tent City in DC? I hadn’t until a week ago Thursday when I went to an event for Bread for the City on 7th Street and then walked a few blocks with Karen, a YoG follower, to see what was going on there.
Tent City DC was founded on July 10th, 2010 when members from a variety of community groups including ONE DC came together to bring attention to the lack of affordable housing in the District. Long time residents are finding it nearly impossible to pay their rent much less achieve home ownership. Here is a news clip that aired on ABC Channel 7 on their first day.
Some of the community member's tents (photo: Reed)
Tent City DC is located at 7th and R Streets on a piece of land known as Parcel 42. You can find information about Parcel 42 here. The short story according to ONE DC’s website is that their organization had a meeting with then Deputy Mayor Neil Albert and reached an agreement that Parcel 42 would be developed into “very affordable housing.” This has not happened and in fact it is rumored that this land will now be one of the many land areas here that get turned into luxury housing. As a result of this, Tent City DC was established. An interesting side note is that I have been there several times now and see almost no involvement from ONE DC anymore. They apparently pulled most of their volunteers out of Parcel 42 after the fifth day, however, other community members have kept the protest going.
I went back to Tent City DC the next day to bring some food, water, and supplies to the residents. While I was there I met Ca’Vonn.
A Shaw resident for past eleven years, she was born in DC and has grown up all over town. After 15 years of marriage, she is now in the process of a divorce and trying to raise her six children; the youngest of which turned three on Monday. I learned that a seventh child sadly died of SIDS.
Ca’Vonn said she had been there since the first day (photo: Reed)
She hopes to finish her studies at the University of the District of Columbia where she was studying journalism and music education. But all of these demands have put a tremendous amount of pressure on the 33-year-old single mom. And to make matters worse, she finds it increasingly difficult to find suitable housing for her and her kids. That is why she is voicing her opinion about the need for affordable housing in her community.
As we are talking, two teenagers enter into Tent City DC and start talking to some of the members of the tent community. All of a sudden, the one boy who was shirtless and had the number 500 tattooed across his stomach snatched a bicycle from a Tent City DC community member and rode off with it. Can you believe it?! Ca’Vonn got up and tried to calm the young lady down.
Ca'Vonn looks for some relief from the scorching sun (photo: Reed)
My time at Tent City DC is somewhat surreal. Although it’s just a small patch of land in the city, it represents so much more. Gentrification has become rampant in many parts of DC, the Shaw community included. This instance is a symbol of the systemic virus that is crippling our community. Families who have lived in this neighborhood for generations are facing the reality that they will have to abandon their grandparents’ homes and try to start over in a new place. If you want to help or learn what is going on at Tent City DC, you can check out their blog or check out the Lend a Hand page.
So what does a mother of six children do with $10 during one of the hottest summers we have had in a long time? She says she will treat her kids to an ice cream that evening!
Started in 1974, Bread for the City is a front line agency serving Washington’s poor. The agency began as two organizations; Zacchaeus Free Clinic began in 1974 as a volunteer-run free medical clinic, and Bread for the City was created in 1976 by a coalition of downtown churches to feed and clothe the poor. The two entities merged in 1995. Today, we operate two Centers in the District of Columbia and provide direct services to low-income residents of Washington, DC. All of our services are free. Our mission is to provide comprehensive services, including food, clothing, medical care, legal and social services to low-income Washington, DC residents in an atmosphere of dignity and respect. – Source: www.breadforthecity.org
I have been aware of Bread for the City for many years, however, haven’t had the chance to get to know their services first hand. So I decided to attend their Parking Lot Picnic and got to meet several of the staff members there and even got a tour of the facility which is currently being expanded (Thanks Kristin!) Some of their staff worked hard all afternoon to provide hot dogs and hamburgers for everyone. I grabbed a burger and sat down at a table next to Mike. I had no idea how he and his story would impact me.
Mike and Reed (photo: Marnette)
Mike has been volunteering at Bread for the City for the last three years, but his relationship with the organization goes back much further. You see Mike was a bicycle messenger and used to do a lot of deliveries for an insurance claims center. He would go to Bread for the City and pick up claims for their clients and then deliver them to the processing center. He was there all the time. “Of all the places that I had to go and make a pick-up, this is the only place that had all their forms ready and organized” he said.
Well during the time that he was picking up forms at Bread for the City, his wife was struggling with a mysterious illness. “No one could figure it out. She couldn’t hold anything down” he said. “No fluids, nothing!” She got down to 98 pounds and was deathly ill. “About once a week we would have to call an ambulance and she’d go in and they’d give her an IV and she’d be better for a while, but then when she would get home it’d start again.” They stuck her so many times that they had to resort to her neck in order to find good veins.
Finally one day he was at Bread for the City and met Dr. Randi, the organization’s medical director. Dr. Randi agreed to take a look at his wife’s situation and noticed she was on all kinds of medications. Dr. Randi ordered her to stop taking all the medicine for a while so that she could start to understand what was going wrong and then carefully prescribe medicine to correct the issues that she discovers. Well guess what happened? After Marnette, Mike’s wife, went off all the medicine, she started getting better. She was holding down food and putting on weight. It wasn’t long before she was perfectly fine. I met Marnette, who works in food service at Powell Elementary School, and she looked healthy and said she couldn’t feel better today. They are both extremely thankful for Dr. Randi’s dedication and compassion.
Photo: Reed
Fast forward to the present. He and his wife are happily married and healthy. Mike no longer is a bike messenger. “The bike messenger business has completely changed.” According to Mike after 9/11, the anthrax scares and the increased exchange of electronic files, the number of bike messengers in DC plummeted. Now he drives tour buses and limousines. “Instead of taking envelopes from Point A to Point B, I take people!”
Mike said that he was going to use the $10 to buy groceries for him and his wife.
If you would like to volunteer or support Bread for the City, go to their website and click on “Get Involved.”
Day 219 was an interesting experience. It ended up being about 10:00pm and I hadn’t given away my $10 yet.
Tara and Sean in the fountain at Dupont Circle (photo: Reed)
On my way home from an event I attended I decided to see who I could find at Dupont Circle. I saw a group of people sitting on the edge of the fountain. A young lady in their group was actually standing in the fountain and two others dangled their feet in the cool water in search of some respite from the smothering heat. Just as I got close to them they spotted a friend passing by and started chatting with him. I kept walking to the south side of the fountain and sat down on a bench and just watched the scene for a little bit. It wasn’t long before I spotted Tara and Sean.
I saw a couple who were standing in the fountain getting their picture taken by a random person. They were using their phone to take the picture and I overheard someone saying that the picture didn’t come out very well. Although I didn’t have my SLR camera with me I did have my small canon digital camera that my friend Patricia lent me when my canon digital camera died. I figured I might be able to get a better picture for them. While offering to take their photo I took advantage of the opportunity to ask them to be my 219th recipient. This launched us into a thirty minute roller coaster discussion about my motives and reasoning behind my project and giving in general.
While Tara seemed more open to accepting the $10, Sean was quite clear that he didn’t want the money. A few times he actually said that he would accept it but wanted me then to go and find someone more “deserving” to give it to. I explained that he could do that but he wasn’t interested in that option. At a certain point I wrote the encounter off as a refusal and decided to take the photo of the two twenty-somethings anyway and send it to them.
About that time Tara made me an offer. “If you get in the fountain with me I will accept your $10” I was dressed in a suit and can assure you that if you had asked me earlier that day to name 100 potential things I would be doing later that evening, jumping in the fountain at Dupont Circle would not have made the list. With a little encouragement from Tara I decided to take her up on the offer. I think this marks the first time that I have had to do something for someone else in order for them to accept my $10.
Off went my socks and shoes. I rolled up my suit pants to my knees and
Reed steps around to the other side of the camera (photo: Sean)
swung my leg over the edge of the fountain. Before I knew it the two of us were standing in the middle of the fountain laughing as Sean took a photo of us. It was fun and felt really good.
We got out of the fountain and I let my feet dry off a little.
I found out that Tara works for a property management firm in Annapolis, MD where she has lived her entire life with the exception of attending East Carolina University. Sean and her have been friends since their freshman year of high school. On this night they were just hanging out, catching up with one another and having a few drinks.
I asked Tara what she planned on doing with the $10. “I want to do something good with it but it might just get spent on alcohol at the next bar we go to” she admits. I told her that she could do anything she wanted to with the money. “You know what, I am going to find a homeless person to give it to on the way to where we’re going.”
I put my socks and shoes back on and said goodbye to them both. They headed toward the Dupont Hotel and I headed back toward my place.
I got the following email from Tara the next day:
Reed,
I met you last night in the Dupont Circle fountain and you chose my friend Sean and I to be your Pay it Forward. I wanted to let you know after a deliciously over priced martini at Cafe Dupont, before retrieving a cab, I walked back over to the circle and woke up a homeless man. I asked him if he was hungry, he said “of course” and then I handed him the $10.
The first words out of his mouth were “God bless you, your an angel” and I just walked away. I’ve read many of the responses on your blog about peoples’ judgement on why we (being the participants that give away the money to someone that “deserves” it) would do such a thing. It isn’t even because it made me feel good, because it didn’t, I was thinking about the much larger picture and impact that you are having on so many people. After grabbing the cab and passing off the $10, we went back to my friends house and were sitting there telling his roommates about how we met this crazy guy named “Reed” and everything about the Year of Giving and his one roommate was like “Yea, yea, yea… OH MY GOD, I’ve heard about this guy! He’s like famous.” And of course I start laughing immediately at Sean from his skepticism but we were so enlightened by the whole experience.
Point being:
a) You chose my friend and I for a reason
b) We could have easily spent the $10 at the bar but instead that $10 fed a homeless man for the next 2 days.
c) Making you get into the fountain with me just so you could give me $10 was RIDICULOUS!
d) What you are doing is special, kind and humbling.
God bless you and your ventures!!!
I’m excited to follow you up until your Christmas Party!
Deborah (left) and Keely pose with two five-spots! (photo: Reed)
Sometimes I find myself in the middle of a conversation with someone and realize I should give my $10 to the person that I am speaking with. This happened on Day 218. My friend Patricia was on her way to Australia and had some friends coming to stay at her place while she was gone so we agreed to meet so that she could leave her key with me to give to them when they got into town. Sounds slightly complicated, but really it was quite straightforward.
Patricia showed up with Keely, Patricia’s sister, and Deborah. The two ladies have been friends almost all their life. They met around the age of 10 and they are about 40 now…so 30 years more or less. They live in Long Island and were in DC visiting Patricia. As I witnessed their banter back and forth I couldn’t help but find the entire conversation hysterical. Having known each other for so long, they seem to know what the other will say and almost finish each other’s sentences on a regular basis.
Keely is married and has three children and works as an elementary school librarian. Deborah is single with no kids and works as an office manager at an accounting firm.
We talked about all kinds of interesting facts. For example the most popular book in the elementary school where Keely teaches is a book by American author Jeff Kinney called The Diary of a Wimpy Kid. I had never heard of this book, but then again what do I know about the reading habits of ten-year-olds? She said that she only lets third graders and above borrow it due to its subject matter. Keely didn’t buy my notion that the Dewey Decimal System will one day be replaced by something more contemporary. I know it’s based on a simple principle, but I got to think that after 135 years somebody would have come up with an even better system!
Deborah, who Keely says is an extremely loyal friend, has a bit of a fear of heights. She doesn’t like the escalators at the Metro and is not even fond of going up in her attic. However, she had no problem jumping in a hot air balloon and going up thousands of feet in the Arizona sky. She admits that logically she should have had more fear of the “glorified wicker basket.” In fact she loved it. I found it funny that they allowed alcohol on the hot air balloon ride so that they could do a champagne toast but didn’t allow anyone to board with flip-flops – for supposed safety reasons.
The conversation turned to food and I learned that both Keely and Deborah are a little obsessed with two iconic food establishments: Cracker Barrel and Dairy Queen (I think they like to be called DQ now.) Check them out here talking about both places:
I checked DQ.com and it seems that they are right; there are no DQ’s on Long Island. The closest ones are in NJ. I think Carvel dominated that region. Well, free advice for the DQ folks: Open a store on Long Island!!!
The conversation turned a little more serious when we discussed what they would do with the $10. Keely and Patricia’s uncle was recently diagnosed with non Hodgkin’s lymphoma so Keely and Deborah thought that maybe they would donate it to a charity that focuses on finding a cure for the disease. I think he was to start chemotherapy last week so I hope that we have good news soon! I told them to tell their uncle to be strong!
I later learned that the following day on the way to the airport they risked being late for their flight to make a quick pit-stop at a DQ. Thankfully they got their ice cream and got back on the road and arrived at the airport just in time!
I’m heading over to the Legg Mason Tennis Classic later today. Should be a good day of tennis, both Andy Roddick and John Isner are playing tonight! They play up at the William H.G. FitzGerald Tennis Center in Rock Creek Park. If you are not familiar with Rock Creek Park, it is a beautiful sanctuary of green space in Washington, DC that is twice the size of New York’s Central Park.
On my way home from work I walk right by the lower part of the park. One evening after work I noticed that there were only two people in the park near the entrance of the park at 23rd and O Streets. One was a young man who was sitting by himself in the middle of the park. The other was a man who was walking around in a slightly crazed manner. I watched as the wandering man got closer and closer to the guy sitting by himself.
By the time I got close to the guy sitting on the grass, the other man had wandered over to the edge of the woods. I decided to approach the young man sitting by himself.
Raoul preferred not to be photographed, but he was sitting just over the hill to the right (photo: Reed)
I introduced myself and took a seat next to Raoul. He’s a 32-year-old professional who works here in DC for a non-profit focused on energy sustainability. “I came out here just to relax a little and catch up on some emails,” he told me as he lifted his right hand to reveal a cell phone.
There are some tennis courts and a swimming pool adjacent to where we were sitting and Raoul told me that he had actually just came from a swim over at the pool. I have never been to the Francis Swimming Pool (2500 N. Street). In fact I didn’t even know it was there until a few weeks ago. Given how hot it has been this summer I am considering making a visit over there though. It’s walking distance from my place and it’s free for DC residents!
Originally from Mumbai (Bombay), India, Raoul moved to the US about 15 years ago. His parents are diplomats and they were posted here in DC. He grew up speaking Hindi and five other local dialects in addition to English. I asked him how somebody learns five dialects! “You just sort of pick them up informally by talking with your friends” he shared. Now he also speaks some Spanish, French and Italian. It probably won’t come as any surprise to you that Raoul is well traveled and has visited 37 countries.
I love Indian food and never miss an opportunity to ask someone who I think might have a good tip about finding the ultimate in Indian cuisine. “I like the Bombay Club” he said about the Farragut North locale. I haven’t been there but will definitely check it out. He says that he really misses some of the simple street foods from India.
View of Connecticut Avenue crossing Rock Creek Park
Raoul says that he will give the $10 to somebody else or some organization. “Maybe I’ll give it to Bread for the City” he says. That’s odd…because I was planning to go to a Bread for the City event later that week. It’s a great organization that I will talk about later this week.
Since Raoul is working for a sustainable energy organization I thought I would ask if he had any advice for people on how they could do their part on conserving energy. He looked over at me and said “Turn the lights off and take the metro.” Sounds so simple but most of us could do better about reducing the electricity we use and taking public transportation.
I lived in Brazil for three years and absolutely loved the food. One of the most typical meals is feijoada, in fact it is considered the national dish and is eaten almost exclusively at lunch time on Wednesdays and Saturdays. In the US we don’t really have this custom of eating a certain dish every week on the same day, but it seems to work. Feijoada is a heavy stew consisting of black turtle beans, a variety of salted pork and beef products (such as ears, tails, tongue, feet, etc), bacon, pork ribs and a couple of types of smoked sausage. I know it sounds a little crazy, but it’s delicious!
You toss all of these ingredients in large clay pot and let it simmer for hours until you get this beautiful rich purplish-brown juice which coats your tongue like a velvety glass of Petit Verdot.
So my friend Carmen, who is from Brazil, was celebrating her birthday by having some people over for feijoada. While I was there I met a friend of hers named Elida who is from Carmen’s hometown of Campo Grande. Elida spent two days preparing this feast and it was delicious!
She came to the US on July 5th to attend her nephew’s wedding in New York and then came down to DC to visit with Carmen and other friends. She is planning to stay until August 13th.
Feijoada: Brazil's national dish
This is not her first time to the States though; in fact her husband was an American. Elida did something that I thought was really great too, she signed up for a mini English course that she is taking for three weeks.
Although now retired, Elida worked for many years for Banco Itau. That was my bank actually when I lived in Brazil. Now she dedicates her time to her family. She will soon be a grandmother! She told me that she was asking her son, “When am I going to have some grandchildren?” and the next day he came to her and said, “You’re going to be a grandmother!” The baby is due in April.
“I’m going to use the $10 to buy an outfit for the baby” she told me.
I tried to get some photos of her but she preferred not being photographed.
I asked her if there was anything she needed or wanted that somebody might be able to help her with. She thought and said that she didn’t really need anything but that her dream was to spend a day in Paris. “My husband promised me that we would go there, but we never did it.” Who knows… maybe one day that dream will come true.
Happy first day of August! Lots of friends celebrating birthdays today: Kim, Maureen, Laura, Murilo, Steve and others I am sure. Happy birthday!
My buddy Chris is the father of three kids. When his wife needed to go out of town for the weekend I got the call. “Hey man, would you like to go up to Long Beach Island, NJ to my mother-in-law’s beach house with me and the kids?” I agreed, but then something came up and the beach house was not available that weekend so I got a second call. “The beach house isn’t going to work out, but, listen, my wife is going to be out of town and I really could use your help with the kids.” So, we spent the weekend in the sprawling paradise of West Friendship, MD. We had a great time and I love his kids. I learned that I pretty much suck at the Wii. His five and seven-year-old destroyed me in almost every game, especially Super Mario Brothers. The only thing I could beat those guys at was ice skating and bowling! I know, I’m pretty pathetic.
Anyway, on Saturday we took them over to the pool. I didn’t think I was going to get that many opportunities to engage with other humans out in the metropolis of West Friendship, so I decided to see who I found cooling off by the pool that day.
After playing with Nick and Dylan for a while in the main pool, I headed over to check on Chris who was watching Avery in the baby pool. That’s where I found Linda.
Linda (photo: Reed)
Actually I walked up to her husband first. He was feeding one of their boys when I asked if he would participate. He skillfully pawned me off to his wife who was reading her kindle and listening to music as she sunbathed poolside. I felt kind of bad. Imagine being the mother of two and finally getting a few moments of absolute bliss where you were relaxed, reading your book, listening to some tunes…..ah, life is good. And then some weird guy wants to talk to you….yep, that’s me. It could have been worse though. My buddy Chris could have talked to them!
Anyway, so Linda is a thoracic surgeon. As the name implies, this is surgery related to the treatment of diseases affecting organs inside the thorax (the chest) such as the lungs, chest wall, and diaphragm. She pursued this area of specialty after participating in a surgery rotation during medical school. She really likes anatomy and the idea of fixing things. It also seems like one of the more manageable fields of work in surgery as most of the procedures are scheduled allowing the physician to have a somewhat normal work-life balance. Sometimes you hear crazy stories of doctors being summoned at all hours of the night on a regular basis. Or ER doctors who don’t sleep for 36 hours. Anyway, sometimes she gets woken up in the middle of the night too, but not as much as some others she tells me.
One time she got a call around 3am and was asked to come in to take a look at a stab wound victim. Although she really didn’t think that her expertise was necessary given the other medical staff that was on hand, she got out of bed and hurried in to the hospital to help the patient. As it turns out the man had several punctures in his organs. As they operated on him she discovered that he had a hole in his heart that ended up splitting open. Had this have happened before they got him on the operating table he would have died for sure she told me.
photo: Reed
I couldn’t suppress the urge to ask about a few other interesting cases that she has seen. Dr. Linda shared with me the story of a young woman who came to see her a few months ago with some severe problems not being able to keep food down. It turned out that the sphincter muscle between the esophagus and the stomach was too tight and she had to go in and cut it in such a way to release the tension. She had been battling this problem for a long time. In fact, when she was younger doctors thought she might be bulimic, but she was not.
Another case Dr. Linda told me about was an 89-year-old patient who went to their dentist for some dental work. Apparently the dentist dropped the tiny drill bit he was using and the patient swallowed it. The patient went home but started coughing all night long. He called his dentist and the dentist felt so bad that he went with the patient to the hospital in the middle of the night and she removed the drill bit which was lodged in the lung.
Dr. Linda told me that she and her husband, who happens to be a cardiologist, were going to have a rare date night that evening and were going to the movies. “I think we’ll use the $10 and treat ourselves to a popcorn and a drink tonight,” she told me. I’m not sure the $10 will cover that, movie theater food is one of the most overpriced items in our country.
I thanked them for letting me invade their quiet afternoon by the pool and went back to the chaos that awaited me with Chris’ kids.
The Clintons walk down Pennsylvania Avenue at the 1993 inauguration (photo courtesy of the Smithsonian Institute)
I left work and instead of walking home I thought that I would walk in the opposite direction and see if I could find a recipient of my daily ten-spot. As I walked down 25th Street I passed Trader Joe’s on my left and arrived at Pennsylvania Avenue. What a historic avenue! This 36 mile stretch of road (about five of which are in DC) is most known for the 1.2 mile section that connects the White House to the Capitol. I was standing about a mile west of the White House near where the avenue begins (or ends I guess) at the edge of Georgetown. That is where I saw Rigoberto.
I stopped Rigoberto on the sidewalk of Penn. Ave. as he left the bank on the way back to start his shift (photo: Reed)
Originally from Honduras, Rigoberto has been here for approximately ten years. He lives in the District and works as a cook at a restaurant on the iconic Pennsylvania Avenue. “Es una ciudad muy bonita,” he says as he talks fondly about Washington. Although he has patiently waited nine years for his green card to be approved, he dreams of one day returning to Honduras. “Toda mi familia está alla,” he tells me explaining that his wife and six children (ages 11-22) are there in a small town that is a two day bus trip west of the capital of Tegucigalpa. “It’s right on the border with El Salvador.”
He looked down at the ten-dollar bill in his hand and said that he was going to send it to his daughter who is a university student in Honduras. Every month he sends her $150. This time he will send her $160. It comes at a good time too. He told me that she had just asked if he could send her some additional money this month for some other expenses she incurred.
Rigoberto, who is legally here, has worked in the US for ten years in order to provide for his large family. Moving thousands of miles away to a strange city with a different language would not be a choice some people would be able to do. “This is how I support my family,” he tells me. In his hometown, rent for a nice home for a family of his size costs about $105. “And this includes someone to help with cooking the meals, cleaning the house and doing the laundry.” He would not be able to make the kind of salary he has here if he were to be working there.
Rigoberto (photo: Reed)
Rigoberto had just left the restaurant where he was working to run to the bank so I didn’t want to keep him too much longer. The last thing I would want is for him to get in trouble for not being at work. I told him that I would try to stop in some time and eat at the restaurant where he works. “Well, that’s up to you,” he says with a big smile. “It’s a pretty expensive place and I’m not that good of a cook!”
I have listed on the Lend a Hand page two items that Rigoberto needs. His refrigerator can not keep up with the heat and says that the freezer compartment does not work well enough to keep things frozen. He also needs a new stove.
I have received so many emails and comments from people around the world who say that they have tried to approach a complete stranger and give them $10 or do something nice for them, but fear got in the way. Our heart starts to pound, sweat forms on our forehead and we start to feel sick. Why? Because we’re afraid of rejection. We fear the words, “What? Listen, I don’t have time for this.” Sure, I get that response some time and it sucks. But every once in a while time almost stops as you look into the person’s eyes and you see them abandon those words and replace them with trust and an open mind. It’s beautiful and extremely powerful. Well, welcome to my world. Welcome to Day 213!
Although maybe a little reluctantly, Franko let me take his photo (photo: Reed)
This is exactly what happened when I met Franko on the corner of New Hampshire Avenue and N Street in Northwest DC. Franko is originally from New York and although he moved to DC 37 years ago, the stereotypical cold, gruff, I-don’t-have-time-for-you New Yorker in him comes out from time to time. But as noise from the surrounding traffic seemed to fade away and I looked him in the eye and answered his questions about my intentions, I had one of those moments. He gave me a chance. “This is a very rare thing for me to cooperate with a person like you,” he tells me. “I don’t do this! When I get a call from somebody trying to sell me something I hang up on’em.”
Franko doesn’t say no to me, but proceeds with extreme caution. Thankfully it was hot out and the perspiration that was coming over me could have easily been attributed to that. I started asking him questions and taking notes. I’m pretty sure he fired just as many questions right back at me though.
Slowly I managed to get a little bit of information out of the 62-year-old DC resident. I asked him for the first initial of his last name. “R” he tells me. He also told me that he is a photographer for one of the Smithsonian Museums. On this specific afternoon he was actually on his way home from a doctor’s appointment.
“I think we have a sort of defense mechanism that we put up in these kind of situations so that we don’t get screwed,” Franko says. I ask him why he decided to talk to me and he says, “There is something about you. You’ve got a good vibe!” By this time Franko had lowered his guard considerably. He let me take these photos of him. By the way I hate photographing photographers because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing! He also gave me his email so that we could stay in touch.
Early on he told me that he was going to use the $10 to fill the prescription that his physician gave him. But that was 30 minutes earlier. As we stood just a few feet away from where I met Clyde four days earlier, he tells me that he has changed his mind about what he was going to do with ten-spot. He didn’t know what he was going to do with it but he wasn’t going to use it to pay for his prescription.
Franko then took my pen and changed the “R” that I had written down after his first name to a “K.” “I’ve told you everything else, I might as well give you the right initial for my last name.” Just then the squeaking of brakes being applied interrupted our conversation and Franko says, “That’s my bus.” As we say goodbye, he gave my shoulder a pat and told me to come see him at the museum some time.
Working now creates some new challenges to keeping up with my commitment. On the plus side, I have some positive cash flow! On the negative side, my days have become much longer trying to keep this up while working.
Well long days and short nights of sleep are nothing new to today’s recipient. Meet Justin. I was leaving work and walking toward Dupont Circle when I ran into him as he was walking home from GW Hospital in his scrubs.
Justin is a 1st year resident in the department of radiology. Originally from northwest Indiana, he went to medical school about an hour away at Chicago’s Northwestern University. He recently finished his internship at a hospital in Akron, OH.
When I ran into him he had only been here a few weeks and when I asked how it was going he said, “So far it’s pretty good for me.” Pretty good attitude for a first year resident. He’ll spend the next four years here going through intensive training.
So how is residency life? “It’s ok, I mean there is just an overwhelming amount of stuff that you are required to learn,” Justin tells me. Although he said summer in DC was really hot, he likes the city. He was already familiar with the DC area before moving here. In fact he spent a summer doing research at NIH which he says definitely played a role in his choice to come here for his residency.
I wonder how you decide that you want to study radiology. Check out why Justin says he chose it.
Miraculously he finds some time to relax and enjoy life. When he is not soaking up endless quantities of knowledge at the hospital, he enjoys playing music. He started playing bass guitar a while back and would like to get a band together here in DC. For a guy who is new in town, he already has a guitarist and a keyboardist lined up. They need a drummer though. “We need a beginner/intermediate drummer who wants to play some rock music,” he tells me. My brother hasn’t played in a long time, maybe he wants to get back into it.
Justin right before he turned my $10 into dinner (photo: Reed)
So what does a first year radiology resident do with $10. Eat! That’s right he said that he was going to take the $10 straight to Potbelly’s to get some dinner. He kindly let me tag along as we hiked the 8 blocks over to the sandwich shop where he got his dinner.
Gwin was selling the Street Sense newspaper at the South edge of Dupont Circle in between 19th Street and Connecticut Avenue. I was walking through the circle when I spotted the bright yellow vest that identifies her as a Street Sense vendor.
Gwin has an interesting story. Originally from Salisbury, NC, she told me about the early days of her life when she lived near Elizabeth Dole’s home. I can’t remember now which, but either she or Mrs. Dole lived on Ellis Street, which was named for Governor Ellis who died in office in 1861.
She talks a little bit about her background and what she would like to do professionally on this video clip.
It’s hard to imagine that an educated person who goes to law school and becomes an attorney can end up homeless, but Gwin is proof of that. Although not homeless now, she says that she has been homeless in at least a half-dozen cities across the country. “Homelessness is many things,” she tells me. “There are good parts and bad parts to being homeless.” Among the good parts she lists: meeting people, celebrations with friends, traveling, seeing people help one another, and even special occasions like a holiday party she recalls that was put on for the homeless in Boston where they served steak and lobster. Of course she shares plenty of negatives too: moral despair, being looked down upon, realizing your dreams will not materialize, etc.
Gwin kept her same calm demeanor the entire time and seemed very comfortable talking about a variety of different subjects. We talked about all kinds of things; from the Obama administration to circular migration to the legalization of marijuana. She also mentioned that she was a poet and that I could find her works on the Internet. I have not been able to locate them yet, but when I do I will share them here. She enjoys writing a lot and would even like to write a book on homelessness some day.
Before I left I asked her about the $10 and she said that will be used to buy her some soap and a few other toiletries that she says she needs to get this week.
I asked her what dreams she still has for herself. “It’s too late to think about dreams. Now it’s retire, work part-time and be able to help others.” Maybe that is in fact her dream. I asked her where she wants to retire and she said either Chicago or some place further west. “I would like to find a place to live where I could get a part-time job and eventually collect a pension.”
Gwin (photo: Reed)
Before leaving I asked if I could take a few photos of her selling the paper. She made me laugh a little because she kept hiding behind the newspapers for most of them. She had been so comfortable with the camera when I took pictures of her sitting down and also used my video camera, but for some reason she got a little shy when she was working. I asked her if she could move the papers a little so that I could see her face and she nodded her head yes with a sheepish smile, but didn’t move them too much. I managed to get a couple of shots though.
For those in the downtown area, keep an eye out for Gwin, especially near the Dupont Circle SOUTH Metro entrance near the Krispy Kreme.
I started my new job on Day 210! It was my 285th day without work. It felt so good to get up early and go to “my job!” I know, most of you are vomiting right now hearing me say how happy I am to go to work on a Monday morning, but it was really true. So far, I have been really impressed with the WWF and the people that are a part of the organization.
Eric looks a lot like Abe Lincoln. Am I that short? Look at the angle of this photo (photo: Reed)
After work that day I headed over to meet an old colleague Derek at 18th and M Street. From there we headed over to 14K Lounge for our friend Jen’s birthday party. On our way over there we came face to face with our 16th president of the United States.
Ok, so it wasn’t really Abraham Lincoln, although he does bear a tremendous resemblance to the tallest American president. And he is about the same height. Derek is 6”4” and he looked a smidgen taller than Eric (without his hat).
Eric is a telecom engineer who has been out of work for a year. He was staging a personal protest of sorts that afternoon against the powerful K Street lobbyist firms. He is sickened by the amount of money that changes hands on this street in exchange for favorable consideration on governmental issues.
As a result of him being out of work for so long he became homeless in May. Since then he has managed by couch surfing and staying at shelters. If your firm is looking for an engineer experienced in XML, telephony and Linux, give Eric a chance.
He chose to save the money.
Derek and I said goodbye and headed to the birthday party. We didn’t mention to Eric that Derek technically is a lobbyist, but I hope that he wouldn’t dislike Derek just for that. Because in fact Derek has a PhD in genetics and works tirelessly to educate our lawmakers in the area of preventative medicine as it relates to obesity, personalized medicine and tobacco. Hey, somebody’s got to protect us from the tobacco lobby!
By the way, Eric does occasionally do some work as a Lincoln impersonator…I can connect you with him for that as well if you are interested.
At about 9:00 pm on Day 209 I saw Garrett playing his maraca and tambourine on the Southeast corner of Connecticut Avenue and Q Street in Northwest. I have some items that you guys have sent for him and I crossed the street to talk with him and see if he would be there a while so that I could go home and get the items and come back to deliver them to him. Just about the time I reached Garrett a man in a wheel chair rolled up and stuffed some folded dollar bills into Garrett’s can and went back to where he had been sitting before. As I chatted with Garrett I couldn’t help but notice that the other gentleman was missing both legs and was holding a box with the words, “Donate, help needed, disabled” written on it. I was completely distracted.
I walked over to him and introduced myself. He didn’t tell me his name right away, but I later discovered that it was Clyde. “I hate to admit it but often times I tell people that my name is Mike, but it’s really Clyde.”
Garrett said he had to go and I continued to talk to Clyde for more than two hours. During that time at least a half-dozen people stopped and gave Clyde some money. One person even gave him an apple. Another, a clergy member from St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, stopped and chatted with us for a while. He had spoken with Clyde before. As he left he dropped a five-dollar bill inside Clyde’s box.
Clyde is wearing a faded blue and white hat with Sandals Jamaica written on it and large black sunglasses. His left leg looks to be amputated above the knee and is fitted with a prosthetic leg accompanied by a shoe. His right leg appears to be amputated near his pelvic bone. He has on a checkered pair of pajama-like pants that cover most of his prosthetic and then rest limp on his right side. At some point during the evening I gathered the courage to ask Clyde what happened to his legs. “I lost them in accident. I got a metal plate in my arm as well,” he says pointing to his right arm.
I asked if I could photograph him but he preferred not to. I even asked if I could just photograph his box, but he wasn’t comfortable with that either. I respect that. You will just have to do with some photos of the area where we passed the hours talking that evening.
Clyde, who tells me that his friends call him “Camel” because of a Ray Steven’s song about a camel named Clyde, is in his late 50s. He doesn’t live in DC but travels here by bus every month for about a week. While he is here he sometimes goes down to Capitol Hill to voice his opinion on topics as well as spends a good amount time in the Dupont Circle area. He sits and greets people kindly as they walk by, “Don’t forget the homeless.” When the sun sets and the bar-goers start to thin out he wheels himself a short distance away on Q Street and sleeps upright in his chair. “I’m used to it, it doesn’t bother me,” Clyde assures me. “It’s safer than trying to stay in a shelter.”
I found Clyde sitting in his wheel chair at this spot (photo: Reed)
It would be impossible to give our two-hour conversation justice in a few paragraphs here. But I will try to leave you with an accurate summary about what I know about this private man. He is kind and gentle. He doesn’t drink or smoke. He is well-read and knowledgeable about many topics and patiently shares his knowledge with others (or at least me!) He believes in God. He helps others when he can, which is evidenced by him donating some of his own money to Garrett. He served in the US Coast Guard and has traveled all over the world. He is very critical of our government. He rivals my father as a conspiracy theorist. He only watches Fox News and wishes we had more honest journalists “like Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh.”
Clyde has a home, but his social security doesn’t make ends meet. Each month he falls about $250 short so he takes a bus to DC and spends about a week here in order to collect enough money to pay the bills. “I got so many bills I’ve been thinking about changing my name to Bill!” he says…it falls a little flat but I managed a smile. He later told me that he would put the $10 I gave him toward paying some of those bills.
In the winter he forgoes his monthly trip to Dupont Circle’s tree-lined diagonal streets, large19th century homes and row houses and endless embassies and takes a bus south every month to the warmer shores of South Beach, Miami where the colorful art deco buildings, palm trees and sandy beaches seem to wash away the winter blues.
Most of our conversation was somehow tied to politics and religion, two of the most delicate pieces of conversation I can think of. He shared a lot of his views and educated me on many topics.
It got to be close to 11:30 at night and I needed to head home. Afterall, I was starting my new job the next day! He said he would be back here next month. Same time (about the 8th of the month he arrives in DC and stays to about the 15th), same place (the corner of Connecticut and Q Street.) I look forward to stopping by and chatting with my new friend on his next visit.
This is a short entry. I only had a few minutes with the recipient, it was dark, and I could barely read my writing when I got around to writing up the blog entry.
It was just after midnight and I was walking home and walked passed the back side of Bistro du Coin, a good French Bistro in the Dupont Circle neighborhood of DC. The mussells are excellent! My favorite are La Traditionelle Mouclade des Charentes – steamed mussels with a light cream sauce and curry. (And I almost never order something with a cream sauce!)
Usually when I pass the back of this restaurant the sidewalk is wet from liquids leaking from their trash containers and I often see some pretty large rats dashing around looking for scraps from the tasty offerings served inside. occasionally I also run across the random employee smoking a cigarette or making a quick call on their cell phone.
On this night I passed Anna who was quietly enjoying a cigarette.
“I only smoke once in a blue moon,” she told me.
A panoramic view of Kazan Kremlin, Vernicle temple and Kazanka river right bank (photo: Wikipedia)
She told me she really needed to get back inside to attend to her customers, so I cut to the chase and asked her what she would do with the $10. “I’m going to buy ice cream for my daughter,” she told me. Right then another waitress, Flo, wandered outside and lit up. Anna explained to Flo that she had just received $10 from me. I explained that I was walking by and just thought I would give my $10 to Anna. Flo exhaled a lung-full of smoke and said something along the lines that Anna never took a smoke break. “I’m out here all the time and I don’t get $10. She comes out here one time and…”
Anna said goodbye and excused herself as she slipped in the back door. I awkwardly said goodbye to Flo as she stood smoking by herself on the damp sidewalk.
It seems like I am fighting an endless battle to get caught up on my blog posts. I have some video to show of Anthony getting more items that I need to get edited and share with you and I also have some items for Garrett. I saw him again today and agreed to meet him later to deliver the items but he wasn’t there when I returned. I’ll keep trying.
Other day I checked my wallet and I had seven dollars in it so I went to the ATM and retrieved $100. I then walked inside the bank and asked if I could get the twenty-dollar bills broken down into ten-dollar bills. I shared with Catherine the idea of the Year of Giving and she got so excited. “Ooh, I’d like somebody to give me $10!”
I left and headed home. I went back to the bank with my notebook and camera about three hours later to see if Catherine was still there. She was helping a customer and at first did not recognize me. “She can help you at the next window,” she said as I waited while she attended to her customer. I politely refused the help of the other teller explaining that I wanted to speak with Catherine. When my turn came, she looked at me and recognized me. She was so excited and ran around the other teller windows and came out on the left side to meet me. Her energy was contagious.
Catherine's smile is contagious. (photo: Reed)
I discovered that 27-year-old grew up in Ghana. Her native language is Fanti, but she speaks perfect English in addition to speaking French and a Ga, another native language of Ghana. Nine years ago she moved to Akron, Ohio to pursue a degree in Political Science. Then in January she moved to DC to try to further her career; however it’s not been easy. “I can’t find anything related to my career,” she told me. She ended up accepting a job at the bank in order to pay her bills. Her $1,000+ monthly rent is grossly more expensive than the $320 she paid for her place in Akron.
Given her short time in DC and economic situation right now she says that she hasn’t gotten out much and has yet to meet a lot of new friends. Thankfully she loves her coworkers at the bank. “They’re great!”
photo: Reed
She hopes to find a job in international development and possibly work with Africa. At some point she says she hopes to return to Ghana. “My dream is to run a HIV/AIDS awareness organization back in Ghana.” I know that many readers of the Year of Giving are involved in that area of work and I hope they might be able to help Catherine. Drop me a note and I will connect you with Catherine.
As someone who works with money all day long, I was quite interested to know what she was going to do with the $10 I gave her. “I’m going to put it toward gas,” she says. It sounds like she could definitely use a little extra money too; she estimates that she has racked up more than $450 in parking and speeding tickets since moving here earlier this year. Hmmm. I might suggest the Metro as an alternative to get her to and from work!
DC Trader Joe's at 1101 25th Street, NW (photo: Reed)
Joe has been working for Trader Joe’s for six years. He started in Michigan and was then transferred to Rockville before finally accepting a move to the downtown Washington, DC location. “I do all the signage you see around here,” he explains. I did a bit of a panoramic scan of the store and realized that every sign whether it be for apples or for frozen entres of chicken masala.
A former NYC resident, Joe started out as a graphic designer. When he moved to Michigan he realized that he could apply his background as a graphic designer to be an in-store artist for the privately held Californian grocer. It was odd to call them Californian, because you feel like you are in your neighborhood store. Maybe it’s the hand written signs or the goofy Hawaiian shirts. By the way, I am all for fun shirts, but I think it might be time to change the shirts. Or maybe it’s just how everyone seems happy there!
When the 36-year-old artist isn’t working, he enjoys biking, painting, and sports. He was following the World Cup when we met and was pulling for the Netherlands after his favorite team, Italy, was disqualified.
Taken at a Trader Joe's in San Luis Obispo, CA. (photo Shawn Thorpe)
“I’ll probably give the $10 to a homeless person. I see some regularly not too far from here,” he says. “Or maybe I will give it to the guy who sells the homeless newspaper (Street Sense) in front of the store.” I didn’t see anyone outside the day I was there.
I wanted to take a photo of Joe or some of his art work but he preferred not to be photographed and advised me of their policy that forbids photographs to be taken inside the store. I always try to respect people’s privacy.
By the way, if you are wondering if Joe is the “Trader Joe.” He’s not…that would be the founder Joe Coulombe who turns 80 this year. Coincidentally he says that his wife worked for a company that had the same name as her first name….I don’t remember exactly, but it was like her name was Anne and she worked for Anne Klein.
Borders at 18th and L Streets in NW Washington, DC (photo: Reed)
I am back in DC. I went to Borders Book Store to pick up a gift for some friends who are moving back to Finland. As I wandered around the store I found Madison searching through the non-fiction books.
I was surprised to find out that Madison was only 14. She looked a little older and is very mature. She lives in Virginia and is starting the 10th grade this fall.
I asked her what kind of book she was looking for and she said that she was looking for a biography on Marilyn Monroe. “She fascinates me; her whole attitude toward life.” She perused the many books they had on the pop icon but I don’t think she ended up finding the one she wanted. Or she just ran out of time since she ended up chatting with me for a while.
Madison seems like a very good student. She is enrolled in an intensive Geometry course this summer so that she can skip it next year and move right into Algebra II. Geometry though has not been easy for her. She said she preferred Algebra over Geometry. I was just the opposite. I did really well in Geometry but nearly failed Algebra II. She says that History is her favorite subject. I would have to agree, it was one of my favorites too.
When she is not at school or studying, Madison likes to play volleyball and participate in her student government and school clubs. She seems to like the private school that she attends.
Our conversation makes its way back to the $10. “What do you think you might do with it?” She thought about the question and said that she would probably buy lunch for herself the following day at school. “During the summer the school cafeteria is not open,” she explains so she has to get lunch on her own.
photo: Reed
About this time I think I asked her if she was originally from DC and she said that she was but that she had moved and then came back at some point because of her dad’s job. “What’s your dad do?” I asked. I would have never expected the response. “He used to play in the NFL,” she replies in a very humble tone. I inquired who her father was. I won’t mention his name here, but he was a first round draft pick that went on to play eight seasons of professional football. For someone who grew up the daughter of such a well-known public figure she seems incredibly grounded and genuine.
Speaking of her dad she looked at the time and said, “I actually have to go meet him now.” I finished up my questions and we said goodbye. She opted not to have her photo included, which I totally understand for various reasons.
What a smart young lady. I was really impressed with her. Just how she carried herself and the intelligent questions she asked. We as society can sleep well at night knowing that it’s people like Madison that will become tomorrow’s leaders.
When you look at today’s blog entry you might think, “Reed made a mistake. Lourdes was the name of the recipient from yesterday’s blog.” Well, would you believe that the very next day I found another woman named Lourdes in Roanoke, VA.
IHOP, Roanoke, VA (photo: Reed)
I was traveling to Roanoke to attend the funeral of a family friend. My father and I stayed at the Quality Inn near the Tanglewood Mall in the southwest part of town. I saw an IHOP (3926 Franklin Rd SW, Roanoke, VA 24014) around the corner from the motel and suggested that we go there for breakfast.
Our waitress came over to our table and I saw the name Lourdes written on her name tag. I told my dad that Lourdes was the name of the woman who I gave my $10 to the day before. It was almost as if it was some kind of sign to choose her. She came back with our breakfast and I asked her to take part in the Year of Giving. She accepted.
Lourdes (photo: Reed)
I asked the 34-year-old single mother of two where she was from originally. “I was an army brat!” she said sporting a big smile. Her father was in the US Army and they moved all around the world. Her favorite place she says is Panama. Her travel has slowed down though now and she says that she has lived in Roanoke for about 15 years.
Lourdes was pretty busy and I was trying not to take up too much of her time. She went to go check on her other customers and came back by a few minutes later. She has worked at this IHOP for about a year. “It’s a great place to work,” she says and comments how friendly her coworkers are.
Lourdes told me that she was going to use the $10 to take her five-year-old daughter and two-year-old son to the pool later that day. I bet the kids enjoyed that, it has been so hot.
If you stop in for breakfast, I highly recommend the spinach, mushroom and tomato omelette (I got it without the Swiss cheese) I was unsure what to get and Lourdes recommended that to me and I thought it was really good.
We closed out our check and went back to the motel to check out and make our way over to the funeral service.
Today’s blog entry is dedicated to the memory of Jean Ruth Hughes Bain, 1934-2010.
After three days of helping my friend Tom remodel his bathroom, we are not near as far along as we would had hoped. We did get the bathroom completely gutted. The only things left were pipes, wires and 2x4s. The hardest part was getting the 330 pound cast iron tub out. We then got all the pipes moved, all the items purchased that we needed, and the new tub installed and about half of the Hardiebacker cement board installed. Needless to say there is a lot left and I am going to try to get back out there to help him. The idea was to have it finished and surprise his wife when she returned on Tuesday from visiting her family in Pennsylvania. Well, she was definitely surprised.
I left his place around 7pm and started driving the 240 miles to Roanoke, VA to attend the funeral of a friend of the family.
The Sub Station & Ricos Tacos (photo: Reed)
As I was driving south down interstate 81 I drove by Harrisonburg, VA. My father and I had stopped in this town back in March and I met Robin on Day 96. Well once again I felt the calling to stop in Harrisonburg, but this time I ended up off exit 243 and found the typical selection of fast food joints. Then I spotted the Sub Station & Tacos Ricos. I made a u-turn and drove back and pulled in the parking lot. It was about 9pm when I sat down at the counter and Lourdes pushed a menu in front of me.
Lourdes (photo: Reed)
The restaurant looks a little more like an American diner than a Mexican taqueria. But don’t let that fool you, the food here is authentic Mexican cuisine. The owners, husband and wife team Jose and Lourdes, work behind the counter. They both take time to talk to their customers.
I was in the mood for tacos and asked Lourdes which ones she recommended. She guided me toward the carne asada tacos for $6.19, so that is what I ordered. The soft corn tortillas were warmed right on the grill next to the steak filet that was being prepared for me. I see that she pours a little bit of what looks to be oil on the tortillas, maybe that is a secret to the delicious taste of the tortillas. On top of the steak and tortilla Lourdes sprinkled a bit of fresh cilantro and onion on each taco. She added a side of salsa and two lime wedges and set the plate in front of me. This is the way I remember the tacos being served when I lived in Sinaloa, Mexico. Just simple tacos with high quality fresh ingredients served with limes. I squeezed the lime over the tacos and sprinkled a pinch of salt on them and started to eat. They were delicious.
Lourdes puts a little butter on the tortillas (photo: Reed)
While I was enjoying my tacos I found myself wondering what the story was behind the restaurant and my two hosts. When Lourdes came back to ask me how my tacos were I took the opportunity to tell her about my project and before I knew it I had recipient number 203!
Dad and I donated money to this donation box that was on the counter to help a family return the remains of a young man killed in an auto accident earlier that month. (photo: Reed)
Originally from Puebla, Mexico, Lourdes moved here 10 years ago. About two years after she moved to Harrisonburg, she married José who hails from Veracruz I think. Both had worked in a variety of fields, including the restaurant business. Last year Lourdes was working at a restaurant and José was working in construction when they decided to launch their own restaurant which opened five months ago. “It has always been Jose’s dream.” I asked her how it was going and she said it was going ok. It’s hard when you are just starting up. “There’s a lot more stress when the restaurant is your own,” she tells me. “After a slow night you sometimes find yourself thinking about how you are going to make up for the money that you didn’t earn that night.”
Tacos de carne asada (photo: Reed)
I think they will do very well. I can only personally vouch for the carne asada tacos, but they were very good. Lourdes also highly recommended the carne asada torta, which is a Mexican beef sandwich. I encourage everyone who is traveling up or down interstate 81 to stop in and sample the food. They are just off exit 243. Tell them Reed sent you!
Lourdes told me she was going to use the $10 to pay down some of her credit card debt. Glad that I could help.
My dad enjoying his tacos (photo: Reed)
The next day on the way home my father and I stopped in so that I could introduce him to my new favorite spot. He ordered a plate of tacos and another fan was born!
The Sub Station & Ricos Tacos 3257 South Main StreetHarrisonburg, VA 22801
As you remember from yesterday’s post, I was out in Manassas helping my friend Tom remodel his bathroom. We took several trips to home improvement stores. On Day 201 we went to Lowe’s, where I met George. Well, on Day 202 we went to the Home Depot in Manassas and I met John.
He was behind the counter dressed in a striped shirt, a black Home Depot hat that covered a bandana on his head and a the standard issue orange apron. Across the front of his apron the name John was written in black permanent marker.
Prior to coming to Home Depot five years ago he and his wife worked on horse farms down in Georgia. He seems to like his job but I get the sense that work has taken over his life. “Sometimes I feel like I just come to work, go home, eat dinner, go to sleep, get up and come back here and do it all over again,” he says. And I bet you could pretty much work every day at a place that only closes on Thanksgiving and Christmas.
John is the type of guy I need to find when I go to Home Depot. He grew up helping his father with projects and doing mechanic work since he was eight so he has good experience with home projects and is comfortable working with tools, etc. I am getting better, but let’s just say that I have a long way to go.
Some of John's 140 tattoos. (photo: Reed)
His short sleeves reveal two fully tattooed arms. “I started getting tattoos in 1992. I’ve got 140 total.” I learned that he hasn’t gotten any tattoos though in about ten years. So 140 tattoos in eight years comes out to be one about every three weeks. Wow…that’s intense! So how much would that cost? John estimates that he has invested between $6-10,000 in body art over the years. “I’ll probably still get another one some day,” he admits. He says the most painful one was a tattoo that he got on his left inner thigh. I took a look at his arms. Many of them depict Native American scenes inspired by his Sioux Indian heritage.
He shared with me that when he started at Home Depot that the big question was if he was going to have to wear long sleeve shirts in order to cover his tattoos. “After about a week they decided that it was OK because there was nothing offensive about the tattoos and they couldn’t really discriminate against me just because I had tattoos.” Reminds me a little of when I was in high school I got a job a clothing store at the mall called Chess King. Bill the manager asked me in the interview if there was anything that might prohibit me from performing the job. “Well, I am color-blind,” I told him. Bill looked pretty dumbfounded and said that he wasn’t sure they could hire me because of that. But they did. Apparently they were a little concerned about potential discrimination claims. I did ok there. Everything goes with jeans!
John (photo: Reed)
I looked down at the $10 and asked him what he planned on doing with it. He thought about it for a little bit and decided to deposit it into his money market account. He is saving money to hopefully retire in 15 years at 65.
John and his wife live with his 83-year-old father whose activities have been significantly curtailed after he suffered a broken hip. He says that in the next month or two the doctors will determine if they can fix his father’s hip. He paused as he told me this next part and his eyes went to the ground and then back up to me. If they are unable to fix his father’s hip John will have to stop working in order to stay home and take care of his father. “That’s OK, we’ll figure something out. My dad raised me and I owe it to him to take care of him. He did it for me.”
I gave $10 every day for a year. Would you make a $10 donation (that's less than 3 cents a day!) today to help those in need that I have met through the Year of Giving. You will get updates on how your donation is used.
He eventually got them to give him $1,600 and a ticket to Washington, DC where he even got to meet with then Mayor Marion Barry before Barry went to prison in 1991.
Today’s recipients are third year medical students at George Washington University Medical School. It seems that I have had a lot of recipients in the medical field over the last couple weeks. 
Sometimes I get almost to the end of the day and still haven’t given away my $10. The biggest challenge when this happens is that being dark outside creates another element to the task. At least here in the city, people’s defense mechanisms are heightened at night. We are much more leery of someone who approaches us at night, so sometimes I end up going to business establishments that are lit up where people have a greater sense of security, albeit perhaps a false one. 
Originally from Mumbai (Bombay), India, Raoul moved to the US about 15 years ago. His parents are diplomats and they were posted here in DC. He grew up speaking Hindi and five other local dialects in addition to English. I asked him how somebody learns five dialects! “You just sort of pick them up informally by talking with your friends” he shared. Now he also speaks some Spanish, French and Italian. It probably won’t come as any surprise to you that Raoul is well traveled and has visited 37 countries.
Anyway, on Saturday we took them over to the pool. I didn’t think I was going to get that many opportunities to engage with other humans out in the metropolis of West Friendship, so I decided to see who I found cooling off by the pool that day.
Dr. Linda told me that she and her husband, who happens to be a cardiologist, were going to have a rare date night that evening and were going to the movies. “I think we’ll use the $10 and treat ourselves to a popcorn and a drink tonight,” she told me. I’m not sure the $10 will cover that, movie theater food is one of the most overpriced items in our country. 
Other day I checked my wallet and I had seven dollars in it so I went to the ATM and retrieved $100. I then walked inside the bank and asked if I could get the twenty-dollar bills broken down into ten-dollar bills. I shared with Catherine the idea of the Year of Giving and she got so excited. “Ooh, I’d like somebody to give me $10!”
Year of Giving 