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Posts Tagged ‘day labor’

Day 33 – Mundo

Posted in Gave the money to someone else, tagged , , , , , , , , on February 4, 2011| 4 Comments »

-Blog post by Mary J., a Kindness Investor from Houston, TX

For over a year now,  I’ve often seen a gentleman with the lower right half of his leg missing asking for money, sitting on a triangular-shaped esplanade on a side street just off the freeway.  I’ve waved to him and said hello, but never have gift cards on me to give him.  I decided after I became a Kindness Investor, he would be one of my investments, but I haven’t seen him all week.

Today I got in the car – Jack in the passenger seat – and went to find him.  I had little hope, since it’s raining outside, but I had to give it another shot.

I have mixed feelings about giving handouts to people on the street.  They’re obviously in need of help on several levels, and I’m more than willing to help them out with food. In memory of my father, I give street people gift cards to nearby restaurants, so I know they’re getting one or two good meals and the money isn’t going to alcohol or drugs (if they don’t sell the cards).  But do our donations really help them?  Do the gift cards and loose change keep them on the street, hoping for more, instead of seeking permanent shelter and medical assistance?  I don’t want to be an enabler on any level.  Anyway…

As I turned off the feeder, the triangular esplanade was, once again, empty.  I felt relieved that the gentleman wasn’t sitting out there in the rain.  I parked in Starbuck’s parking lot to see if he was seeking shade somewhere in the little shopping strip, when I spotted three men huddled close together under an overhang in front of one of the shops.  My guy wasn’t among them, but I felt drawn to them nonetheless.

“What do you think, Jack, will one of these guys be my next investment?” Jack looked at me, licked his lips and gave me a big, happy, toothy grin, so I took that as a sign to “man up” and go meet them.  Please note that I never would have approached strangers in such a situation otherwise, but Jack is an excellent guard dog and his size generally keeps people at a distance anyway.

I drove up to where the three were standing, rolled down my window and asked if one of them was interested in helping me with a kindness project for $10.  They looked at each other and laughed, two of them pointing to one, pushing him towards the car.  They were speaking too quickly in Spanish for me to follow, but were apparently encouraging the third to talk to me.

The elected member walked towards me, looking around; more wary of me than I was of them.  “Yes, ma’am? You have a project?” he asked with a strong Spanish accent.

“Do you speak English?” I asked.  “Yes, ma’am.  Very good English,” he replied.

In a combination of Spanish and English, I told him about the Year of Giving project, my unemployment and my week as a Kindness Investor.   “Do you want this $10 bill as my kindness investment for today?”

He looked a little skeptical, turned to see where his companions were, then back to me.  “And what you want for this?”

“Tell me about yourself – whatever you want, where you’re from, about your family, the kind of work you do, what brought you here today.  How will you spend the $10 – will you save it, give it to someone, buy something?”  And, finally, “Do you have a wish you want someone to help you with?  Esta bien?”

“Si, si,” he nodded his head in agreement as I handed him my card with the $10 bill tied to it.  He briefly scanned the card and put it in his pocket.  I asked if he’d like to go to Starbuck’s to sit down and he said no, that he didn’t want to miss “the truck.”

He said his name is Edmund; “Mundo”, for short, and he is 20 years old.  He was at the strip center with his brother and cousin waiting for a truck to pick them up for a job.  I asked if he had other family here and he said his parents, brothers and sisters are in Nuevo Leon, Mexico.  “No wife, no children?” I asked.  “No,” he laughed.  “Too young.”   There is a girl in Mexico he likes, “but she doesn’t know it yet,” he added.  “Maybe one day I will take her on a date.”  In the meantime, he spends most of his days finding work with his brother and cousin, watching TV and practicing his English.  He goes to church if he’s not working, calls home often and misses his family very much.

Mundo said he will probably send then $10 to his family in Mexico.  He doesn’t have a computer, but knows someone who will help him look up the Year of Giving website, so he can see his story.  His greatest wish is to make enough money to take care of his family, and for prayers to keep the jobs coming.

About that time, someone in a white truck pulled up and honked the horn.  “Must go now. Thank you for your kindness loan,” he said smiling, as he waved his compadres over and sprinted towards the truck.

I didn’t ask if the three of them are in the US illegally, but I suspect they are.  Mundo did not want me to take his picture, so I just took one of the shopping center where they had been standing.  He told me he doesn’t have contact information and didn’t want to give me his address, but offered that he lives in an apartment in the area, “with others from Mexico.”

Mundo, if you get a chance to see this, I am praying for you and your family. I am very proud of you for learning English, which you speak and understand muy bien.  And I hope you decide to use the $10 for a date with the beautiful senorita back home, soon. If you are here illegally, I encourage you to return home and go through the immigration process to live and work in the US legally, just as my great-great-grandparents from Germany and Czechoslovakia did two centuries ago, and as my husband’s parents from the Netherlands Antilles did 52 years ago.  Secure borders are critical for our nation’s safety and I would hate to see you hurt or worse crossing the border illegally.

Que tengas buena suerte, mi amigo!  Good luck, my friend. Be safe.

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Day 24 – Ron

Posted in Alcohol, Food & Beverage, Laundry, tagged , , , , , , , , on January 8, 2010| 3 Comments »

This one is a long one… go get yourself a cup of tea.   

I met up with some former work colleagues today.  It’s great to reconnect and hear how things are going for them.  On my way home, I came across a heavily bearded gentlemen sporting a hiking style backpack.   

Ron, a 40-year-old California native, says he has been in DC for almost 3 months.  He had hitchhiked his way from Phoenix to DC and hopes to continue on to Massachusetts after brunt of winter passes.   

After a long period of not finding work he found himself on the streets two years ago.  Ron says he is a good skilled laborer and has experience operating various types of equipment.   

Ron holds his $10 citation for possession of an open container of alcohol in public

 

We stood talking in the sub-zero temperatures for nearly 40 minutes.  Ron is easy to talk to and opens up to me very quickly.  He said it’s harder to get work as he gets older.  I told him that 40 wasn’t that old.  He shifted his weight from one side to the other and paused a little before speaking.  “I always want to know, how old do you really want to be? I don’t think I really want to be past 60.  A lot of people say they do, I just don’t.”  This was so sad to hear.  I found myself wishing I had some background in psychology and started to ask him some questions about his upbringing.      

At the age of three, Ron’s natural parents, whose names he does not know, gave him up.  He bounced around five different foster homes throughout his younger years. He does not have a solid relationship with his last foster family.  He even says that he doesn’t truly have a legal last name that he knows of.  He uses the last name of his last foster family; however, he was never legally adopted by them.   

There is a lot of pain deep inside him some place.  I decide to change the subject.   

In DC he supports himself by performing day labor and panhandling.  He usually goes to the Home Depot off Rhode Island Ave. and hopes to get picked up by work crews.  On days he panhandles he brings in about $30 per day.  “DC is tough,” he tells me as he mentions cities where one can receive a lot more money panhandling.  Salt Lake City and Las Vegas are much better according to Ron.  He says that a $100 day is not uncommon in Las Vegas, although he explains that panhandling on the strip is prohibited.   

Although Ron is living on the streets, he is a part owner of a house in California.  He and some of his foster brothers went in together on a house years ago, however, right now given the housing market lull, he doesn’t believe he will see any of that money for some years.  Although he doesn’t have a roof over his head, Ron is not bitter about his situation.  He points out that he often sleeps very comfortably in a little covered area just off of Dupont Circle.  As he describes the place, I realize he is describing the place where I found Ayalew.  I start to describe him to Ron and he immediately confirms that it is my friend from Day 20.   

So what is Ron going to do with my $10?  “I’ll probably get a little bit of food and maybe do some laundry,” he replies.  Then he changes his mind as he recalls that it is supposed to snow later in the evening.  He avoids laundry before snow/rain storms that end up getting him wet and dirty.  He then says, he might spend part of it on some alcohol.   

Despite Ron being extremely lucid, there was the distinct scent of alcohol on his breath.  He admits that he has an alcohol addiction and says that he was drinking earlier in the day.  In fact, he goes on to share that his drinking that afternoon resulted in him receiving a citation for having an open container of alcohol in public.  He unfolds the citation and shares it with me.  Would you believe how much the fine was for?  $10!  I said, “Hey, now you have money to pay the fine.”  He smiles and says that he fully intends on paying the fine because if he fails to do so and gets a subsequent ticket he potentially could be arrested.   

His entire encounter with the police department was quite interesting.  They asked him for ID and he showed them his DC ID card.  He showed me as well.  On the ID is a clean-shaven version of Ron.  His address is listed at 309 E Street.  “Is that where you live?” I asked.  He explained it was a Day Center where he sometimes goes.  “What should I put on the card?” he fired back.  “Bench next to Fountain, Dupont Circle, Washington, DC?”  He went on to explain that the confrontation with the police department went on for more than an hour.  Two additional units were called in for back-up since they could not find his name in the system.  He offered to leave the area many times, but they insisted on giving him a ticket.  He felt that this was unfair based on the fact that on New Year’s Eve he said there were some youths that were setting off illegal fireworks at Dupont Circle and the police came and didn’t even write them a citation.  “I wasn’t doing anyone any harm, those fireworks could have actually hurt someone.”   

Ron had been very generous with his time and I felt that I should let him get on his way.  I had one last question for him.  “What would you like the general public to know about people who are in your situation?”  He thought for a while and said that he hoped that people would understand that many people get to be homeless.  Many more, he goes on to say, are 1-2 pay checks away from being homeless.  As I was getting ready to leave he reminded me of the Day Center at 309 E Street where he says I will see first hand some of the struggles people are having.  “Take a body-guard though, it’s pretty rough there.”  Hmmm, I will have to think about that.  He also mentions  that he goes to Miriam’s Kitchen, an organization that offers homemade meals and high-quality support services to more than 4,000 homeless men and women each year.  I checked them out and they seem to be a good operation.  I asked him if he had ever received meals from S.O.M.E.?  He said he had in the past.  I brought it up because I have volunteered there and also started a corporate social responsibility program for a former employer that involved donating our time at S.O.M.E.   

I put my notebook away and asked if I could take a picture of Ron.  He said sure, and I got a picture of him holing his $10 police citation!  I couldn’t hold back my grin from the serendipitous timing of me giving him $10.

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