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Posts Tagged ‘life’

I met a friend for lunch over near Union Station and then decided to walk back home. It’s about 30 blocks so I knew I would find somebody! I stopped by So Others Might Eat (SOME) and picked up some information and then kept on snaking my way over to Dupont Circle. I came across a nice guy who was originally from Mexico out walking a couple of dogs. He took my card but said he preferred that I find someone else…so on I went.

 

Tent City DC at Parcel 42 (photo: Reed)

I decided to stop by Tent City DC.  When I arrived at the abandoned lot at 7th and R Streets I didn’t find anyone there.  I walked around, yelled “hello, anybody home” but no voices came from any of the tents. Just then two young girls yelled over to me from outside the fenced in area where I was standing. “Hey, why are you guys staying in these tents?” I walked over and explained to them that I was not one of the people staying in the tents, but that they were protesting the fact that Parcel 42 was being earmarked for development into luxury condos instead of affordable housing like what was promised by the mayor’s office a few years ago.

I told them about my project and asked if I could give them my $10 for the day.

Shaquan and Cierra next to Tent City DC in the Shaw neighborhood (photo: Reed)

 Cierra is 17 and Shaquan is almost 16.  They are high school students who are working this summer at a youth camp.  They are also two of the 463,000 children living in foster care in the US.

Shaquan has been in the system since she was three and has been in and out of group homes and families all of her life. “The system has got a lot of problems,” Shaquan says. “Every time you go to a new place you got to go through the whole screening process again.” Cierra has only been in foster care for about five years but even in that relatively short amount of time she has been shuffled between 6-8 families. Right now they are both living with Cierra’s sister for the summer, but soon they will go back to a foster family or group house.

They say that some foster families are only in it for the money. “They get a lot of money from the government and we don’t see any of it,” according to Shaquan. I played devil’s advocate a little and reminded them that the families also have a lot of costs that they may not see directly. The agreed that that was probably true, but they still felt like there were some inequities there.

I was deeply sadden as I talked to these smart, articulate young women. They have been forced to grow up much faster than others. They have felt unloved and unwanted at times and suffered through the pain that accompanies those emotions. “It’s hard,” Shaquan starts to say, “I used to blame other people for my actions, but I can’t blame nobody but myself. You got to keep your head up!” She went on to say that she was adopted by a family years ago and she “messed it all up.” She was referring to a woman named Ms. Theresa. I learned that in addition to adopting Shaquan, Ms. Theresa had also opened her home to Cierra. “Man, I wish I was back there now. I didn’t know how good I had it, but I messed up again,” Shaquan says.

I asked them what they were going to do with the $5 that each of them had in their hand. “Probably give it to someone else,” they said. “If I see a homeless person and I got money in my pocket, I give something,” Shaquan says.

photo: Reed

This was one of those days that I couldn’t stop thinking about the people who I had met for a long time after the goodbyes. Both of these girls have so much to offer the world. They are smart. They are charismatic. They are strong yet sensitive and thoughtful at the same time. They are beautiful young women who have not had the easiest path to get to where they are today and admitted to having made some poor choices themselves. What impressed me most was their attitude. They could have said “poor me, why me?” But they didn’t. They accepted responsibility for their actions and their lives and were living in the present making the best out of the cards that they have been dealt.  Keep your head up!

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Some of you might have heard that at the Worldwide Day of Giving celebration here in DC I did an impromptu fundraising effort to start raising money for those who have lost their jobs as a result of the BP oil spill.  We raised $150.  That is money that came straight from the pockets of those attending.  Given that it was last-minute and the venue chose not to offer any type of matching or incentives for donating, we fell short of what I would have liked to raise. 

Although BP will pay lots of claims, there are lots of expenses and lost opportunities for Gulf residents that will never be repaid.  Or won’t be repaid soon enough.  I am empowering some amazing members of the Gulf community to distribute the money we raise to those who have been affected by the disaster.  These amazing volunteers will then share the stories of people that they meet and help – very much in the same spirit as I have done my daily giving.  Trust me I know, even $10 can make a difference.  If you would like to help, click on the DONATE button to the right.   

There is an interesting article in today’s Washington Post about grass-roots efforts to help those who have been affected by the oil spill.

Day 179 was interesting.  I went to a little lunch place near my old office that I used to frequent, House of Kabob (1829 M Street, NW).  This place gets mixed reviews.  Yes it’s a bit dirty.  Yes it looks a little sketchy.  And Yes the food is always tasty and the staff are incredibly friendly.  Anyway, I noticed a man who was just raving about how much he liked the food there.  He made a few comments to me and I kind of shook my head in agreement.  I took my spice rubbed chicken, chickpeas, and rice over to a table to enjoy while reading the paper.  He took his order to go.

After my stomach was fully satisfied, I headed east on M Street and arrived at a tiny park where I saw the same gentleman that was raving about the food.  He asked me how my lunch was.  Not having anywhere to be, I stopped and spoke with him.  Meet Chandler.

Chandler is taller than me…which is not too tough, I am only 5’9”.  He was wearing a red polo shirt buttoned all the way to the top, greyish green slacks, and black wingtips.  I am not sure how old Chandler is.  I asked him and he told me 47 and then said 67 and smiled and said why don’t you just guess.

Photo: Reed

I am intrigued with this man and decide to offer him my $10 when he asks me what I do.  We escaped the sun’s relentless rays and sat under a small tree.  We ended up speaking about some really deep topics.  “Some people question what I am here to do.  What am I called to do?” he said.  He went on to say, “It is pertinent for man to understand why we are here.”  

At some point he flips the focus from him to me and the Year of Giving and asks what my purpose is.  I gave him an answer, but he seemed unsatisfied with my answer.  Then he got really serious and moved within inches of my face and said,

I am going to tell you something and I want you to listen really well.  If you only listen to one thing that I tell you, listen to this.  You need to sit down and write your personal vision statement.  You need to be completely honest with yourself and write out who you are and who you want to be.  What your values are.  What are your motivations?  And don’t lie, even if you never let anyone else see it you need to be honest with yourself with this.”

He asked me to ponder what my highest actions and/or characteristics are.  Is it love, God, trust, success, honor?  Whatever it is, I should write it all down.  I think this is a very important exercise and I will do this.  It reminds me of a conversation I had on Monday with a friend who I encouraged to write a business plan for his organization.  It just helps to get it down on paper and commit to it.  

Chandler needed to leave.  I am not sure what he did, but it was something in the legal field.  We exchanged telephone numbers and email addresses and agreed to continue talking when he had more time.   As for the $10, he said he was going to invest in gold.

He left me with one other phrase that I really liked.  “May the highest in you meet the highest in me.”  He meant that we should be the very best and treat others the very best way we know how.  I like that idea.

I took some photos of Chandler and then said good-bye.  He turned back toward me as we walked away and said “to be continued.”  

I have reached out a couple of times via email but have not heard back from him.  I have his telephone number and will have to try to set up time for us to speak further.

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