Staying Sane

When we originally brainstormed the topics for the retreat, the volunteers were asked what they wanted to learn about homelessness, and the youth were asked what they thought we needed to know. I was not surprised that the topic of basic needs emerged from often mentioned topics like food, showers, clothing, etc. I hadn't expected all the youth to suggest that we talk about staying sane. Gabe volunteered to be our presenter.

Gabe has been through a lot of crap. Despite it all, he is quite well adjusted.



Gabe's key points:

• Stay out of the sun, lest ye become sunbaked crazy.
• Entertain yourself. Even if it means talking to yourself.
• Stay engaged in what you are doing and aware of your surroundings.
• Get friends, and stay in touch with them.
• Stay off drugs.

Networking

After our visit to CASS and Andre House, we travel to our final location. Here we unpack and create a sitting area with our blankets. I had intended to keep the location's proximity to the Youth House secret to prevent people taking a bunch of trips there, as it was about half a block away down an alley. Alas, John could not be fooled. He's visited the house 200 times in a year and coordinated extensive repairs.

After settling in, we went on to our third talk of the day: Networking. John had been chosen to give the presentation. His networking skills have transformed the house from a disaster to an inviting home. He also has an admirably professional attitude that when taken with his creative initiative means he gets stuff done.

Unfortunately, the lighting was very poor for John's talk, so again we must rely on notes.

John defines a network as a social structure with common interests. Networking is developing and utilizing this structure. He insisted that we think of ourselves as people with something to offer and that we should strive for two-sided compromise.

Practically, start small. Tell your story. John also emphasized the importance of the Elevator Speech, a 30-seconds to one-minute pitch for Stand Up For Kids. He suggested that we practice them out loud and that we try to be memorable (maybe even funny). He also encouraged the use of mixed media. Ideally, use three types of media to create a network connection.

"Don't fear the big shots," he says. "Have no fear - get over worrying about rejection."

After his speech we crafted elevator pitches and gave them to each other.

Visiting CASS

Andre House is only two blocks from Central Arizona Shelter Services (CASS), the major shelter in Phoenix. Many of the volunteers have never been, so we decide to swing by. Gabe guides us through the campus and identifies the dentist, the AA building, the shelter, and so on. In truth, he doesn't seem entirely comfortable leading us around, so I decide to keep the visit short. We take a single lap around the front yard, which consists of about 50 people sitting at tables placed on plastic grass turf. 75 to 100 more people are on the streets and sidewalks outside the shelter.

CASS is a story for a different day. Suffice it to say that while CASS is the largest and most comprehensive service to homeless persons, it has something of a draconian reputation. Gabe has a second explanation of the acronym: Corrupt Association of Shelter Services.

Andre House

The Andre House food line is famous among certain circles. If you haven't heard of it, you probably have never been homeless in downtown Phoenix. When we asked the youth a few months ago to help brainstorm activities for the retreat that would help the volunteers better understand the what it meant to be homeless, they had tons of suggestions. But one rose above the rest: "If you guys really want a taste, go through the Andre Food line."

At first I was hesitant. I was not at all interested in taking food out of the mouths of the hungry so that me and my little team could play at homelessness. But the youth insisted that the everyone would get fed and that us being there wouldn't be a problem. Just to be sure, I checked out the Andre House website, which makes it clear that all were welcome in the food line. So I put it on the schedule and made a donation to offset the cost of our meal.

Andre House was founded in 1984 by a pair of Catholic priests. What started as a simple invitation to a handful of people to stay the night has grown into many ministries. Andre House feeds 500 people daily and provides transitional housing for 11 people at a time, clothing to 150 weekly, laundry, showers, lockers, shoe vouchers, and blanket distribution. It also has daily Mass.

I felt it inappropriate to take pictures during our visit. While the members of our retreat agreed to be photographed and recorded, the people receiving Andre House's services did not. So you will have to rely on my memories.

We arrived at Andre House around 4:45 p.m. It is in the vicinity of the Central Arizona Shelter System and the other organizations that serve the homeless. The most striking element of the streets near these organizations is all the people in the actual street. There isn't a lot of through traffic, and most people are on foot. Perhaps there are more astute sociological explanations. Maybe there is a fearlessness associated with homelessness that makes cars the least of their worries. In a few cases, I think the liberal use of the streets is the result of substance use. Perhaps it is no more complex than sidewalks more often being used for sitting or sleeping.

When getting food at Andre, the first step is the line. We are given a one-square-inch piece of colored paper with a number printed on it. After the line, we sit on benches behind the building with shade structures overhead. The numbers ensure no seat swapping happens on the benches. While I understand the purpose of the benches and shade, namely that it is more comfortable than standing in the sun, I can't help but feel herded into a waiting stall.

We sit there for an hour. I think to myself that I could earn the cost of the free dinner in half the time it takes to wait for it.

Gabe is sitting next to me. He is my cultural interpreter. "The lady right there is going cold turkey." Maybe I'm hungry, but I think for a second he is talking about turkey, so I ask him to repeat. He gestures with his head, and notes her incessant scratching. "She's coming off something," he clarifies.

Gabe recounts story after story. He has seen people shoot up under the shade tent. He tells a handful of stories about the "fucking-psycho tourettes kid." Apparently he was let into CASS even though he was underage because his condition was so bad. One day in the Andre line, a large, intimidating man bumped into the psycho tourettes kid, and the tiny kid turned around and went insane on the huge man.

"Then we've got that," Gabe points, "people trying to sell their stuff." The Andre House line is also a place to buy rolled cigarettes and less legal paraphernalia. Currently it looks like someone is selling some kind of white packaged food item.

"Cops roll around here all the time looking for druggies and people sleeping on the streets. The sidewalk belongs to the church, and the other side belongs to CASS, so the only thing left to sleep on is the street."

After sitting for 45 minutes or more, the door to Andre House opens. The wheelchairs enter using the wheelchair ramp. A smiling woman collects the torn-off tickets in a red plastic coffee can. The first row starts to rustle. When the wheelchairs are all in, the first row goes up a set of stairs into the building.

Now it is our turn. We stand and process up. All the volunteers are smiling. It is pretty noisy in the building. I am served goulash. It is possible it is goat goulash. I am also given a salad, mixed fruit salad, and a small drinkable yogurt. The cafeteria tables are full of people already eating. A large portrait of St. Andre looks over us as we dine.

We take a moment of gratitude and dig in. Very soon bargains are being made. I get 3/4 of someone's goulash in exchange for my yogurt. I want the starchy carbs. A few people don't finish parts of their meal. Michael and I attend to the scraps.

On the way out, a young woman gives me a brown paper bag with a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich in it. It feels good to get handed food when full, as it give me comfort for the future. I do, however, immediately worry for the people with peanut allergies.

Walking West on Jefferson in the Late Afternoon...

... sucks.

Generally, I think of all the homeless service centers as being close together. But then, I'm usually speeding in my car.

Walking is such a different matter. The homeless youth are pretty savvy about public transportation, but today is Saturday, and that means less options. The overall upshot is a lot of walking. Now, I am a healthy guy. I walk to work every day. I hike. I run from time to time. But damn. All this walking generally sucks.

But the worst of it is walking west on Jefferson in the late afternoon. A few reasons:

1.) We are walking straight into the sun.

We have been outside most of the day, and whatever minor sunburns we may have had are beginning to mature. I also feel dried out. Baked.

2.) Zero shade.

There is a tall building for half a block, but after that, the empty dirt lots and chain link fences to the left provide scant shelter from the sun. A few of us put in the effort to walk zigzag paths to get what little shade can be had from the occasional palm tree. The rest of us are too tired to chase shade.

3.) Carrying stuff.

The backpack is getting heavy by this point in the day. Gabe has discussed the danger of "having" when one is homeless. Having things means carrying, protecting, and worrying about things. At the moment, I wish I had nothing to carry, but that would also mean having nothing to sleep under.

Unfortunately, I must continues down Jefferson. There isn't a better street to walk down, and it can't be at a different time. So we walk.

Walking with Matt

Matt is our youngest retreatant. As such, his take on the difficulties of being homeless are different that others. The physical aspect isn't his chief concern. His main worry:

Boredom.

He generally finds the waiting for things to happen maddening and suggests that it is the lack of stimulation that would get to him first. He also cites unreliable access to food and uncertainty about sleeping arrangements as hard to deal with.



The lesson here? There are various types of fitness, and as such, the trials of deprivation play out differently. Matt crafts his particular story about homelessness because of his embodied immunity to particular discomforts. At his age, his body is made out of rubber bands shot full of adrenaline. The down side of his metabolic fervor is an increased need for lots of food and an impatience that makes him more susceptible to parts of the mental game.

Point is, we all wear down differently. There isn't a universal story to homelessness. There isn't a single way it sucks. Some of us are harder to wear, some are harder to tear, but it gets to everyone eventually.

Walking to Andre House

After our presentation on basic needs, some writing, and a few games, we leave for the Andre House to get dinner. Andre House is a serves food and provides other services to the community. We have lost a few people to prior engagements, and are down to six people.



Even though it isn't that hot, my skin is dry. Unfortunately, the shade is lacking on Seventh Avenue.

Teambuilding

One of the major goals of the retreat was to create Community Outreach Groups, two- or three-person teams who will brainstorm, initiate, and coordinate relationships with other organizations.

This is a hard task. Cold calling is hard. Networking is hard. Giving presentations is hard. While better organizational skills and a better understanding of homeless issues will help, I figured we needed every resource at our disposal.

Another key ingredient: trust.

Trust between people is powerful. Speaking apprehension research finds that it is rare to have a person who is always nervous about public address. Also, few people are never nervous about speaking. Rather, there are particular situations that cause anxiety. While some speaking coaches try to address the trait of speaking anxiety, another angle is to try to alter situations to control anxiety.

So, for instance, many people would be uncomfortable going out to ask for money on their own, but if you send them in a small group, things get easier. Send them out in a small group of people they deeply trust, and things get even better.

In my experience, the best way to foster trust is through activities and games. Not sure what it is, really. Maybe it's because people like to win games and creating scenarios where they have to work together to succeed invites them to take "trust risks." Maybe it is because games and activities reveal personality, and we trust more because we understand better. Or maybe it's the bodily component. Games facilitate positive physical touch, which often leads to mutual liking, increased disclosure, and more trust.

Also, games are micro-myths. Consider. You are sitting there ordinarily, when suddenly you are called into an adventure (purpose of the game). There are obstacles (created by restrictive rules), but you are also granted special powers (created by enabling rules). While using your special powers, you often fail to overcome the obstacles until you gain revelation (figure out a strategy). Through revelation, you transform into a hero (because you figured it out), save the world (win the game), and return to the ordinary world (the world before the game). It is almost as though it never happened, but you are forever transformed and continue to carry your special knowledge. (For a lot more about heroes and the structure of their adventures consider reading Campbell's Hero With a Thousand Faces: classic.)

When the narrative of the game gets enacted, it becomes a living story, a literal chronotope, an embodiment of meaning through time and space.

As we move, we entangle the tale in sinew, draw it out of its diembodied rules, and craft it into the present.

Whatever the reason, it works. Get a group together, play some games, do a few activities, and after a day and a half, they start trusting each other. It isn't a given, as participants set on not getting along won't. I've seen leaders mess it up, too. But generally, it works.

If you are looking for games, here's a solid resource. I cut my teeth running Snowball retreats back in high school. My "go to" activities/games include: the Human Knot, Elbow Tag, and the Slap Game.

Meeting Basic Needs

Between the two of them, Sam and Gabe have been homeless for more than a decade. As such, they have a lot of experience trying to meet their basic needs.

A few tips if you find yourself homeless:
1.) Always bring water - two bottle minimum.
2.) Ask people who walk by about places to eat. Eventually someone will know.
3.) You can usually find clothing and hygiene in the same place. Don't stock up too much. Focus on season appropriate pants/shorts. Two to three extra shirts is nice, but extra socks and underwear are key.



Getting money is hard. Service organizations give out many resources, but sometimes you just need cash. There are very few ways to make money without breaking the law if you don't have a job. Donating plasma is a solid option. Some people also sell hand-rolled cigarettes, two for 25 cents, 10 for $1.00.

Past that, we get into grayer areas. There is day labor, such as sign spinning. Usually $50 for 10 hours under the table. One can also sell foodstamps. $200 worth of food stamps can get $100 in cash. One might get a better rate making deals in the grocery store. But this is often awkward, and you can get caught. Selling foodstamps is against the law.

The youth differentiate between begging, panhandling, and "spanging." Begging involves pleading for money. Panhandling involves some kind of deception or con (like having a story about needing to go someplace and collecting money for a bus ticket). Finally, spanging is asking for spare change (hence the name SPare chANGE).

Finally, one can acquire money through stealing and selling what was stolen to a fence, selling drugs, or selling one's body. These activities are highly illegal.

Hearing these stories being told illuminates the cultural aspect of homeless life. The youth usually agree on things like the cost of cigarettes, have similar accounts of prostitution, and have specialized vocabulary. Perhaps it is a point for Ernest Bormann and his idea of converging themes. According to Bormann, there are many ways of understanding the world, and those understandings that resonate with people the best have a way of spreading throughout a community. As I sit and listen to the accounts of struggles and successes, I hear common sense making laced throughout.

It is, of course, possible that it isn't the stories that move but the storytellers. Maybe Sam and Gabe are drawn together by their common stories, and other youth with other stories have clustered elsewhere.

Whatever the reason, the effect is somewhat surreal. Listening to them nonchalantly, objectively discussing the realities of street life is disorienting. They have localized knowledge, and traffic with ease in a common set of tales, symbols, and analogies with which I have little or no familiarity.

Before you scoff because someone doesn't know the basics about something, consider the fact that they may have mastery of a domain you don't even know exists.

Final Interview: Melissa

Melissa must return home, but I manage to catch her for an interview before she leaves. As our resident ethnographer, she has generated 50 pages of fieldnotes in 24 hours. She reflects on what it is like to be ignored and what it is like to have the elements wearing away at her calm.

Visiting the Youth House

Stand Up For Kids Phoenix has two houses we use as drop in centers. They are open on weekends, and they provide a place for youth to shower, wash their clothing, watch a movie, eat a hot meal, check their email, search for jobs, get food and clothing to take, and socialize in a non-institutional setting.

Saturday is our big day. We train volunteers, have meetings, discuss house matters, and are open from breakfast to dinner. Today is no different. We are a little thin staffed since some of our mainstays are on the retreat, but we have it covered.

The youth and volunteers call it Our House, so named to represent its inclusiveness. We try to include the youth in the major decisions, the creation of rules, and day-to-day operations. Today the youth have cooked for us.



Things are status quo at the youth house. Someone is rooting around in the clothing room. An intense game of Uno is underway. A few people are discussing which movie to watch. But for us, Our House has never been like this. Previous to this Saturday, the youth house was always a setting in a narrative of charity; it was a place we went to help others.

But today, the house is part of a different narrative. It is a sanctuary. Today we have been wandering in the desert, and Our House is a promise of peace. Will we always think of it differently? That remains to be seen. But today, our embodied story more closely matches the youth, and we understand and appreciate the role it plays far more than ever before.

Walking with Jackie

Jackie is becoming an expert on the difference between ground and pavement, and the implications they have for sleeping. Frankly, Jackie is my hero. When the idea of a street retreat was presented during the first Community Outreach meeting, her response was candid: "I'm terrified. I'm not young like the rest of you and I'm diabetic, so sleeping on the streets scares me. But these kids mean so much to me, I'll do it."

She is very conscientious, and every week or so she would have some concern about being a burden on the group and suggest that maybe she shouldn't go. I would tell her she was free to not come, but I insisted she was no trouble. Each time she would look at me discerningly, trying to detect insincerity. But I meant it every time, and every time she would say, "Ok, well, I'm glad. I really want to go, but I don't want to be trouble."

I'm glad she believed me, because her presence is invaluable. Not only is she wonderful and wise, she is more willing to participate and more enthusiastic than many of the younger counterparts. She is motivated by an aunt-like love for the youth, and her genuineness shows.

Youth House or Bust

Up from the nap, people start rustling around for food. We discover most of the food has already been eaten. Fortunately, today is Saturday, and the Youth House is open.



We would be able to walk straight north if not for a fence blocking easy access. A few of us would be up for fence vaulting, but a few of us are not. After some consideration, we decide that walking a block out of our way is better than having to ascend the bridge again. So we head west, cross the tracks, and then turn toward the Youth House.

The Joys of Sleeping in Junkyards

As a few people start waking, we congregate on one side of the parking lot. Gabe points to a junkyard he once lived in. Apparently, this place was more representational of homeless life than I thought.



When sleeping among building supplies, consider the large pipes. They channel the breeze.

I notices as Gabe tells his story that it is rooted in innovation. Giant junk copper tubes become homes complete with air conditioning and the periodic bells that sound at a nearby scrap yard become his alarm clock. What may be material or noise pollution retains enough predictability even in its excess to structure both the time and space of the cunning.

Power Nap

As noted previously, underfed, under-slept, over-exposed retreatants are harder to energize than those who are nestled in the lap of luxury. I am entirely unused to getting sleepy at 11:00 am. But here we are.

Unfortunately, I cannot sleep. Every ten minutes or so someone passes through. Our spot is on a homeless circuit, since it is near the service outlets and one can avoid walking over the whole bridge by cutting through this space. While I feel more or less safe, I can easily imagine some of our stuff walking away. So while I try to sleep, I cannot. I spend a few minutes looking over the schedule and moving things in my mind to make up for the nap. Eventually, I have staring contests with pigeons. I win.

Energy, Or Lack Thereof

Energy is key.

A good retreat leader has an eye for energy levels. It isn't that high energy is better or worse, it depends on the context. Some activities lend themselves to higher energy, while others are better suited for calmer moods. The savvy retreat leader is one who can get their group to each activity with the right amount of energy.

Generally, if you need to take a group down a few energy levels, writing, drawing, or other reflective activities will serve you well. For ratcheting people up, there are activities called energizers. At their core, energizers amplify moods. They usually accomplish this by absurdity. As such, I have a talent for energizers. I can usually manage to calm a group (with the help of candles and Enya), but turning the volume up is far more natural for me. While I have many years of retreat leading experiences, being absurd is far more practiced.

This particular retreat, however, posed an interesting challenge. Usually, a moderate or flagging group needs one or two solid energizers to get the buzz going. This time, we run a high energy activity (called Smaug's Jewels, tons of fun), and everyone crashed (see next post).

Sometimes energy levels are related to mood, and as such can be altered through engagement. Other times, energy levels are related to the physical conditions of the body. While retreat goers often operate with little sleep, our retreat also had limited water and food in addition to the risks of exposure.

I don't often think about it this way, but mood has caloric, nutritional, and chemical components. The take away for retreat leaders is that well-fed participants are easier to get worked up than poorly fed ones. The more general take away is this:
how we feel is more than a reaction of what happens to us, it is also action within us. Be hesitant to judge the attitudes of those who live on diets and in conditions harsher than your own.

How we feel is not always rational, but it is always connected to rations.

Walking to the Bathroom

Bathrooms are hard to come by out on the street. One would think that with all the businesses around going to the bathroom would be routine. The problem is, businesses don't really want homeless people hanging around.

So we occupy different space. Often it is underused, industrial space. Other options include the nooks and crannies created by urban superstructure or parks. None of these spaces are known for their excellent restroom facilities. As we walk to the bathroom, we discuss the hospitality and rudeness we have faced thus far on the retreat.

Community Reality

The central question of this retreat and project at large: What is community?

There are various angles to take. Take, for instance, the government reporting document "The Current State of Homelessness," which is published every year. It frames “community” as critical to homeless care. Phrases like “community partners,” “community-sponsored,” “community-based service providers,” and “community resources” imply compassion, philanthropy, and service. Not only do important labor and resources come from the “community,” but “community” is also the place where homelessness ends. The goal of all homeless organizations it to reintegrate homeless people into the “community.”

Unfortunately, what “community” signifies is highly selective. For instance, it does not include the community homeless have among themselves. “Community” is not used to describe the collective life of those on the streets, despite the obvious communal nature of their lives. In fact, being homeless means a person is on the outside of the “community.” This is demonstrated by the common use of the term “community re-entry.” The work of homeless service is to bring homeless back into the “community.”

The following statement illustrates the separation between homeless and the community. “Pressures placed on runaway and homeless youth by law enforcement, merchant associations, and hospitality ambassadors cause them to become more invisible and drives them further into the fringes of the city” (p. 29, Arizona Homeless Coordination Office, 2009, emphasis added). Apparently, making the community feel welcome means making the homeless unwelcome. Research by Harter et al. suggests that homeless “invisibility” is a common phenomenon created through social structures (2005). Part of creating a sense of community is excluding those who threaten its predictability.

“Community” is the place where volunteers come. It can be developed through programs. Most importantly, the “community” is where people live. It may be low income, but in the end, “community” is composed of housed individuals. It is not a totally closed boundary, as some organizations provide permanent, subsidized housing, but living in a house is a precondition for participation. Unfortunately, the document excludes homeless from the community, and instead focuses on ways to end homelessness by bringing homeless back into the “community.”

So with this divisive model of community in mind, we set about trying to reconceive community in a more inclusive fashion. What better way than drawing? We drew to the prompt: "Draw community."


So we have a home, but a sign making it explicit it is open to everyone. There is also a gathering at table.

Again a home, but this time the home is encircled by a handholding collective.

This time the hand holding is central, and there are no houses at all.

Again with the hands. Common themes? Circles, people focus, hand holding, sharing, and inclusive housing. Following the community drawing, we drew to a different prompt: "What have you seen so far on the retreat?"


Again, we have some very common threads. Separation, wealth, power, and negative interaction. Clearly the world that we are traveling through is not living up to our notion of community.

Public Speaking

Going out into the community involves more than networking, it also requires actually talking. Our public speaking talk was delivered by Jackie, a student at University of Phoenix, but more to the point, an involved member of Toastmasters.

Unfortunately, our video camera was still charging at the youth house at the time of her speech, so it lives on in notes and description.

She covered delivery, including:

• Eye contact
• Walking
• Vocal variety
• Emphasis
• Hand gestures

She also discussed content issues, such as giving reasons, knowing facts, telling stories about the kids and the house, and telling your own story. She also had general advice, such as "Make it easy for them to donate," and "Even if you screw up, they aren't going to stone you."

Concluding her speech, I followed up with an organizational structure particularly suited for persuasive speaking (Monroe's Motivated Sequence - 5 Steps: Attention, Need, Satisfaction, Visualization, Action).

Taking the Lightrail

We hadn't been planning on taking the lightrail, but a few people asked if it made sense, and it did.

Public transportation is a homeless youth reality, and the lightrail is no exception. Getting a monthly bus pass also allows use of the rail. Past that, they hop it without paying.

Homeless youth have a healthy fear of lightrail security. Apparently the fine is hefty, and you will eventually get caught. If traveling illegally, the front car or back car is best. That way you can either 1.) see the security as you pull up to the station, or 2.) see them get on and hop off before they ask for the ticket you don't have.

In the spirit of the experience, we all decided to hop the rail without paying.

I then secretly bought tickets.

Morning of the Second Day

On an average day, I sleep from 2 a.m. to 10 a.m. I write well during late hours and generally am having too much fun with my day to go to bed early. Because of this, I have little familiarity with 5:30 a.m. Let's just say I have more experience with sunsets than sunrises.

News flash: It gets light around 5 a.m.

Normally this is a truth pleasantly obscured by the walls, roof, and window shades. When sleeping out in the library park, however, there are no barriers between me and the rising light.

When uncomfortable, I can sleep.
When cold and uncomfortable, I try to sleep. At least I can fantasize about it.
When cold, uncomfortable, and having unwelcome sunshine on my face, the fleeting hope for sleep evaporates.

Fuck it. Time to get up.

Making it Through the First Night

At first, things didn't seem too bad. We each had two disaster blankets made from woven recycled cloth, and they were surprisingly soft. One folded in half for the ground, one draped over the body. There was some conversation about shoes on or off, and where our stuff should go. Around midnight the talking started to settle. By this point I am feeling pretty tired, and a fairly reliable method of settling people off to bed is bedtime songs. So, drawing on my youth, I sing "Michael Row Your Boat Ashore" (chosen ironically because of Michael), and "Where Have All the Flowers Gone." Few would be startled to learn my mother was a hippie.

I don't know when other people went to bed. I slipped off after about half an hour of trying to find which part of my hip I didn't mind jabbing into the ground.

I wake around 2:30 am. It is cold. The blankets may be soft, but they don't hold the heat. I spend more than an hour rustling around trying to figure out how to get warmer. Judging from other rustling, other people are awake, too. Eventually, I manage to wrap the bottom blanket around me as well, which helps. I sneak around the group and wrap other peoples bottom blanket around them. Some are awake and thank me. Others are sleeping.

In all, I managed to get another 30 or 45 minutes of sleep out of the darkness.