Surviving

Yesterday after I gave a guy two bus tickets to get to a job interview, he thanked me and I wished him luck and he told me that he didn't believe in luck--that luck only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. I told him I thought the phrase was that "close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades," but he wasn’t interested. He said “God Bless” and was out the door.

Sometimes that’s how it feels when dealing with the homeless--we get close, but never quite there.

We throw grenades in the form of a shower and bar of soap, a razor and shaving cream, a cup of coffee and a donut, clean socks and underwear, a place to make phone calls, receive mail and use the Internet and the only thing you can do is hope that something sticks and makes a difference. Most likely it won’t.

Often, I grow frustrated when I give the same guy a new toothbrush two days in a row, or when I explain the same thing four times, or when a guy comes into my office and tells me how I should be running the place instead of simply saying thank you for providing a warm, safe place to get off of the streets for a couple of hours.

It probably sounds selfish, but the only thing I know for certain after working here is that you have to save yourself.

On certain days I wonder if it’s a battle even worth fighting, and then I think about one of the volunteers in the men’s center who likes to jokingly rant about how “all them cats got amnesia.” The guys pretty much try to get away with anything they can, and when they get caught they plead ignorance, as if the same rules haven’t been in place for the last three months. It’s aggravating, to say the least, and the only solution I’ve come up with so far is to fight fire with fire and develop a similar case of amnesia--a process greatly aided with long naps after work, runs around Lake Merritt, Hamburger Helper and Charles Shaw.

I try to not let their failures become my failures, because when I do everything all too quickly becomes overwhelming and destroys any semblance of optimism that I still have. Without optimism there’s no presence, patience or compassion, and without that, coming back day after day and pitching horseshoes at a pit that may or may not have a stake is impossible, useless at best--you have to believe you're eventually going to get lucky and toss a ringer.