manyVOICES

PLEASE MEET DAMIAN:

I want to introduce a longtime friend of Facing Homelessness and a key contributor to this page. Damian Monda grew up in the region, and at a very young age was inspired by his grandfather Joe who lived in Wenatchee. Joe owned a little grocery store, was very active in St. Vincent de Paul and had relationships with many people experiencing homelessness. During his childhood on Beacon Hill, Damian and his brother would explore the abandoned neighborhoods surrounding I-5 construction. This was the 60s. They made friends with the people taking refuge in the boarded-up homes. “We grew up building tree-houses down in that area. Even after we moved, I would return year after year. I never really stopped going down into the Jungle.” Around that young age, Damian began what would become a life-long journey of bringing food and basic essentials to the folks living there, offering his time and friendship.

Damian, and now his wife Debbie, still spend a lot of time doing that. They share the belief that these simple acts are of paramount importance, that living in service of others enriches both their lives and those that they encounter. “The greatest gift you can give is just your time, some respect, and to treat people with dignity.” When I asked how he discovered the importance of this, Damian recalled early days working in Georgetown when he would sometimes walk past, or step over, someone sleeping outside his office. “I would get to my desk and realize, I’ve already missed the most important opportunity of this whole day.” He shared that loving others isn’t complicated. “It’s easy. They’re right there. You don’t have to overthink it. The opportunity to serve others is right in our face.”

Our founder, Rex Hohlbein, crossed paths with Damian in 2016 doing similar work: sharing photos, dispelling myths, and meeting the needs of our unsheltered neighbors. “There was one week where I’d go out to meet someone [living outside,] and Rex would have just been there the same day or the other way around. Finally, we said, “We’ve got to meet.” They did. “We met down in Georgetown outside Zoe’s bus. That was about three years ago.” We are so grateful for the important work Damian does in our community and look forward to more of his contributions on this page.

Facing Homelessness is in a season of growth. You’ve likely noticed this page being more quiet than usual, and we have missed connecting with all of you regularly. In addition to Rex’s departure, COVID-19 has presented challenges to our work of coming closer. Facing Homelessness is also taking this opportunity to examine how we share stories in the most ethical manner that protects and honors the people we are lifting up. We’re excited to grow in the direction of having all our programs more informed by those we serve.

Damian and other staff members will be sharing more stories about our work. This page may look a little different moving forward and that simply reflects the times we are in. Please reach out with any comments/feelings/suggestions. We look forward to seeing you here and continuing our work together! You can also follow our Instagram profile and sign up for our newsletter on our website for regular program updates and events.

With Love and Gratitude,
Barron l Beacon Hill Neighborhood

Barron is an architect, photographer and the Communications Manager at Facing Homelessness

A QUIET THOUGHT - If you’re moved by the goodness of this community, please visit http://www.facinghomelessness.org/ and click on the ‘donate’ button and consider a “monthly recurring” donation of just $5 in support of the work. THANK YOU!
#Kindness #FacingHomelessness #JustSayHello #YesInMyBackyard #theBLOCKproject 

separatePEACE

PLEASE MEET PAIGE:

In the back of my mind I was afraid it was true. It had been a while since I sat with Paige. At the dialysis center. Bright eyes and colors. Metal jewelry. Relentlessly positive. Non-stop and not withstanding grim circumstances. Accentuating absurdities. Mercilessly poking at human nuances. Laughing. At herself and others. Laughing at me. Talking too much. Same ol’ Paige. But weaker now. Her legs and face swollen. She stood shakily after her three hour treatment. Her only regret, “Today is James’ birthday. I couldn’t be there to celebrate with him.”

Much had changed since I posted Paige’s story here a year ago. The wildFLOWER. It spoke to her chronic positivity. Her sarcasm and cheerfulness. Her affection for people and motorcycles. And the way I felt when visiting her camp in the Jungle. A treehouse of timbers and tarps. A separate and peaceful place. Adjacent to, but separated by lightyears from bustling Seattle. There was a calming effect. Even the wildlife understood. Birds sang in the trees and squirrels played in tangled vines. Her cats lounged on a small porch. I felt good there.

In those days Paige played the banjo. She sought a musical partner. But only weeks later she suffered a seizure. Hospitalized for days, she returned with no memory of what happened, or even how she got home. Her memory and cognitive processes would never function correctly again, making it difficult to follow her prescribed methadone routine. A subsequent diagnosis of kidney failure would require dialysis three times a week. Her bouts with confusion and now irregular methadone schedule led to anxiety. Deep frustration and hopelessness. Her ability to stay disciplined with her dialysis treatment waned. All this on top of a devastating heroin addiction and homelessness.

Having had bad experiences trusting street rumors, I called James. In seconds I learned what I already knew. James broke down and convulsed in sorrow. He sobbed, “I’m completely broken. She was my everything. I miss her so f*cking much.” The back of my mind took center stage like a scared kid. Paige was gone.

Paige suffered much in her short life, especially in her final days. But the sicknesses that ravaged Paige’s body could not touch her soul. She spoke no ill. She kept no score. Her eyes stayed loving and bright. Her smile as genuine as her love for life, which life itself did not deserve.

I am grateful for each moment I spent with Paige. Talking at her camp. Sitting in medical offices. Riding to the methadone clinic. Always joyful and full of surprises. A wiseass. A badass. A rose among thorns. A Wild Flower. Rest in eternal peace Paige.

Beacon Hill Neighborhood | Damian

A QUIET THOUGHT - If you're moved by the goodness of this community, please visit http://www.facinghomelessness.org/ and click on the 'donate' button and consider a "monthly recurring" donation of just $5 in support of the work. THANK YOU!
#Kindness #FacingHomelessness #JustSayHello

braveSOUL

PLEASE MEET AL:

Several weeks ago, Al woke up to the smell of thick black smoke in his nostrils. He woke to find that their structure under the bridge was indeed on fire! He ran to get the help of a friend, Joos, who ran to the burning structure. He bravely went inside where his friend Wolf remained asleep even though the walls were ablaze around him.

"Joos saved me." Wolf told me. "No, Al saved you by asking for help", Joos corrected him. Wolf told me that although Joos was soft-spoken, he can be very loud when it was needed. "I've never heard you use that voice before." They laughed.

Joos said he threw water on the fire, but it only made it grow. Several structures and tents were burned completely. It is uncertain what started the fire.

Al lost everything including his ID, bus passes, all of his clothes. He lost his winter work boots, his cook stove, his headlamp, all of his pants and sweatpants. Wolf was thankful he still had his wallet, and his cool leather jacket.

The three of them seemed to have a comradery brought closer by the experience. "It was a good place for us, a place to come together and share a laugh even in hard times." Al told me. "It will be missed."

Beacon Hill Neighborhood | Dawndra

A QUIET THOUGHT - If you're moved by the goodness of this community, please visit http://www.facinghomelessness.org/ and click on the 'donate' button and consider a "monthly recurring" donation of just $5 in support of the work. THANK YOU!
#JustSayHello #FacingHomelessness #Kindness

communalSOUL

PLEASE MEET WENDY :

I’d been searching for a young woman who had recently been evicted from a shelter. I’d heard she had been distraught and sick. I called out under a dirty bridge in south Seattle. A voice nearby replied, “She’s over here. With me.” The tent unzipped. She was there with Wendy. Sobbing and cursing her situation.
Cursing her homelessness. She cried as Wendy comforted her. I had not met Wendy. But she consoled the young woman with a silent and powerful compassion I had not seen before.

Wendy cares about her people. “They come to me for everything. Food, blankets, hygiene items, clean needles. I’m so sad when I can’t help them.” She keeps her small encampment village clean, complete with sharp containers. A small stool sits near her door. Like Lucy’s psychiatry booth in the Peanuts cartoon. The doc is usually IN. People come for companionship and consolation. Sometimes they come for help shooting up safely. In an earlier life, Wendy was a medical student and paramedic.

Wendy grew up on the Eastside in an affluent environment. She participated in high school and college sports including basketball, soccer, and swimming. A spiritual person, she avoided drugs, even alcohol. She attended Juanita High School, then Duke University. She attended medical school before contracting leukemia, which she beat. A career change led to further affluence as an account executive at a
mortgage company. But in 2016 Wendy was struck by a texting driver and suffered a head injury. She became addicted to pain meds which led to her heroin addiction. “They cut off my meds. But heroin was cheap and available.” Heroin would lead to Wendy’s rapid spiral from wealthy account executive to
homelessness.

Wendy is no longer interested in money or career advancement. She wants to help others now. “I used
to turn my nose up at homeless people. I thought homeless people were disgusting. Until I became one. Now it’s cold and I miss my family.” Wendy spoke her next words through tears: “Tell people homelessness is not contagious. Neither is drug use. It’s ok to stop and say hi to us. I know there are terrible people out here. People with no souls at all,” she wiped her eyes and sniffled, “but there are beautiful souls out here too.”

Beacon Hill Neighborhood | Damian

A QUIET THOUGHT - If you're moved by the goodness of this community, please visit http://www.facinghomelessness.org/ and click on the 'donate' button and consider a "monthly recurring" donation of just $5 in support of the work. THANK YOU!
#JustSayHello #Kindness #FacingHomelessness

evisceratingEXPECTATIONS

PLEASE MEET JEFF AND BRANDY :

Homelessness carries visions of cartoonish characters. Outlaws and bogeymen. Demons and danger. As a kid, dangerous places taunted me. Woods, bridges, abandoned buildings. But if danger is your deal, you may find homeless encampments boring. Because, with notable exceptions, in an encampment you’re more likely to encounter Ned Flanders than Vincent Price. Doris Day than Cruella de Ville. The Jefferson’s rather than the Adam’s Family. If homelessness were TV drama, Jeff and Brandy are the couple next door in a 70’s sitcom. Quirky, witty, engaging. Sometimes outshining the main characters.

Brandy is a jovial soul with flowing red hair. She enjoys company and conversation. A genuine woman, she laughs often, but speaks with conviction. She’s delightful but don’t mess with her. She yields no quarter to trouble makers. A neighbor fellow was recently evicted for harassing women. “If he was on fire I wouldn’t piss on him,” she laughs, pulling back her long red hair. Brandy was a competition roller skater. Her eyes catch fire when she talks about it. She’s tough. But also enjoys drawing and has an insatiable appetite for homemade cheese cake.

Today there’s tension. An upcoming sweep has them agitated. Brandy is packing up. In frustration, she’s tossing belongings into bags with a vengeance. Pontificating passionately about the city’s failed policies. Still yapping, she grabs a stick deodorant and vigorously applies it under her sweatshirt before tossing it at an open suitcase where it bounces and hits the floor. All without breaking verbal stride. Brandy will always crack you up. Jeff keeps a low profile in these instances.

Jeff is quieter. He works hard. Roaming alleys nightly, collecting recyclables. He returns after sunrise. “We survive on the money from the cans. But you’d be surprised at what people toss in dumpsters. Tools, valuables, even money.” He points at 4 large sacks of fresh food discarded from a Starbucks. He smiles, “These will feed our entire camp today.” Jeff is a framer and general woodworker but has had trouble staying employed. “School never worked for me. But I learn well on the job.”

Jeff and Brandy have been homeless and in love together a long time. But why are they homeless? Having known them for 3 years I can only say it’s not a lifestyle they choose. But knowing Jeff and Brandy, one can’t help but conclude that, by stereotypical expectations, these two simply don’t look or act homeless. But on the stage that is poverty, Jeff and Brandy reside in the wings. Behind crooked props. Out of view of the critics. Defying audience expectations.

Beacon Hill Neighborhood | Damian

A QUIET THOUGHT - If you're moved by the goodness of this community, please visit http://www.facinghomelessness.org/ and click on the 'donate' button and consider a "monthly recurring" donation of just $5 in support of the work. THANK YOU!
#JustSayHello #FacingHomelessness #Kindness

inAWE

PLEASE MEET CHUCK:

My mom hugged & kissed us non-stop. Still does, would do anything for us, whenever, wherever. I didn't grow up with a brother but I'm blessed to have four kind, smart, and strong younger sisters, all of us within 7 yrs of age. More blessings in having two daughters and a wife, all three who've given my life more meaning and love than I could have ever imagined. I'm grateful for all the feminine wisdom in my life.

This Facebook page in a word is about LOVE. It is about loving everyone through non-judgment and acceptance. There are nearly 53K people following this page and 77% of them are women.

This is going to sound cheesy, no way for it to not, but a heartfelt THANK YOU to all the women on this planet for making important the act of nurturing and loving each other.

This is Chuck. He's not doing so well these days. His camp had been swept several times awhile back and when Ro saw his downward spiral she invited him to live in her backyard.

Let me say it again, 'She invited him to live in her backyard.'

My daughter Jenn drew up some plans for a platform and with a crew of folks build it in a day. Pallet Shelter then graciously donated one of their small enclosures for Chuck to live in.

Another person that has helped Chuck a great deal is Kim, who with her partner Dan, are BLOCK Home hosts. Last week Kim & Jenn went out to help Chuck cleanup his space, he's been unable to address basic needs. They took out bags and bags of garbage, food and waste. So much KINDNESS extended to Chuck.

I am in awe of what women do for those in need in our community. The kindness and nurturing and perseverance and grit and so much more is humbling to the point of crying.

A heartfelt THANK YOU Ro, Kim and Jenn for your constant kindness.

Beacon Hill neighborhood | Rex

A QUIET THOUGHT - If you're moved by the goodness of this community, please visit http://www.facinghomelessness.org/ and click on the 'donate' button and consider a "monthly recurring" donation of just $5 in support of the work. THANK YOU!
#Kindness #JustSayHello #FacingHomelessness Jenn LaFreniere

jungleKING

PLEASE MEET FRANCIS:

I’d long avoided the scary shack in the woods near the path. It kind of whispered, “Keep walking.” Like a dark prop from The Wizard of Oz. There was a smoky campfire and contorted junk. A large man with boxing gloves pounded a punching bag that swung from a limb. Sweat ran from his face. His bald head steamed in the cold air. His tattooed body moved with agility and absurdity. As I passed, he would peer though the smoke. Coal eyes and a deadpan look. Yep, just walking here. Think I’ll just keep on walking…

A frail old man lived nearby under a tarp. Sickly, with a handlebar mustache. He liked warm soup and Spam. We talked as the boxer appeared from nowhere. His coal eyes now two feet away. I fumbled. “Ahem, I brought your friend some food.” He looked cautiously at the food, then at the old man, who nodded affirmatively. Then at me. At this point I was pondering escape routes when he said, “God will bless you for taking care of my friend.” I asked if he would like some too. “No thank you. Please give the rest to my friend.” I relaxed, noticing that, without changing expressions, his expression changed from bogeyman to large curious child. “Uncle Francis watches over us.” the older man explained.

I got to know Francis. A notorious fellow with a reputation and a rap sheet. He came here alone from Samoa at age 14. With no family, he took to trouble. Drugs, fighting, guns, prison. He worked on a fishing boat. “But I got fired for hitting a man with a fish.” “A fish?” I asked. “It was a big fish. He deserved it. But I forgave him.” I laughed and tossed another log on the fire. I asked if he needed anything. “Just prayers.” he answered quietly.

Francis was devastated by his mother’s death. A dispute between them went un-reconciled. Francis became depressed, but deeply spiritual. “I’m not a bad man. I’m a good man. People hear only bad things. I get angry when people are disrespectful. But I always reconcile with them.” A scuffle last year left Francis with three bullet wounds. “I forgave the man.” he said.

To know Francis we cannot keep walking. We must stop and look beyond the rumors and reputations. One must talk with Francis. Sit with him. Get smoke in your hair and eyes. Talk about life. Talk with his neighbors who love him. They say they feel safer with Francis nearby. “King of the Jungle” some call him. I once visited Francis in jail. He cried as I left. “I pray for you always my friend,” he said.

Beacon Hill Neighborhood | Damian

A QUIET THOUGHT - If you're moved by the goodness of this community, please visit http://www.facinghomelessness.org/ and click on the 'donate' button and consider a "monthly recurring" donation of just $5 in support of the work. THANK YOU!
#Kindness #FacingHomelessness #JustSayHello Crosscut

atCROSSROADS

PLEASE MEET MICHELLE:

The Jungle is a city designated Emphasis Area where, “Encampments have become consistent problems.” The Mayor’s office clarifies, “The City makes determinations based on the totality of the circumstances.” It’s all the same to Michelle. Because generally, and in totality, the emphasis of Emphasis Areas is you’re getting swept. She was setting poles at her new camp when I arrived by the mud trail. “You brought some of your wife’s bread, right?” I asked how her new place was working out. “It’s ok actually. There are fewer rats.”

Michelle was an RN. She’s patient. A caring woman who enjoys conversation on a nice day and hates being cold. She loves her family, blood-wise and otherwise. She has the demeanor of… an RN. So what drove Michelle to homelessness? Why would an RN live here? Maybe it started when her mother shot her in the back as a kid, leaving a bullet lodged in her kidney. Or maybe a subsequent traumatic experience lodged deeper in her mind and heart.

Michelle describes her childhood as horrid. Her mother was bipolar. Schizophrenic with multiple personalities and a drug habit. Against odds, Michelle finished high school and a BS degree in nursing. She went on to become a mom with visions of an MSN degree. But things went bad. Perhaps childhood stresses caught up. “I snapped. I don’t remember everything. I did some real bad things to someone.” Michelle intended to protect her sister, but in doing so committed a serious crime. She hid, and became homeless. Evading the law and working secretly for a travelling carnival for two years. The carnival ended with a five year prison sentence. Followed by a meth habit. And more homelessness.

Michelle is honest. She owns her situation. She places no blame. She keeps no score. She has a vision of escaping homelessness. She’s ready, but cautious. What does her vision look like? A long pause, “I, don’t know.” For now homelessness is a conscious decision recognizing the risks and fears she has of sheltered living. A precautionary approach that protects herself and others. She feels safe in her tent in the woods. “I can feel sounds and movement outside my tent. I can distinguish between a rat and an intruder.”

Why is Michelle homeless? “I’m afraid. Afraid of snapping again. Of depriving others. Afraid of change after being outside for so long.” Counselors have suggested that Michelle suffers from Schizoaffective Disorder. She has tried to get help. “If I could get the help I need I would be there with bells. I’d be out of here. Something will work out. I just don’t know what.” We love Michelle.

As I prepare to leave Michelle hugs me. A pickup slows down on the nearby onramp. An angry man shouts, “Get a job ya piece of crap!”

Beacon Hill neighborhood | Damian

A QUIET THOUGHT - If you're moved by the goodness of this community, please visit http://www.facinghomelessness.org/ and click on the 'donate' button and consider a "monthly recurring" donation of just $5 in support of the work. THANK YOU!
#JustSayHello #FacingHomelessness #Kindness Crosscut KING 5