coldTRAIL

PLEASE MEET SEAN:

Seattle’s Jungle is a splendid forest adorned with vine draped maples. Birds sing high in green canopies. Berries, fruit trees, and mossy foundations speak to earlier times. Mud trails lead to nestled camps. Wandering endlessly through English Ivy. But tangled souls cry pathetically from encampments twisted among the vines and branches. Stuck in a world most can’t conceive. The “Jungle” is a homonym.

I passed Sean’s camp regularly. There was a tent, a firepit and a small patio. He’d greet me with a smile and nod each time, appearing satisfied to see an outsider with good intentions. He invited me over once. We grabbed a couple chairs and sat for a while. It was cold. But the fire and conversation were warm. I immediately like this guy.

“It’s a continuous struggle,” he said. “I worry constantly. I have many sleepless nights. We’re always on our guard.” He tossed a chunk of broken pallet on the fire. Looking into the flame he said, “I’ve always longed for the structure of a family. To be a husband and a father.”

Sean grew up a latchkey kid. His mom worked graveyard. His dad abandoned them early before serving a long prison sentence. He died soon after. Sean worked the docks of Tokeland, WA packing ice and working crab boats. He is an experienced hiker and climber. But as a young man, Sean committed a crime. It would cost him a 13 year prison sentence and any substantial chance at housing or stable employment. Sean has been homeless most of his life. “Each time I find an open door it gets slammed in my face. I feel I’m stuck.”

As I departed he said, “Tell people not to honk when they see us. Some of us cannot function safely without sleep. Tell them we are human just like you. Each of us is doing our best to get out of this hell.”

As I walked the mud path outbound a memory surfaced. As a young kid I once trespassed across a muddy lot. The mud got deeper. Clutching and emitting suction sounds with each step. My right shoe was sucked off my foot. Then the left. I felt helpless and physically drained. I was cold. I panicked. I could see where I needed to go. I could see people who could help me. But they were busy. They couldn’t see me. Or hear me over the noise.

Georgetown 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 #JustSayHello #FacingHomelessness

taggingTOMORROW

PLEASE MEET ROBYN :

Robyn’s tent sat high on a concrete shelf under a bridge. Near a bulkhead adorned with lichen and green slime. And graffiti tags. It’s a dank place with wide views of Seattle. Expanding across your vision, the city hums. There’s energy, effervescence and affluence. But here the steel beams rumble overhead, dripping dirty water. Streaming off the tents into the mud. It’s a lonely place with strangers and shadows. Darkness’ territory. Robyn never got over being scared out here at night.

Robyn asked with weak anticipation “Any good news?” As I answered, her big eyes lit up. A bed and shelter waited a few blocks away. She clinched her fists and jumped like a school girl. “YES! When can we leave? ” “Right now” I said. “Did you bring my guitar?” she asked. We had been storing it for her. She was packed in 5 minutes. Robyn hates being homeless.

I met Robyn in the Jungle during the summer of 2018. Fast forward a year when Rex profiled her here. She had no plan. No vision for tomorrow. She spoke of her dearly deceased grandmother, and her love for playing guitar. She wanted to get off the streets. But that was last summer. What took so long?

Robyn came to Seattle in 2011. Her grandma’s passing devastated her. She sought a new start after difficult circumstances. The subsequent death of her boyfriend in 2013 hit her hard, unraveling her life incrementally, eventually leading to homelessness. “I lived in the Jungle because I was alone and scared. People looked after me there. My family doesn’t know I’m out here. My grandma would roll over in her grave. Now I’ve seen things I wish I hadn’t seen. I know things I wish I didn’t.”

Robyn’s eyes speak volumes. Sometimes pools of sadness. Sometimes the sun peeks through the clouds. When she’s happy they shine like a National guitar. But they mist up when she speaks of her grandma.

Many roads lead to homelessness. Few lead outbound. And to understand homelessness one must experience it, which I have not. But with homelessness, tomorrow can be a long time. Robyn’s journey has been fraught with failures and false starts. But today there is cause for celebration. “My grandma sends good people my way to help me.” Her vision now includes an apartment, a job, and a dog. Today it’s Robyn’s day. Because tomorrow is her territory. We love you Robyn.

South Seattle 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 #JustSayHellloi #FacingHomelessness