A shelter is not a home ... or is it?

I stole the title of this posting from a book by Ralph Nunez who runs several shelters for families in New York City.   Here at Inn from the Cold,  we try to provide basics of a home for our guests.  I sometimes tongue in cheek refer to our shelter as a Bed and Breakfast.  Certainly our homemade breakfasts are top notch, but the bed portion of the billing might charitably be described as spartan: individual mats on the floor of a large gym, each with a single Red Cross issued blanket.   But it's warm and safe and many of our guests tell us they've enjoyed their best night's sleep in a while.

Over the years, we've made a few improvements to the sleeping facility.  We now set up a folding chair beside each mat that helps define personal space, provides a place to hang belongings or sit away from the eating area.    And starting this year, we also offer each guest a pillow.  Dianne scrounged a dozen or so from a local hotel and each guest gets their own pillow that's theirs for the season.  We seal each pillow up in a bag with our guest's name on it each  each morning so they're ready for the next night.  Pillows offer our guests a comfortable sleep, but also a level of dignity they all deserve.

For the awake hours, we've added  a TV (thanks, Vic) and it's great to see our guests chilling in front of the tube, catching up on favourite shows like Coronation Street (who knew!?).  The TV does tend to squelch conversation so we don't bring it out every evening, but when we do it's a special treat.

Marcella generously donated a laptop and this is always popular, although the first night it was mostly used to check out bizarre YouTube videos of a Russian fellow demonstrating weapons, including a fully automatic shotgun.  I learned later that this wasn't as obscure as I thought: that shotgun video has been viewed over 23 million times on YouTube...   Since then, the laptop use has settled into people looking for jobs, connecting up with friends and family on Facebook and watching the hockey game on nights the Canucks games aren't broadcast on TV. And coincidentally, a young Russian guest was skyping with his family back in Russia.

We have a few other ideas to make the shelter more homelike, such as adding a shower, but is this where our efforts should be focussed?   Would we be better off working towards permanent housing for our guests, by finding willing landlords, lobbying elected officials etc?

I think we need to do both: improve our shelter, including more services and shelter space open year round, plus lobbying for more affordable housing and finding ways to transition our guests into this affordable housing.

Ralph Nunez says that "people don't like to hear it, but shelters are going to be the low-income housing of the future".   Our shelters are no comparison to what they have in New York city -- fantastic "Family Inns" with enrichment programs for the children, job clubs.  Here's a link with a short description of some of their services: Family Inn services and the main link to his website Homes for the Homeless.   The scale of homelessness in Richmond also has no comparison to New York city, where 10,000 families and 15,000 children live in shelters, and up to 100 new families apply for shelter each day.  But our problem should be more easily solvable.

Perhaps when your head nestles into your pillow tonight, you could give some thought as to how we could help create more homes for those who need a place, either by making our shelter more homelike, creating more shelter space or making more real homes available.  Let me know your ideas.

It takes a child

Bud's cart

Olivia and Dad Brian

One bitterly cold evening early in January, “Bud” was the first person through the door.  He told me his  hands were freezing because he'd lost his gloves and he'd spent the day pushing around his metal-handled shopping cart.   I told him it was his lucky day because someone special would be dropping by later that evening with gloves.    That someone special was twelve-year old Olivia who arrived with her Dad, Brian, loaded down with brand new gloves, hats and socks.    Olivia took on the project of providing clothing for our guests as a social action project for her upcoming Bat Mitzvah.  She heard about the shelter from her Bat Mitzvah teacher, Kathe, a longtime shelter volunteer.  Olivia first raised funds, then purchased the clothing from Mark's Work Wearhouse, who agreed to match the donations.




Many people are content to simply drop off their donations but I offered Olivia and Brian a tour and a chance to meet our guests, to which they replied with an enthusiastic "Yes!"  In we went.   Olivia offered gloves and socks to the guests, who were all gathered around the dinner table. All were gratefully received and Bud, in particular, was delighted with his new gloves.    She then fished out a fantastic fur-lined bomber hat that suited Bud perfectly.



I'm not sure who was smiling more -- Bud, with his gifts or Olivia for the joy of giving.

The next morning, we had more gifts for our guests, also from children.  The grade three students of another volunteer, Vilma, made scarves in December that were intended as Christmas gifts, but we were closed during Christmas and had just reopened, so I brought them out at breakfast to give out just before people head off into the day.   What made these handmade fleece scarves so special were the handcrafted cards, carefully coloured and featuring personalized messages.

The next time Vilma volunteered for a dinner shift, I thanked her for her thoughtfulness and how special it made everyone feel seeing the gifts and reading the messages of love from her students  But it was powerfully brought home when Bud walked in the door, sporting his new scarf tied around his neck.  Vilma explained to him that 8 year olds had made the scarves and how excited they'll be to learn that she met him wearing one of their scarves.

The saying goes that it takes a village to raise a child.   From what I've witnessed this season, I'd say it takes a child to help make a village, a village where people are caring and take action to show they care through simple gifts of kindness and love.

[update: I regularly see Bud at the Tuesday Community Meal at St Alban and as I write this (26 March) he's still looking great in what has become his trademark bomber hat and scarf.]

Losses

"Paul" arrived one Saturday night in December, looking distraught and not speaking very coherently.  "House fire ... my fault ... lost everything."  He'd been wandering the streets for over 24 hours, had visited various churches, but couldn't find a place to stay.  Hugh and I sat him down at a table by himself, told him he could stay with us, he'd be well looked after.  We offered him something to drink or eat but he declined.   We were concerned about his mental state and considered calling 911 not for our safety but for his -- to get him to emergency where a mental health professional could assess his condition, but we decided to give him some time to settle in.   He asked for a glass of milk so he could take his medication and gradually he calmed down.

He pointed to his clothes and said his pants were too big for him --  he had to hold them up with one hand to keep them from falling down -- and his coat that was tattered and too short in the sleeves.    We offered to find him some better clothing, but he only wanted a better fitting pair of jeans -- he said he didn't want to look too good when he went to see his worker Monday morning -- he also took a belt that Wendy from our clothing committee had just brought in.

Paul was a model guest: very gentle, respectful, undemanding.  He gradually accepted better clothing and a shaving kit and looked like a changed man.  He turned out to be a big fan of the NY Times crossword puzzles, which he worked on most evenings.  He ended up staying with us five straight nights, until the weather alert was deactivated and we closed.

I don't know if the fire Paul talked about really happened but we wouldn't have treated him any differently either way.  Most people who come through our doors have suffered a loss: lost jobs, lost relationships, lost homes, loss of sobriety. Some, like Paul, arrive with nothing but the clothes they're wearing, others struggle in with all their possessions.  But almost all arrived weighed down by greater losses: loss of dignity, loss of direction, loss of spirit.

The shelter offers a brief respite from the pains of loss: a warm place to call home for a few nights, clothing and hygiene kits to clean up with, and good food and companionship to nourish and strengthen the body and spirit.   Like Paul, some of our guests have been wandering around somewhat aimlessly for quite a period of time - 24 hours in Paul's case, years for others.  I hope the brief respite we offer affords some the opportunity to reflect on the roads they've taken that has led them to where they are today.  I hope they leave with a little more strength than when they arrived, strength to simply get them through another day, or strength to hold on till they get that one break they need, or strength to choose a different road than the one that led them to our front door.

We didn't see Paul again when we reopened the shelter for the eleven night stretch in January, so I hope he's doing real well.  We did see many familiar returning faces, some I was just thankful to see they were still alive, but two I was happy to see them, but sad that it was back at the shelter: "Jack" who seemed so determined in December to get back on the sobriety wagon and  "Kip" who'd stayed with us the previous season, landed a job, found an apartment, but through no apparent fault of his own, had lost it all again just after Christmas.  It's a long journey, requiring patience and strength and a few breaks.  I'm thankful that our shelter exists and that we are able to offer each guest a little break on their journey.

Shelter closing for a while

Well, the milder weather has washed away the snow, making the lawns green again and closing the shelter.  

I want to thank everyone for helping to make the past eleven nights so special for the eighteeen different people who spent the night with us (and the four who just came for a meal).   During this activation we offered a few new services, thanks to some kind donations:  TV, a laptop and pillows.  The TV is very popular and we're going to bring it out now and again.    We don't want it out every night because it tends to stifle conversation and socialization but it's a nice change of pace.  The laptop is also very popular, checking emails, facebook, searching for housing and at least two are job hunting, including 1 fellow who landed two interviews at restaurants in Richmond (he's an experienced cook).    We have one young man from Russia staying with us and he was up most of one night chatting with his family back home using the laptop.

The highlight of the run was that two of our regulars will no longer be regular guests -- they moved into a suite and you can imagine how happy they are.   Again, thanks to the kindness of the shelter community, they are fully equipped with all the essentials (and more) and are enjoying the comforts of their new home.  

Porridge

I remember a joke I first heard in elementary school.    Some monks lived together in a monastery in complete silence, aside from once each year, one monk could say one sentence.   This annual event was eagerly awaited.   The first year, monk 1 says "I love the porridge".  Second year, the next monk stands up and says "I hate the porridge."   Monk 3, a year later, says "I can't stand the constant bickering about the porridge".   It was a bit like that this morning at the shelter.

"Bobby" has stayed with us 3 nights this year.   I'm not counting the night he arrived very late for dinner.  Very late: ten to eight ... in the morning.   He looked incredibly disshevelled, barely moving.  But he devoured a plate we heated up for him and managed to leave with someone else's lunch all before 8 am.  Last night, he arrived early, clean shaven, talkative and I didn't recognize him at first.   This morning he was clearly in a foul mood and came up to the pass through and asked why we put salt in the porridge. "It was horrible.  Who puts salt in porridge?"  He seemed very upset.

When I told him it was time to leave, he still looked sullen.  I asked if he'd had plans for the day, if he'd like me to put his coffee in a paper cup so he could take it with him.  No response.  He just got up and left.    Ten minutes later, I saw he was back at the kitchen door -- the one that goes to the dining hall that is normally closed but was propped open as we were cleaning up, so I hustled over to see what was going on.  He leaned in and said "Sorry for my behaviour, it was childish of me".  And off he went.

I related this story to my wife Jan afterwards and she reminded me  that our Scottish brother-in-law Jim loved porridge and he always wanted it with salt -- never sugar.  Apparently this is common in Scotland.  Jim never understood why we put sugar on porridge.

Anyway, if the biggest issue of the day is whether someone likes or hates the porridge it's going to be a very good day.

Thanks to Wendy, Luc and Beth for serving up a great breakfast (we also offered scrambled eggs and toast) and making fabulous barbecued chicken sandwiches for lunch.