One of our homeless guys came into the clothing room last week on our first really snowy day, feeling cold, cold, cold. "I was having such a good sleep," Henry said, "and then the wind blew all the snow over me and my blankets." I suspect that he woke up and downed whatever alcohol he had left before trudging from his "camp" to us.
"I just want to warm up," he said. "I almost froze to death." He sat on a chair in the middle of the clothing room hubbub, rubbing his hands together, asking for a sleeping bag, long underwear (which we'd run out of) and gloves, and that's when I noticed that he's missing his little finger on one hand. Did he lose it to frostbite another winter? I wondered.
After thawing out for a while, Henry pulled a thin leather wallet from his pocket, and handed me its only contents -- a piece of paper. He asked if I would do him the favour of phoning his sister, who would take him away from the city for the winter. I made the call, but there was only a voicemail response, and I didn't know what message to leave. I took the paper back to Henry, and he asked me to call the three other phone numbers on the same piece of paper, though he couldn't remember the names associated with all the numbers. He was getting desperate, so I tried each number, but had no luck at reaching anyone.
When I took the paper back to him, Henry was warm and falling asleep in his seat. I tried to encourage him to go elsewhere, as we were about to close for the day, but he became angry because he just wanted to sleep, and he had no place to go. "Call the cops," he finally shouted. It was an uncomfortable place to be, not having any helpful suggestions for him. I don't know enough about inner city agencies or how homeless people survive winter here. I suspect they rely a lot on each other and the shelters, but it was still too early for the shelters to be open. In the end, another not-quite-so-down-on-his-luck fellow, God bless him, volunteered to take Henry to the Spadey Centre, and away they went together to the guy's car, Henry gripping the guy's arm and staggering along.
Last week, an
Edmonton Journal newspaper article reported that there are 2400 homeless people in our city, a decrease of 21% since 2008. While I'm glad that there are 700 fewer people sleeping on the streets, that's still 2400 too many in an affluent city like ours. We don't need Daryl Katz's plans for a new hockey arena for millionaire hockey players and their wealthy patrons to enjoy. We need more successful programs like Housing First, which operates through the Jasper Place Health and Wellness Centre, offering low cost housing to homeless people, giving them a place to start to pull their fractured lives together. In the last four years, Housing First has had a 94% success rate and has housed 350 people. Much of the reported 21% decrease in homelessness is thanks to Housing First and the people there who saw a need and made things work for some of our poor and underemployed brothers and sisters. For more about the program, here's a link:
http://www.jphawc.ca/jphousing.htm
At times I wonder about working at the clothing room, and whether I am not part of the broken system, enabling people like Henry to keep on making poor choices. I guess that until there are more organizations like Housing First, someone needs to offer Henry a place to warm up, a few basic supplies, and a listening ear.
It's brutally cold here this morning. I wonder where our homeless people are. I wonder where Henry is. I sure hope he's warm.
