Paul Hit by Car

I went looking for Paul this morning with another friend, Winstead. Hoped we could take him to look at rental apartments. Looked on upper Church Street. Looked in alleys. Asked people on the street. Found him on lower Church. Looking noticeably upset, he bellowed, “I got hit by a car. I went 6 feet in the air. I had the light. I was in the crosswalk. And the cops didn’t give a damn.” Not sure what more they could have done. They took him to the hospital. Picked him up when the treatment, whatever it was, had been completed.

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Joe Guitar on Bank Street

Not Playing Today

The lives of some of my guys can be so fragile. Struggled to resume his life after hitting the bottom. “I didn’t want to be a bum.” He had crashed. Lost his father. No home. No job. No things. Collapsed somewhere, a woman offered him $10. “I don’t want handouts,” he told her, rejecting the gift. He went to Serenity House in Wallingford, cleaned up, and came back.

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Paul in Doorway on Church Street

Doorway

Told him I called his sister and received a loving caring call back. He mustered up a positive face. Said he slept in the doorway, if you could call it sleep. I guess. Hard floor. Immobilized. Alcohol probably inhibits movement so he stays on the area he warmed. May also lower his temperature. Cold last night, not winter VT cold, but cold-30s. “I had a heated grate for a while. It blew up warm air and then cold air.”

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Paul on Cherry Street II

Pants Jeans Sweater

Yesterday I went looking for Paul to bring him jeans and sweater/jacket that Sharon bought for him at the Shuk. Paul said someone had promised to get him jeans, but he couldn’t trust anyone. He didn’t know his size, “maybe 30/30.” Larry, a street guy, said that he had seen Paul earlier in the day drinking with Ty, the guy with the eye tatooed in the center of his forehead. I walked around the area behind the buildings at the North End of Church and didn’t find him. No more time to kill, I went to do my JUMP duty.

DT or Worse

Today, I found him after an early morning walk down by the Lake. I gave him the clothes. We talked. Then I walked him to City Hall to change. He shook and staggered the whole way there. “Can I get you anything, like coffee or food?””I could use a beer. I got DTs bad.” I shrugged. Not on my menu. He had talked with the supervisor of wet drop in center who told him to come back after dark. “I don’t need you after dark. I need you now.” Someone let him sleep in their van last night. It had some blankets. “Its the first night I have been warm in a month.”

Belated Birthday CardHe showed me a card given to him by the social worker which his sister sent for his birthday. It arrived in his possession late, he said. “I have some decisions to make. I have to be out of here next week. I just don’t know what to do. I have to make arrangements for my stuff in Middlebury.” I urged him not to make bigger  problems and promised to take care of the pictures and equipment he parked at someone’s home. “I trust you,” he said.

Rummaging

He rummaged through his bag, looking for something. Then he pulled out a piece of paper with his sister’s number on it. “Will you call her.” I didn’t ask what he wanted me to say.

Jeans

He was back at his spot after noon. He looked better. He had changed into the pants. “They fit perfectly. How did you know my size? I only wear jeans. I wouldn’t wear anything else. And the LL Bean Sweater and jacket look great also. I feel a lot better.” He was going to make something out of some wire he found, but someone had taken his combination tool.

Better

John on Church Street

John

“Just because we be homeless, doesn’t mean we are not human…. A place to stay is a good thing. Warm. You get a room. And then a second room.”

“Yeh, man,” I said, “and then you start collecting shit.”

leg brace

“You know, you walk a lot when you are homeless. One day, for no reason my tendon burst…. I don’t use my crutches anymore, because I got to get around.”

“Didn’t this scene happen in Midnight Cowboy?”

Paul at District Court in Burlington VT

Looking for Justice

Listening to NPR this AM, a interviewee said he wouldn’t vote for a particular candidate, because, “he doesn’t care about the average guy.” How about the guy on the margin? Who cares for or about him?

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