| I guess it’s all a matter of perspective. Most people are so far gone that it doesn’t warrant much of an effort. Sure, if it’s the middle of nowhere and there aren’t a lot of people around anyway, I might waste even a half-hour or so listening to the stories–who did what to ruin their success, which lawyer will be calling any day now with a big check, or why God hates them for no reason at all. But usually, it’s not the middle of nowhere and there are plenty of people to chat with, so, “Here, take my card. When you want to get clean, let me know.” When I come across someone who’s already looking for a way out, though, it’s like–I don’t know– it’s like a miracle, it seems. This morning, I came across Sara. She’d been on the street since Covid–six years. The whole family had gone loco, wearing masks and self-quarantining, cutting off all connections, even from family. “They treated each other like Lepers. My brother boiled water every night to wash himself rather than share a bathroom with me. The first few weeks, he would climb out the window to pee in a bush or crap in a shopping bag over a bucket. The image of that, in my head, is what helps me go on.” |
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| Now twenty-one years old, Sara lives life day to day, but she knows she can’t stay in the tunnel forever. “Have you considered going back home?” “I went back a couple years ago. Deek’s gone. The parents pretended to be happy for like five minutes, then argued for an hour and got back on their phones. Mom still wears a mask in the car. You can’t talk to her. She has to look at her phone to find out what her opinion is about anything. Dad just goes along with whatever she says, because not going along with it just makes it worse. They hate me anyway, so here I am.” “I’m sure they don’t hate you.” “Yes, they do. They hate everybody. They hate each other. They even hate themselves. I can’t blame them–they’re horrible people. I think they’re getting divorced soon–they just don’t know it yet.” |
| It was easy to like her. The last couple of rainy days made a sunny day in the park feel like its own new beginning. Still, using comedy to mask the pain of a harsh reality made me worry she might be susceptible to numbing. “You seem to have a pretty good head on your shoulders–why are you still in the tunnel? Are you using?” “No, I’ve seen what happens, and I can’t afford to do drugs. Not that the drugs are too expensive. It’s just that every time you wake up, all of your stuff is gone.” “Ok, so why are you here? Most of these people are smoking fentanyl and blaming other people for their problems. Aren’t you worried you’re going to get hurt out here someday?” “Trust me, the sober person is gonna win any fight. Half the people who are missing teeth out here lost them to meth. The other half thought they could f*** with me but found out otherwise.” I took her at her word. Sara didn’t just look scrappy–she looked… scrapped. She has a part-time job answering phones, scheduling appointments for a local air conditioning and plumbing outfit. She banks with Discover, so checks are preferred. She still has her “Under 21” ID from three years ago, which tells me she has no interest in alcohol, so that’s good. She got her GED last year, but the physical copy was sent to her old address. “I’m sure Dad blue-screened when they saw that in the mail. Anyway, I’m saving for a car, then when I get full-time work, eventually, nursing school.” “Really? Nursing school?” “Yeah, why?” Most of the people in the tunnel have plans to get out, and those plans always include housing–whether it’s realistic or fantastical, housing is the prime objective. This is different. We look at homeless people, first and foremost, as homeless people. They know that. Whether or not it’s mentioned, the underlying context is homelessness. Sara’s ambition wasn’t free housing, vouchers, temporary shelter, a windfall lawsuit culminating in a mansion–it was an occupation–occupational training, to be exact. “Well, that’s a pretty fair timeline. Would you be interested in looking at ways to expedite some things?” “What are you going to do, take me under your wing, tell me what to do?” “No, I’m not going to take you under my wing, but I will tell you what you could do. I’ve only known you for about ten minutes, and I already see that you should be in a leadership position. You’re likable, funny, organized, you’re not afraid of a fight, but ultimately, you want a career helping people. You’re self-motivated, self-reliant, and self-aware. I’ve talked to a lot of kids, usually younger than you, and they haven’t yet figured out that the world doesn’t revolve around them. You’ve clearly figured out that life is an uphill battle, and you’ve got your hiking boots on. You’re actually kind of a badass, and if you were to surround yourself with other badasses, you could go really far in this world.” “By doing what?” “What do you make at your current job, about $15, $20 an hour?” “In there, yeah.” “Well, as long as you’re not on drugs, and you’re not wanted by the law, join the military. You go take the ASVAB, hit up a recruiter, give your employer a couple of weeks’ notice, then you go into training. You learn to do things you never dreamed you could do, get in top physical shape, graduate after a few months, then go into medical training. About five months later, you’re a medic. You’ve already banked 2k a month while training, and what have you spent it on? You’ve had free medical, dental, room, and board. This time next year, you’re getting specialized medical training in a military hospital, you’re still getting paid while you learn, and you haven’t spent the night outside since they had you doing overnight drills during boot camp. In two more years, you’ll send a letter to your parents telling them you’ve been commissioned on the USS Gerald Ford as a medical officer serving somewhere in the South Pacific. You’ll say you can’t be more specific because of security protocols, of course. You’ll spend your 25th birthday surrounded by some of the strongest, most dangerous people on the planet, and they’ll recognize you as the one they can trust if they’re ever injured. For the rest of your life, you’ll have government healthcare, lending and tax benefits, military discounts, access to commissaries around the world, and the respect of everyone who has ever put on the uniform. Most people work til they’re at least 65 before they retire. You’ll be eligible for a full pension at age 41 if you decide to stay. If not, you’ll have access to GI Bill funding for further college education, so you can go in whatever direction you want.” “Wow, that’s a lot.” “It’s something to think about.” She asked if I worked for the Army or something. I talk to a lot of people in the tunnel, though, and I’ve done the research, so I know a lot about what’s in store for someone who enlists. The truth is, a lot of kids were diagnosed with any of a handful of psychiatric issues, and I hear that as an excuse to not even try to enlist. The next step is to convince them to get a second opinion. Sara didn’t have this obstacle. “That actually sounds pretty ok.” “Yeah, it doesn’t hurt to go down and ask some questions.” “What would I have to do?” “You’d have to go to a recruiter’s office and give them some background info, then ask questions about what to expect and how to proceed. Your entire future in the service will depend on your ASVAB score, though, so you’ll want to be adamant about practice testing. Whatever you do, do not sign anything before you take the ASVAB because you don’t get to just choose where you want to go. If you test poorly, and you’re only qualified to pass out basketballs at the gym, that’s not going to be good. You need to test well if you’re going to get into medical.” “Where’s the recruiter?” “Man, I don’t know!” I looked it up on my phone to get some idea of where she needed to go, but as always, the best way to get someone to take that first step is to take it with them. “Are you working Monday?” “Yeah, at noon.” “This says the Navy office is open nine to six, weekdays. I say we get there at 8:45.” “You’re coming with me?” “If you don’t mind. The last time I sat down with a recruiter was about twenty-five years ago. I’m sure some things have changed since then, and I’d like the opportunity to ask some questions myself, since I’m talking to people about it now and then.” She dropped her head to conceal an unwanted smile. I offered to pick her up Monday morning. Maybe she’ll show; maybe she won’t. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. “Don’t be late,” she warned. And with that, she walked away. |
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