Sunday, September 4, 2011

Letter to the Editor ~ Homelessness Revisited

(published in New Era Nov 2010)

Homelessness can be defined many ways by different people. Oregon’s Ending Homelessness Advisory Council’s definition of homelessness includes those who: “…share the housing of other persons due to loss of housing, economic hardship, personal safety, or a similar reason.” It is these definitions that help local agencies determine who gets services.
Recently my two children and I became homeless, displaced and transient. It happens to a lot of people in life. In our situation it was due to an impending divorce. Almost immediately I started rallying together whatever resources I could to try and make a break from the situation. I needed to know what to do next; because what was being offered seemed neither reasonable nor healthy. By most standards I am educated, capable and employable; so I could eventually rebuild a life for my two kids and I. Part of what complicated the issue was not just the children collectively, but I have a son who is partially blind and disabled. So I started making lists as to what all I needed to do to get us out of this situation. So I started calling friends, family members, church members and associates to see what ideas could be put together. Most of our family lived down South, so we were lacking in a local support network.

In the midst of this I mentioned to one of friends that the kids and I might have to possibly stay at The Hope Center here in town, or maybe somewhere in Albany. After more than a few conversations the friend and her husband made the offer for the three of us to rent a room from them. I was so hurt and depleted because of the circumstances that I took them up on their offer; and spent the next few days crying myself to sleep. I was happy we had not been relegated to living in our small car. However, as a mom needing to provide for her two children I felt that the temporary solution, however welcomed, still left us in a very vulnerable and precarious position. Local resource agencies that I contacted for help classified the three of us as being homeless. It was very hard to hear. Words like displaced and transient are perhaps a bit more palatable to accept in this scenario; yet the word homeless was still what each organization said. It was scary to realize that very little separated us from being on the streets; and it was sobering that it could all shift very quickly and without notice. It was only ten years ago, right after Jordan had been injured, we had lived in shelters for six months; and now the memories of such came flooding back.

As individuals we may have different ideas of what it means to be homeless. It is almost as if we think of homelessness in terms of levels. Some levels we are comfortable with, like displaced and transient; and other levels make us uncomfortable. I am not sure that there should be varying degrees of homeless. Our experience has been humbling, stringent and confining. After all, my children and I did not ask for this to happen; and that is true of the bulk of homeless situations. The question then is: should my kids and I have to be living under a bridge in order to get care and compassion? Of course the answer is no.

I write all of this, not just to help people redefine their ideas of homelessness, but also to get people to extend themselves to homeless people regardless of which level of homelessness they occupy. Positions like what my children and I experienced happen a lot more frequently than most people are willing to admit. The homeless are not only living in cars and under bridges; they sometimes have jobs and stand in line next to you at the grocery store.

Only a few weeks back I had notified our pastor that I wanted to be part of the team of volunteers that would be helping down at The Hope Center; and now weeks later my kids and I are struggling with the same needs and fears as other homeless people. We now rely on a handful of dear friends and many strangers. Some people have been very warm and supportive. But some people have told me not to tell people that we are homeless. I guess I should be embarrassed to admit such a thing. That sounds like pride; and pride has no place in this circumstance. Hopefully people will remember that the next time they encounter a homeless person and they are tempted to turn away. Pride and “keeping up appearances” actually helps to facilitate people becoming homeless in the first place.

We became homeless; and it was not of our own making. We needed help; but so too does every other homeless person out there in our community. Perhaps my daughter, my disabled son and I give atypical faces to homelessness; and if homelessness can happen to us then it can happen to anyone.

I would love it if we as a community would shift all of our preconceived ideas of what we think it means to be homeless and just love on those who are. If enough wonderful people in Sweet Home lend a hand to their neighbors or even contact City Council as to how they can help, we as a community can make a difference.

“Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles with the cold” Andre Maurois

Let me know how you are doing.


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If you need immediate assistance, dial 911. 
The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).

Born to unusual, but nice, parents, Michelle/Shelby grew up rather uneventfully, living mainly in the deep south (Alabama). Later she would learn that it was her parents' love for her that not only brought them together, but had kept them together. And so life was ideal in many respects and distressing in others. Eventually though the family did scatter like leaves on an autumn morning. Fortunately she was able to extract a sincere appreciation for love, beauty, and an abiding respect for those who at least try.

The single greatest influence in her life was the remarkable time spent with her paternal grandmother;  it was under this influence that she thrived. Her grandmother introduced her to not only fine Literature, but also the Arts and the Opera. And it was beloved grandmother who told her that if she wanted to be a great writer she must first learn to be an avid reader.

Early adult life would be peppered with indecision, failings, and the haunting of things not learned in childhood. But as is the case with most sincere artist, out of the angst of life came a great capacity for creativity.

Shelby considers her writing a gift...a joy, a tremendous responsibility, and something that helps to define her life.
Ms. Anderson is a graduate of Oregon State University; and is also currently working on a master's degree.

She lives in very picturesque Central Oregon with her two children.

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