Memorial Day Hiking Excursion

Some pictures from my adventure Monday morning to the mountains north of Phoenix.

Gila Monster possibly? Its definitely a lizard

The view to the south. Downtown Phoenix is somewhat visible to the far right and I live and work just to the right (west) of it.

Mountains to the Southeast

Looking North-ish

Looking east

Ole!

Fell asleep last night to the sound of the Mexicans next door singing, and playing guitar.  It was surprisingly soothing despite their obvious inebriation.

You may not be aware, but DUIs do not necessarily have to be given for driving in cars.  The law apparently also applies to bicycles, horses etc.  We at Andre House would like to add power wheelchairs to the list.  The drunk power wheelchair operator is apparently not a rare occurrence here, and I was present for my first one this week (Unfortunately I did not witness it first hand).

In the parking lot, two people in wheelchairs got in a bit of an argument.  One was drunk and in a power chair, while the other was an elderly Russian woman in manual chair.  The drunk man eventually got fed up and began to drive away, except the Russian woman kept shouting at him in whatever English she knew.  In response, the man turned his wheelchair around and set a course directly for the woman.  Luckily, she was able to throw her bag of stuff in the path of the oncoming chair, which the man slammed into.  The woman started screaming, presumably in Russia, and the staff had to come in and restore order.

Fr. Eric recommended that if we are ever being charged by a drunk wheelchair driver, we should simply step to the side, pretend to wave a cape and shout Ole!

The Professor

In my previous work with the urban poor, I have been amazed by the gifts and talents they possess.  I discovered that despite the absence of economic means, many of them had developed incredible artistic, musical, and intellectual abilities.  Therefore, I am no longer surprised to find brilliance among the poor.  However, this week a met a guest that challenged some of my assumptions.  He is a middle-aged black man with a kind heart and a mouth that rarely stops talking.  He is lucid most of the time, but having a regular conversation with him requires some deciphering.  Therefore, I was shocked when I found out from other staff members that he used to be a college literature professor in New York.

  While none of the staff knows why he went from a professor to homeless, he is on medication, so he has likely struggled with mental illness. Learning about this guest has given me a new perspective on those with whom I work.  I see a concrete example of “there, but for the grace of God, go I:” a man, probably coming from a background similar to my own, who ended up on the streets.  His presence is a reminder that very little in life separates those serving dinner at Andre House and those being fed.  It is simultaneously refreshing and frightening to know how similar I am the guests.  Refreshing because our common humanity can allow us to establish deep relationships, but frightening in that circumstances out of my control could someday put me in their shoes.

Andre House- What We Do

The organization I am working with, Andre House, was started just over 25 years ago by two Holy Cross priests.  It is still run by the Holy Cross but has vastly increased the services it provides.  What started as soup served out of the back of a van is now an organization with three buildings (two transitional homes and the large outreach center).

The outreach center is the most visible part of Andre House's mission.  We serve dinner 6 days a week here for an hour with anywhere from 400 to 700 meals served.  Seeing as it is the end of the month (meaning disability checks, food stamps, and social security that were mailed at the beginning of the month have run out now for many people), we have been above 650 meals almost every day this week.  25-30 volunteers come every night in addition to the staff in order to prepare the meals.  Seeing as each day has a different set of volunteers, I been introduced to a new set every day, and definitely need to work on names!

In addition to the meal, Andre House is open during the day to provide a variety of other services for the homeless or impoverished in the area.  We offer laundry, showers, hygiene products, medicine, telephones, and a clothing closet, all entirely free.  Most importantly, in my opinion, we offered shaded benches outside and seating inside to keep people cool.

Pictures!

I just got done with my first Friday staff meeting, which is usually a three hour affair or so.  We went out to breakfast this morning as well, which was very nice.

Here are some pictures of where I live

"Mom's House" where I live with 5 staff members and the other summer service folks (the priests  and brothers live  separately)

My corner of my room. I am right next to the kitchen which would be a problem considering  a number of the other staff are early birds, except that my body is still on East Coast time and has been waking up at 6.

Downtown Phoenix from the backyard

closer view of downtown

Downtown at night ( it is much prettier in person)

The Line

At college, I share a bathroom with 50 other men.  Needless to say, it is not exactly the cleanest facility.  I shower in flip-flops, am selective about which toilet to use, and occasionally have to walk around the remnants of the weekend's festivities.  Many of my friends are horrified when they hear with how many people I have to share a bathroom.  It could be worse though.

The other day I had the job of portering during my morning shift.  The Porter sits outside in the Andre House parking lot and receives any donations that arrive, ensures that only legal activities are occurring (no, I have not had to play narcotics officer yet), and talks to the guests.  Towards the end of my shift, I was surprised at how few  guests were still in the parking lot.  I checked outside the gate and found most of the guests had moved onto the sidewalk, where squares are painted that facilitate the process of lining up guests for services.  It was 11:45, but the guests were already lined up to get a shower at 1.  They were waiting over an hour in Phoenix's summertime heat to get a shower.

That's not all.  They are limited to ten minutes to shower, and have a stranger knock on their stall door to alert them to the time.  Depending on their position in line, a number of other homeless (read: dirty) people shower before them, with only a quick mop job of bleach water on the floor between each person. To sum it up: to get a shower, you wait over an hour outside for ten minutes in a stall used by stranger and cleaned by amateurs.  I now appreciate my dorm showers a bit more.

In other news:
I received a lesson in bra sizes when I worked the Clothing Closet yesterday.
The other summer intern who is here got proposed to yesterday by a guest.  The guest got down on one knee with a juice bottle cap and asked to join her in "mattress money."  We agreed he had probably forgotten his meds that morning.

You want what?

The previous journal entry was a tad depressing, so to balance things out here's the funniest story from my first day.
A woman came into the office, sat down, and asked for "hygiene products."  Being new, I had no idea what she specifically wanted, since the entire cabinet behind me was chalk full of an immense variety of hygiene products.  My best guess was that her lack of specificity was because she was politely asking for some kind of feminine hygiene products, so I dived into the feminine products box.  Having a grand total of no experience in the world of feminine hygiene products, I decided to find the most basic product I could and then see if I could elicit an elaboration on what else she needed.  I grabbed some kind of feminine napkin, placed it in front of her, and waited expectantly.  She glanced at it, laughed, and said "I am well beyond that stage"
OK then.
Turns out "hygiene products" means a bag full of the basics like toothpaste, soap, and shampoo.  And now I am a bit more familiar with that feminine hygiene box.

Journal 1

Pre note: this is the first of my 16 reflections that I have to submit to the SSLP office as part of my course requirement.  Yes, my motives are not entirely pure. I get 3 credits and $3000 in scholarships for my time here this summer

Having volunteered extensively at a drop-in center during high school, I felt I was exceptionally prepared for eight weeks of work at the Andre House.  While I certainly knew I would be challenged, especially in terms of responsibilities I would hold, I thought I had a solid foundation in working with the urban poor.  I never would have expected that a situation would leave me frozen with no idea how to respond; at least not in the first hour of my first day of serving.  However, this is precisely what happened when a Native American woman burst into the Andre House, asked to make an emergency phone call, and then burst into tears.

I have never been comfortable around people when they get emotional.  I am at a loss for action even if it is one of my close friends who is crying, especially if it is something that is out of my control.  This woman was someone I had never even met, let alone befriended, so all I could do was awkwardly postpone any sort of response.  Luckily, one of the other staff members had remained with me, and she took action.  She did her best to comfort the woman, but we realized there was little either of us could do, since the woman was upset over the untimely death of a close friend.  Nevertheless, the staff member continued to offer her tissues, ask her about her friend and gave her a big hug when neither of the woman’s two phone calls connected.

The staff member did next to nothing to change the woman’s situation, but she was consoled by the listening ear that was offered.  However, this is the greatest act she could have done; in fact, it is the greatest act I can do in my time in Phoenix.  I now see that listening is essential because it the only act that will make a true difference in individual lives.  I do not have the resources to single handedly lift individuals out of poverty, or even do much to improve their standard of life beyond what the Andre House already does.  However, by listening and letting them know I care, I can alleviate their suffering for a brief moment.  If I can learn to do only one thing affectively in my time here, I hope that it will be to listen as my fellow staff member did.

Day 1

At the beginning of my first day here, one of the staff members related a number of stories of how she fell asleep in ridiculous places after a long day working at the Andre House.  I scoffed at her weakness as she talked about falling asleep in a stairwell at 7:30.  Now, after my first day, I realize that will probably be me some day.

I went to a beautiful Mass as the basilica in downtown Phoenix. I received a tour of Andre House, which is a massive facility.  I met a ton of people and saw no one who I knew before yesterday.  I worked the front desk, helping a man whose trailer had burned down the week before, a mother who had just arrived in Phoenix with her son and nothing but a car, and a woman who had lost a good friend (actually see my next post for how that actually went).  I stood outside for two hours handing out 509 meal tickets for dinner at the House.  I had dinner outside at the transitional houses that the staff also operates.  And this was technically my day off!

Phoenix is an intriguing city.  I have been most impressed so far with how it serves its homeless population.  Sometime ago, the city decided to centralize and consolidate the majority of poverty services in one area.  Thus the Campus was born, of which Andre House is a member.  Probably a dozen different agencies provide outreach in this multi-block area just west of downtown.  Instead of having to trek all over town, the poor have practically all their needs serviced in one neighborhood.  Talk about convenient!

Dallas

I am sitting in the Dallas Airport, after having an entire row to myself for most of the flight from Cleveland. My inability to sleep in moving vehicles kept me awake the whole flight, but luckily I had a really good Mitch Albom book.  A woman across the terminal is talking on her cell phone, alternating between English and Spanish, reminding me how much my Spanish needs to improve in order to have an actual conversation.

At this point, I really do not know into what I am getting myself. I probably should have read the primer on my duties that Fr. E sent to me a bit more thoroughly, and while now would be a good time to catch up, the Dallas Airport does not have free Wifi.  Lame. (I am actually posting this a day after writing it). Since I have no idea how busy I will be, I have no idea how often I will be posting.  My guess is two to three times per week, and I will probably default to posting some of the stories on which I have to reflect for my assignments.

Here’s what I do know about what I am getting into: I am spending eight weeks volunteering at Andre House in downtown Phoenix.  Andre House provides social services to thousands of people weekly, ranging from food and shelter to shower and laundry facilities.  Three other college students will eventually be joining me, in addition to the army of local volunteers and the Holy Cross priests and brothers who run Andre House.  I will be living with them (the religious guys) in a house about a mile north of Andre House. O yeah, and it is summer in Arizona so it is going to be hot!

Thanks for your patience!

I do not have internet at Mom's House (the home I live in), so I will be doing all of my posting during breaks at Andre House (granted the network here is really temperamental so we will see how well this works) .  I have already written a couple so I will am going to inundate you with reading now, and just pretend that you are reading them over the course of a few days!