“To be homeless in America today,” professes one well-known entertainer, “you

either have to be lazy or mentally ill.”

Convincing though it may sound, it’s not true. Characterizations like these not

only typify but perpetuate the harassment and discrimination faced by the poor

and the homeless on a daily basis.

Attorneys who pursue any rights at all for the homeless are nearly non-existent—

limited to television, film, and fiction. Although some may agree privately and

“off the record” when an injustice occurs, most are unwilling to do battle with

any “policy” that has been instituted by any agency. Most will tell you that you

can’t sue. You’ll just have to live with the devastation you’ve experienced.

Worse, the policies that brought it about are still there, waiting for the next unsus-

pecting person who happens along. “Policy,” it seems, all too often supersedes

people now, even in America, and basic human rights only exist for those wealthy

enough to afford a lengthy legal battle.

There’s Victoria, who lost everything—her whole life—because of a powerplay

motivated by political retribution. Someone deliberately set out to destroy her.

they succeeded. She became homeless. Now, few are even willing to believe

her story.

A GS-11? Homeless?

Her credentials are impressive and her mind and wit are as sharp as ever. She’s

even kept her sense of humor, though, she says, she’s getting frustrated.

She was a Contracts Specialist for the Navy Department. After 20 years, her

position was terminated.

Lazy? Mentally ill?

Not even close. The lady has rolled up her sleeves, donned workman’s boots,

and you’ll find her doing construction work, now, every day, in the hot sun.

She’s made enough to get a room before winter comes.

Admirable, yes. But her homelessness is an injustice that should never have

happened in the first place—and one that, to this day, has seen no recourse

at all. She may soon have an existence, now, but her life is still gone, and no one

has done anything to set it back on course.

Does anyone care? In Victoria’s case, no one dares to care. Those showing

interest on her behalf stand only to lose, placing themselves at risk. They, too,

may become similar targets. Her destruction was, after all, perfectly legal.

Government positions are terminated all the time.

Tough luck—but isn’t it only one unfortunate tale of hardship? We all know

that not many of the homeless are like Victoria—intelligent and hard-working—

are they?

How about Jonathan? Jonathan, too, is homeless. He’s a devout Christian—

a loving grandson who once owned a condominium jointly with the grandmother

who raised him. They even had a little money saved for a rainy day.

The nightmare that led to Jonathan’s homelessness began a few years earlier,

when social services arrived at his door, uninvited, and using what Jonathan

found to be grossly inaccurate data, ordered his grandmother sent to an adult

day care center. It happened only because she had accidentally locked herself

out one day while Jonathan was at the grocery store—something that

occasionally happens to all of us, young and old, one would think. It ended

in Jonathan’s being stripped of everything he owned—his home, his money,

and his van.

Somewhere in the middle of the nightmare, Jonathan’s grandmother was

even sent back home to stay, because those at the nursing home refused

to change her diaper. Jonathan says he was promptly billed anyway--$81,000

worth. All of their joint accounts were completely depleted, leaving him

virtually penniless when his grandmother finally died.

Jonathan did have a full-time job, however, and for a while, at least, thought

he would have no problem holding on to the condominium. Then things got

even worse.

The boss told him he would be getting no paycheck, one day, following his

entire week’s work. Jonathan explained that he, too, had bills to pay. He tried

to remain diplomatic. It was to no avail. The scenario was even repeated

on yet another occasion. No paycheck.

Nor was it, ostensibly, any shaky operation. The position Jonathan held was

that of a full-time landscape gardener for a well-known business in the area—

a family business that is still in business. No one there is homeless, except for

Jonathan.

What do you do when there is no check for you on payday? Jonathan was

forced, soon afterwards, to sell his condo.

There were other jobs, of course, both before and after that. His job at a

major area grocery store was one of them. It only paid him a small amount,

however—not enough to help.

He’d had his own full-time landscaping business, earlier, too, but gave it up

to care for his grandmother. Furthermore, while he was still employed

as a landscape gardener, he obtained a degree in nursing—his specialty

was the care of Alzheimer’s patients.

Armed with this background and having earned even the respect and

admiration of several nurses at an area hospital for the excellent and

commendable care he had taken of his grandmother before her death,

Jonathan applied and was immediately accepted for full-time employment

at a well-known local nursing home. Unfortunately, he was already

homeless at that time.

“You’re hired,” Jonathan said he was told. He was one of the best

applicants they’d had, and he was told to report for work the very

following Monday morning.

Then: “This can’t be your address?” Jonathan said he was asked by

a staff member at the nursing home. The address Jonathan had given,

having no other, was that of his church.

“You’re homeless, aren’t you?” Jonathan was asked. “I know where

you’re coming from,” he was then told sympathetically, “but I’m

sorry—we can’t hire you after all.”

Lazy? Mentally ill? Or blatantly discriminated against?

These people, most of the homeless, do not have friends or family to

help them out, even with so little as a borrowed address in their

time of need. Perhaps the crucial difference in their lives and the

one often directly resulting in their homelessness is exactly this:

when most of us turn to family or friends, the homeless often have

no one.

Like Jonathan and Victoria, the pretty, dark-haired lady who

habitually sleeps at a local airport once had a steady job. She was

employed by a major department store chain. She had her own

house and a storage unit, where, she said, she had stocked little

things she’d found on sale—things to sell in the gift shop she hoped

to open once she retired. It would provide her some income in her

later years, she said.

The two connecting busses which se had to ride to work every day frequently

missed one another, leaving long waits for the next transfer. So long and

so frequent, in fact, that finally, she was fired.

She lost everything—her home, her storage unit, and her hoped-for future

retirement plans. She wasn’t even permitted on the premises of her storage

facility to attend the auction of her own life’s worth of treasures, she said.

Although this practice is not limited to those on the streets, discrimination

of a real sort did rear its ugly head once she sought, with “no fixed address,”

to obtain her driver’s license. She was told it can not be done. No address?

No driver’s license.

“How,” she asked with a hint of indignant frustration, “am I supposed to

apply for a job with no identification? I need my driver’s license for

identification, if for no other reason.”

Perhaps one of the more fortunate, she has an attorney who is willing to

file suit in the matter.

It won’t restore her belongings. It won’t restore her life or even her

dignity. It may get her the operator’s license she so desperately wants

and needs, and, lacking only an address, has so far been denied. Not much

to ask, you would think, but too much, apparently, for a system replete

with policies that discriminate against the homeless.

There are those who will tell you that there are little tricks around such

obstacles. You can lie. You can use a non-existent address. You can

use an obsolete address. You can use a shelter address.

There are those, on the other hand, who just won’t do that. They refuse,

believing that their rights as human beings do or should supersede

policies and rules.

What we have heard, here, so far, barely scrapes the surface. It is

only a small sampling of the newest homeless Americans.

Most here are near 50, give or take. Jonathan is 41. None are drinkers

or drug-users.

And—oh yes—there’s Clint. Clint was just one of the many economic

casualties of “9/11.” A soft-spoken and very polite man, Clint is

educated in the hotel/motel industry. He even held an educational grant

from a highly respected hotel chain.

“When the airport closed,” he says, “it affected the hotel trade.”

Clint’s entire department was terminated. He’s homeless, now, too.

HOMELESS IN AMERICA, PART I

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