Tag Archives: homeless

As I was walking toward Harkins Theatres at ChrisTown Spectrum Mall, a friendly voice said, “Hi! How are you doing?” It belonged to this lady, sitting next to this car. She is Jen, and she is one of the people who pick up loose trash that lazy people couldn’t be bothered to throw away in appropriate receptacles. “It’s not the homeless,” she says. “Homeless people pick up after themselves.”

I held up my plastic bag, full of wrappers that held the snacks and lemonade I bought at Wal-Mart, which opens before the rest of the mall does. “Wal-Mart trash!” said I, referring both to the stuff in the bag, and people like me who shop at Wal-Mart.

Jen had a lot to say about how the homeless are mistreated, “basically being shooed around” by the police and other authority figureheads. I told her the sad story of Adam Vespoli, who had been shooed off a freeway underpass, then off a Valley Metro bus, and then, tragically, into an early demise by the City of Phoenix Police Department. (See my blog post “Five Stars for One of Them Was Mine by Susan Vespoli” for more details.) Her face went sad. She understood the injustice, and the way homeless people are vastly misunderstood, neglected, and abused.

“I talked to a Lyft driver about homelessness. HE told me ‘homelessness is a choice.’ Made me mad. He didn’t get any tip from me!” Jen also talked to one of the ChrisTown security guards, a new hire who seemed to think that the homeless were part of the trash-mess. “I set her straight on that. Part of my job is educating people.”

I thanked Jen for giving back to the community, raising the quality of local lives and helping make our community more civilized. I told her I’d make a blog post of our conversation, in hopes that it would educate more people about the plight of the homeless. Lastly, I took a picture of her and her company car, thanked her for a wonderful conversation, and wished her well.

Friends, if you are a Valley resident who wants to similarly contribute to Civilization, Jen’s company is hiring. See the number on the side of her car!

“Taylor” a poem by Elizabeth Valenzuela

May 18, 2022

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Once again Elizabeth Valenzuela renders in poetic form a true slice of struggle and fulfillment in the world of the Unhoused.

Taylor
by Elizabeth Valenzuela

The woman met Taylor
During her visits with Dale at
Affifa’s Adult Family Home

He sat on the front porch every Sunday
Reviewing the Sunday Advertisements
A magnifying glass in his hand

But still wearing his only pair of
Eyeglasses
Both lenses shattered and yellowed with age

Dale would sell him one cigarette for a dollar
When Taylor asked him for one
But only if he was feeling generous

The woman started handing Taylor
Cigarettes behind Dale’s back
Sometimes one or two cigarettes and
On special occasions
A full pack

In return Taylor
Who always had a pocketful of
Werther’s caramels
Would slyly pass her a caramel
When she walked past him on her way out

After Dale died
The woman continued to stop by and see Taylor

He had never had a visitor in all the years he lived there
Having been previously unhoused
This is how the friendship started and it
Continued after James moved into
Dale’s old room
Serendipity in action
Déjà vu on display

In December Taylor showed her an ad
A remote control race car
He said he was Saving money to buy one

Santa brought him one for Christmas
He and James played with that remote control car

Then Taylor had a heart attack

He was taken to the hospital
He was unresponsive
He was in a coma for many weeks
No family came forward

The Hospital petitioned the Court to remove
Life support
Only the woman that stopped by for a daily visit
Stood vigil by his bed

The day the Court Order was issued
They transferred him to another room
And with him his photo
And information the woman had posted

So the hospital staff
Would know that Taylor was loved

The next few days
The woman sat by his side
Gently holding his hand
And telling him that she would be there if he lived
And that he would be ok
If he went
Toward the love
That was Waiting for him
On the other side

That it was all good
That he was loved

He was perfectly still in that hospital bed
Machines had been unplugged two days prior

One tear fell down his face
Silence
As the woman leaned in
To kiss his forehead

The next morning when she stopped by
His bed was empty

James and Taylor at Affifa’s Adult Family Home playing with Taylor’s remote control car

“James,” a poem by Elizabeth Valenzuela

May 13, 2022

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2022 0513 james headshot

Note: Both “James” and the preceding poem “Dale” featured in my last blog post are collaborations. Elizabeth Valenzuela and I have known each other for more than half a century. When I rented a car and made a road trip to the Great Northwest recently, Elizabeth arranged for my lodging in Seattle, and we had many conversations during my stay. Time and again, when Elizabeth told me of her work with the homeless (whom she calls “unhoused”–I probably will too once I get used to it), I thought to myself, “I really should have an audio recorder going.” Before I left Seattle I did a draft of the poem “Dale.” Elizabeth read it and made some important revisions, correcting errors of fact and providing more context, and contributed the photos of Dale’s memorial leaf and the pic of them both. Then she wrote a draft of “James,” adopting the style I’d used for “Dale,” and then it was my turn to revise, mostly for cadence and consistency with “Dale.” When Elizabeth asked me to post “James” to my blog I told her I would need to use her name, since she was the author. She graciously gave me permission to do so.

James
by Elizabeth Valenzuela

Two weeks after Dale passed
Dr. Goodman called the woman
Who had brought Dale to her

“Would you be willing to meet James
After you have taken the time to recover
From Dale?”

The Doctor had known Dale
When he was wild
Well before he became “Sweet Dale”
Under the woman’s care

The woman took a deep breath
And she said “I’ll meet him this week.”

So James became the new Dale.

James had no known family
Unhoused
Body and brain ravaged
By Huntington’s

James was kind and sweet

He called the woman Hot Lips
(His ashes were laid to rest under an evergreen
Perennial Salvia, commonly known as “Hot Lips”)

He smoked constantly

He walked away
From his new Adult Family Home
Any number of times
At all hours of the day and night
The police drove him home a few times

He loved all things baseball
The Mariners especially
But smokers were not allowed
To smoke at Mariners games

So James swore to stop
If the woman took him to a game
Had his last cigarette
Before he boarded the train

And got a Mariner’s Jersey and hat
And a seat at the game
And never smoked again
Never even had to be reminded of his promise

Back from the game
He was transferred to a secure house
Which was for Level 3
Sex Offenders

James was not a sex offender
But housing
For the terminally ill unhoused
Was scarce

The woman went to see him
Every other day
Put on a brave face
Made it clear
That James was off limits
And she was most definitely off limits

James was languishing
Forlorn in body and spirit

The woman found him another placement
That would provide hospice care
When the time came

And James loved his new place
And thrived

The woman found James a program
That provided transportation
To an Activity Center twice a week
Where he found a girlfriend
Then promptly had to be medicated
To stop the hypersexuality
That is sometimes associated
With movement disorders such as his
Huntington’s Chorea

He was young and enjoyed this
Time in his life

Then James needed hospice care

He died peacefully
Curled up on his side
Next to the woman
Who kept vigil

A van came at 1:00 a.m.
They put James in a black body bag
And he was gone

Afterword

About James: he was born in 1978, possibly in Pennsylvania or Indiana. His full name is James Hamilton Sparks.

Huntington’s Chorea is a genetic disease. If a person has it, their offspring have a 50-50 chance of getting it as well. The most famous American to be so afflicted was Woodie Guthrie. His son Arlo was spared his affliction.