Archive for the ‘homelessness’ Category

Chairs

Monday, February 21st, 2011

Chairs

by

Fay Ulanoff

††††††††††† Terrance Nebly slid open the glass door to his back yard in order to have a bit of solitude.

††††††††††† He moved one chair close to the other to rest his feet from the day.

The chairs were comfortable enough to accommodate his big bottom, if he could just settle in and wrap his mind around his plan for the rest of the afternoon, or would he have to tend to his responsibility of the key keeper to the apartments he rented so quickly to those hasty people on welfare, or maybe go with his passion, and pen the Great American Novel

††††††††††† All was quiet, as he escaped the sun by closing his eyes behind a large pair of goggle eyed sunglasses.

††††††††††† The moment was his and his alone, but his stomach felt empty.

††††††††††† Lunch time had passed him by while he munched down on a dark chocolate candy bar, worrying with every bite. Would there be enough time to rinse his teeth from the ever threatening twenty minute limit before tooth decay.† Because experts have said that if you donít brush your teeth, or at least pass water over them, you will be doomed. And Terrance Nebly felt harried and feared he might become a toothless wonder and not be able to pay the exorbitant costs of a dentist worth receiving it.

††††††††††† His thoughts were interrupted by a woman and her young son walking around his back patio requesting the key to their new apartment.†

††††††††††† Terrance pushed his way up from his comfy chair and told them to wait there for a moment until he returned to his own lodging to get it.

††††††††††† He shuffled in his slippers through the door and glanced back to the two chairs heíd left vacant in the yard, that were, just a moment before, his refuge, were now inhabited by these strangerís bottoms.

††††††††††† Well thatís just great, he thought as he retrieved the keys which were hanging on a big brown wooden board in his kitchen.

††††††††††† Oh, here they are.† Iím glad that didnít take to long because you never know who you can trust in these desperate times, especially people such as those two, who are already needy and down on their luck.

††††††††††† The woman smiled as she stood up, pulled her boy to his feet. ìThank you so much.† This really means a lot to us.† I mean getting in our apartment early, what with my ex boyfriend out on bail and him chasing me from one place to the other.î

††††††††††††Now Iíll really†have something to worry about.† I wish I had rented the apartment to the retired nurse, on Social Security and a pension. At least that was a fixed income.† But I assumed that someone on the dole would be a guaranteed.† Well I suppose Iíll just have to keep an eye on them, because if anything happens, this complex could get a bad name.† Then my free-lance days as a writer would be over and I along with my new tenants would be, without a place to live and me minus an income.

††††††††††† Well I better show these two to their new front door and get back to my chairs, then figure out what to do for the rest of the day, because this decision might be a life changer.

†

Posted in homelessness, Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

On the Road With Su Baru

Monday, October 25th, 2010

Who is Su Baru? and Where has she been?

Hooked at first sight. The flaming red head stood out in the crowd of her peers. Her classic style drew me to her. She became the ward of my household. So lovely to look at, delightful to drive, she was all Iíd ever need. On the home-front she made quite an impression, so much so she was welcomed with offers of travel.

Her first adventure took her from the eastern plains of Colorado across the Rocky Mountains to the western slopes. ìLoved the mountain towns and the west-ness of Durango.î

Next, she was lured to a trip to the wild, wild, west territory of Denver for a few weeks. She says, ìIt's a nice place to visit, so much history and so many tourist things to do. Just a little too busy for me.î

Then came the short day trips up and down the Front Range and the cities and towns along I-25. †She attended many soccer games but I overheard her say, ìI prefer the serenity of the plains known as Evans.

She sometimes wondered if she were homeless...but alas she found her way.

Right now she's†reacquainting herself with parking space #4 on Ponderosa Court, and seems quite content. It's going to take her a few days to adjust to†her "old" schedule but she promises to bring her driver to visit writing colleagues every week possible.

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Posted in adventure, Helen Colella, Author, homelessness | 2 Comments »

Breathe

Saturday, July 3rd, 2010

Breathe.

Easier said than done when your heart is filled with trepidation; when every thing you have worked for has vaporized and there is no job, no hope of earning enough to pay the mortgage and are facing foreclosure. I know three women, ages 40 or over, that are dealing with this.

Last week, a neighbor was evicted from her home of 35 years. She is mentally ill, not adequately medicated, and is a ìrevolving door patientîódifficult for her family and professionals to manage. She was out in the driveway, muttering and weeping to herself as she attempted to sort the piles that the eviction moving team had left of her home. Here were her bookcases, there were her clothes, and somewhere in the maelstrom was the food from her cupboards. We tried to usher her into a local shelter, but she announced that she was going to sleep out there to keep away the thieves. I watched her make a nest†in the†laundry as her cats curled up†beside her.

Every homeless woman, man, child, or family starts this wayóevicted, alone, stuff in piles and no where to go, no more medication or resources to call upon. This was quite frightening to me. "But for the Grace of God went I" or every other person I have met this year at the Larimer County Workforce Center classes.

Breathe. Try to remember that you are working, that you are helping friends every way you can with job leads and supportive conversation. Hope will prevail. But, breathing in the face of that †womanís hopelessness is hard.

She eventually rounded up the most dear treasures and staples, and left the rest on the driveway. Yesterday, the bank sent another crew to pick it all up and put the dregs into a† bin. She was not there; I truly donít know where she is. SomewhereÖin Loveland. Starting over? Alone, dying? Frightened? Mad? Drenched? Hurt? Homeless.

I find myself breathing, with tears streaming down my face.

Breathe. Cry awhile. Breathe, again.

Posted in Cheryl Courtney, Writer, Gratitude, homelessness, Life Event | 2 Comments »