 Drawing by Alex Graves Age 6 | The Magazine March 2005 A publication of The Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless 907 Logan Avenue Cheyenne, WY 82001-5247 307-634-8499 fax: 307-634-9089 © 2005 email: wch@vcn.com |
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Sarah Hughes Photo by Michael P. Warrener
I wish that I could make you see I am often frightened, scared and sad. People often say, "get a job you lazy jerk." Thee is a big misconception, we are not dumb. You think we are dirty and obscene. I'd like to plan an education seed. We've seen the world, some of us like to roam. We're only homeless.  Homeless Outreach In Cheyenne Virginia Sellner Photos by Michael P. Warrener and Kildee Herring
A response to this article indicated that this happens more than one cares to admit, and this is why it is so vital to have homeless outreach, coalitions and advocates to follow up on these situations. This, of course, is oh so true. We, in Cheyenne, are lucky - we have recently gotten an outreach worker who is officially with the CrossRoads Homeless Health Care Clinic, but works with all agencies -- ours in particular - in finding the assistance that these individuals need. He does a remarkable job of checking on the people who are sleeping under bridges, in tunnels, in their cars in alleys and behind businesses and linking them up with the assistance they need (or want). He also checks regularly on these same people, making sure they survive a cold night, get the medical help they need after an altercation and they don't end up like the gentleman in the article.
Hey, I'm your high livin' hobo, I ride the high line in the summer Well I'm crazy 'bout my baby, I'm your high livin' hobo, On that third an fourth unit I/m your high livin' hobo, Virginia Sellner
They come in groups, They want a break from the road, Talented and smart, Often insecure, Looking for work, Les Barney The wind blows constantly Gordon Temple 1943-1997
The road knocks on your door Lynda Harris One lone boot beside the rack Lynda Harris Bo Jangles is a married man By grom Coping and healing is my sole business. I shall excel. Marc D. Goldfinger First published in Earth First! July-August 2004 Right now, The ocean spills over the beaches of Tuvalu, reciting poetry, the families sinks under the rising waves. right now Ella Lee Waggoner
Billy The Noodle King Reprinted with permission from The Denver VOICE, February 2005, Volume 10, Issue 2 Beef Stir Fry
Place Ramen into boiling water for two minutes. Then drain the water off. Chop Beef Steak up and place into frying pan with butter. Add green bell pepper, onion, one pack stir fry seasoning, and fry until beef is done. Add Top Ramen to the Beef Stir Fry and mix together thoroughly and serve… Serves Two Tofu Stir Fry
Place Ramens into boiling water for two minutes. Then drain the water off. Place all ingredients into frying pan and fry until done Serves Two By Freddy Bosco Reprinted with permission from the Denver VOICE February, 2005 Volume 10. Issue 2 How I love my Barbi! Flawless complexion. Just a hint of blush. She does something to her hair that takes my breath away. I find it nearly impossible to look directly at her whenever she is near. We make a room small, so small nobody else can pay attention to what they are doing, when we match my shyness with her disgust. Nobody can even breathe and they blame it on me. All my life I've looked for her. The minute I first laid eyes on her I knew she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her sister introduced us at McDonald's. I told her every joke I knew. I danced all around her with words. I wanted her to take me back with her to the top of the mountain where I think she comes from: Mount Olympus, home of goddesses. She just smiled and said nothing. But, I knew that she knew everything and she was just being patient with me. I got tongue tied. I felt I had said too much. I offered her another medium orange drink. She declined. The way she said no, I knew she had everything, needed nothing, and had thousands of guys always giving her things, better things than just a waxed paper cup of ice cubes and soda. What could I give her? I would give her anything she wants. But she is one of the goddesses. Just right: every hair in place and whatever she wears is perfect on her. It's always just this: you couldn't think of anything better on her. It's like that with her car. Her car is a color that includes the luster of gold with the brilliance of platinum. It fits her that her car should knock you out. It defies description. Nobody else could look that good in that car, or in the Levi's she wears. She put herself up someplace and it is, or was until they told me about her, a shrine. I confess, I got to a point that I almost hated to know she was around. She was too much to look at and she knew it. She wrapped herself in barbed wire, my Barbi. She shoots sparkles at anybody like me who gets anywhere near her. I have to admit that I want to have her near or be near her. Always. I think she knows how much she means to me. Like she knows she could never actually be anything more to me than a fabulously beautiful toy. Then I found out about her. They told me she's completely empty. The Perfect Woman is empty. She puts everything into the way she looks, her hair, her car. She has no time for herself, on the inside. She never says anything. I filled up the silence for her with everything in my mind and heart. But I was just putting words in her mouth. There were never any there, in her mouth, to begin with. Just two bright, white, expensively rows of teeth to smile with, chew with, to bite with. Now there's this waitress down on Broadway. I'll bet she could really cut the mustard. You look in her eyes and you can see that there's somebody home. When she smiles, however, (I know a guy who nearly threw up at the sight) she's got a bicuspid gone. I mean, what are you supposed to think? Anybody can go to the dentist in this country. The missing place looks awful. But I see a picture. You put in a tooth, then you've got to do something about the moustache. Then you don't want that extra five pounds towards the rear... on and on. When did I decide I wanted a Barbi? One of my own. Who told me that? I don't know, but I believed it. Until I found one. Now it seems like I want...I don't know. Not Barbi. I thought she was...I thought she had to be as beautiful inside as she was outside. She had to be. Doesn't it all go together? I got real mad at Barbi, when I discovered that she was just a doll. Perfect, plastic, hard, empty. I got so mad I decided I would go see the waitress. I guess I will. But that tooth! Gigi Brooks Clouds halo the mountain peaks.  Drawing by Frank Boneith  Drawing by Tom Driggers February 3, 2005 (New Orleans, LA)-For over two years, Clayton Carpenter was homeless. He drifted from Mississippi to California using "ground-found" materials-pencil stubs and paper of all sorts to draft Shadow of Turning. As he ventured from inner city streets to remote wooded areas, he continued to write. He used discarded foil or plastic to wrap his work for protection against inclement weather. Motivated to see his novel published, he returned home to New Orleans where he re-entered the work force and spent his spare time polishing the novel. Shadow of Turning has now been published by iUniverse, Inc., a leading provider of publishing technology solutions for authors. A Novel by Clayton Carpenter Ever been so angry you couldn't sleep? Ever been lied about, but you couldn't make it right? Ever want revenge on the people who did it? Ben Kelly is tormented every day by such questions. During his youth, poverty, family violence and abuse cut into him like a razor. But he survives these things along with a thuggish adolescence, and through force of will he becomes successful as a professional. At the apex of his career, he is struck with slanderous accusations about his character. Trusted friends slither through clouds of deception to attack. The career he fought so hard to attain is left in shambles. Then, people around him start to die in a variety of "accidents" as he experiences close calls himself. Is there a connection between the deaths and his former bosses, who are people who will stop at nothing to protect their interests? If so, what can he do about it? His only option is to confront powerful people who are adept at using the law to their advantage. Will his thin veneer of sophistication hold up under the pressure, or will old thoughts and ideas resurface to trigger unpredictable behavior? If his actions become extreme, how far will he go? Practically penniless and fearful of losing his grip on sanity, he forces himself on, battling to stay alive while seeking answers. His unique path through hard circumstances leads him down a perilous road of action across three Southern states. Shadow of Turning ISBN: 0-595-66507-1(cloth) and ISBN: 0-595-32199-2(pbk.) can be previewed by readers at www.claytoncarpenter.com. About the author: Clayton Carpenter's background includes work as a bouncer, a high-climbing industrial carpenter, a teacher and a guidance counselor. Not long ago, he was homeless for over two years. It was then that he wrote Shadow of Turning. Most of that period was spent in remote wooded areas. Coming from a rural background, he knew how to stay alive in nature and some of his survival techniques were adapted for the main character. When asked how experiencing homelessness affected the writing of his novel, Mr. Carpenter said, "We learn to be whoever we are. What we learn impacts our thinking and point of view. Learning from a prolonged survival situation gives one a different kind of voice for writing." Another question involved whether he would ever revert back to his homeless condition. He responded, "It depends. I'm not afraid of being there again. Whether it will happen, I just don't know. I can say that I wouldn't trade those years for any amount of money." Clayton Carpenter spends most of his free time in wilderness areas. When not hanging out in nature, he lives in New Orleans with a rough looking orange cat of undetermined heritage. Shadow of Turning is his first novel. Jack Tafari http://dignityvillage.org Reprinted from Street Roots Portland, OR February 11, 2005 Open letter to the World Bank It all started when Israel Bayer who I knew as Street Roots' creative director asked if I'd like to speak at the Crisis Innovation's Fair 2004 in London in the UK which he'd learned of through Michael Stoops who he knows at the National Coalition for the Homeless in Washington, DC. Upon conferring with Dignity's Treasurer and outreach co-coordinator Tim McCarthy who some know as tight-fisted and "a bit of a Luddite" according to Amy Haimerl's feature article Pitching Tents in Denver's Westword magazine and attorney Marc Jolin who many know as Dignity's defender and Jo O'Rourke of the British charity Crisis UK who I knew from the contact information Israel provided about the hows and whys, I accepted the invitation to speak as a keynote speaker. The juxtaposition of keynote speakers at the conference was as startling as the venue at the ABN AMRO Bank in the heart of London's financial district was stunning. Who would have thought a poorly-educated Rasta and former doorway dweller would ever share a podium with a Harvard and Brown educated PHD senior social scientist of the World Bank? I know JAH who is my light and my salvation and who lifteth I up from the dust of the Earth and causeth I to sit at a table with Princes of Men is ever-living and all-powerful. And God alone guides our steps and protects His children. Not all of what Dr Woolcock said during his presentation of the "social capital" theory at the conference which guides WB policy I agree with, particularly the vertical linking up and down between those at the bottom and those at the top of the social order. Using the vertical metaphor of a ladder it seems many rungs for the poor to climb from our present location in social space to the top rung where Michael Woolcock is perched. My reasoning was to write Michael the accompanying letter and go straight to the top as we now know each other from the conference. Letter to the World Bank Dear Michael, My name's Jack Tafari and you might remember that we shared a podium at last October's CRISIS Innovations Fair on Homelessness and Social Exclusion in London, that we met and chatted over glasses of wine at Crisis' Skylight Café the night before the conference. The little village named Dignity where I come from and we talked about is poor at least in terms of monetary capital. We raise funding mostly by writing grants, a skill our grant-writing committee is just learning, and by passing the hat in various ways. We need funding to better serve our community and build the green, sustainable urban village of Our Proposal. Your presentation of the theory of social capital at the conference, Michael, was strong and compelling, an eye-opener to one such as myself. I see Dignity's formation now with different eyes and recognize our early bonding among next doorway neighbours for what it was in the terminology of the construct, also the networking across the wider community of our early campaign to gain support to extricate ourselves from those doorways and win sanction from the City. It really is in the power of who you know. My presentation went less well, I'm afraid, as I hadn't slept that well the night before. I'd spent the night on the streets of Brixton in S. W. London shivering under a market tarp on some cardboard I'd found due to a miscommunication with our hosts, something CRISIS UK rectified right away upon learning of it. Sleep deprivation is common enough among us homeless people who lack roofs over our beds. But be that as it may. I'm glad we had the opportunity to meet at the Skylight, Michael, as it establishes a link between our organizations and thought we might network a little as per your theory. I'm wondering if the World Bank would consider extending Dignity Village a capitalization loan of US $1,000,000 to purchase the land on which to build the magnificent eco-village we envision and have sought for so long. I should think you'd be proud to see your "social capital" model in action. You concluded your presentation by saying "The logic we believe we work to is that we start with an idea, debate the idea, try to measure it, and turn it into practice. A key part of moving forward is recognizing that it also flows the other way. At the World Bank, our directors sometimes spend a week in a village. After a week of going to collect water from a hole in the ground, some come back with the equivalent of a religious conversion and want to start basing policy on practice." On behalf of our directors whose council I chair, I'd like to invite you and your directors to spend a week in our village. We've had many distinguished visitors and guests including a US Presidential and Vice Presidential candidate and don't worry, Michael, you won't have to collect your water from a hole in the ground. Our village is built largely with the recycled scraps of what many people throw away and although the asphalt we live on blisters in the summer and floods in the winter, Dignity has the basic amenities. We could talk about the possibility of such a loan with your visit, its terms, work out repayment schedules and so forth. I wouldn't expect the equivalent of a religious conversion among your directors after spending a week in Dignity, but we could share great discussions about basing policy on practice. Warm regards, StreetViews, the Magazine is published by the Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless |
Recently there was a post on a homeless discussion list that I belong to about the unfortunate death of a homeless person sleeping under a bridge.
We (the Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless) have been able to provide help to so many people that we would not have otherwise been able to help without his outreach - we always have blankets, clothing, food bags, sleeping bags, bus tickets, prescriptions, IDs and other items that people sleeping out need or can use, but have fallen through the cracks in the past because they do not want to go into either the shelter or our day center - they remain hidden, except for his outreach . It is great to be able to coordinate and work closely and obtain assistance for those that have been, in the past, the forgotten homeless. Hopefully, his outreach will prevent homeless deaths in Cheyenne. It is a miracle that we have not had numerous deaths under the bridges in past years.
In the past the Police got called, and they did not always know what to do if the shelter would not
take the person. Because of his outreach he knows the "history" of a person and can aid in finding solutions. The police need to call on him when they find someone in a bad situation, he may already know the answer to the problem.
He is working for those in need - they come first and that's as it should be.
This man, Richard McCullough, is a most remarkable person and some day will have
a special place in Heaven.
Editor for this issue: Virginia Sellner.