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Formerly Homeless Find Hope at Haven
By Cathy Free
Deseret Morning News
The room is smaller than the average hotel room, simply furnished with a bed, a night stand and a kitchenette, but it feels like the penthouse suite at the Grand America to Stanley Neel.
After 24 years on the streets, "it feels like home," says the 41-year-old part-time construction worker, opening his blinds to take in the view of the Wasatch Mountains. "This is the first time in my life that I've ever had a place of my very own."
Stanley is a newcomer at Safe Haven, a west-side apartment residence for Salt Lake City's mentally ill homeless, run by Valley Mental Health. Outreach workers had tried to convince him for years to try the facility, and Stanley gradually agreed, dropping by every few days to do laundry in the center's community room and mingling with residents over cups of coffee.
Slowly, he began feeling comfortable with the place, and three weeks ago, he moved a small bag of belongings into an apartment. "This is a major step for me," says Stanley, "but the hard part is still ahead. I get panicky sometimes because I'm used to sleeping outside. And I'm still hearing voices inside my head. They tell me that I'm not good enough, that I don't deserve to live."
With help from medication and counseling at Safe Haven, Stanley is learning not to listen to those voices.
"I was 17 the first time I tried to commit suicide," he says softly. "My family didn't want anything to do with me after that. My goal now is just to feel happy with myself, to look in the mirror and say, 'You're an all-right guy.' Because I haven't felt that way in a long, long time." Eager to share his story and talk about the "miracles" that happen at Safe Haven, Stanley recently invited me to join him and his neighbor, Danny Beard, for a Free Lunch of Chinese takeout at the center.
After a lifetime of on-and-off homelessness, including months at a time when he slept in his car, Danny, 50, moved into a Safe Haven apartment about a year ago. Diagnosed with bipolar disorder, he can relate to Stanley's troubles because he also hears voices telling him he is "worthless."
"It's like a bad old AM radio, turning on and off inside my head," he says. "There's a stereotype of a homeless person walking around talking to himself, but it is somewhat true. You talk to yourself to drown the voices out. See, if you're talking, it's harder for them to talk, too."
Mental illness is said to affect about 30 percent of the homeless population, which means that places like Safe Haven are in demand.
"I tend to isolate myself, and they don't let me do that here," says Danny. "On a bad day, I can always find somebody to talk to. And for the first time in my life, I don't have to worry about getting kicked out because I can't afford the rent or because the time limit at the shelter has run out."
For most of their lives, he and Stanley haven't been able to hold down jobs or experience meaningful relationships because of their mental disabilities and problems with drugs and alcohol. Now the dream of living a regular life and one day moving out of Safe Haven into homes of their own doesn't seem so far away.
"I'd like to learn how to drive and I'd like to go fishing," says Stanley. "I feel like I've missed out on a lot, living on the streets. It's a slow process to work my way back, but I have a lot of people on my side here.
"I've been able to survive on the streets," he says. "Now it's time to live instead of surviving."
Domestic Abuse Victims Want Identities Protected CHICAGO (CBS 2) Victims of domestic violence feel like they're being beat up again, this time by the government. A group of women rallied Thursday to voice their concern that new regulations put their safety at risk, because with a click of a mouse, their whereabouts could be known.
A victim can go to a shelter tonight and have her personal information in a database by tomorrow, so that the abuser can find her right away on the World Wide Web and she's helpless yet again.
Organizers at the rally said the last thing these women need is to have their every move tracked.
A coalition of groups against domestic violence joined forces on the federal plaza. The women expressed their displeasure against the Department of Housing and Urban Development's Homeless Management Information Systems, or HMIS. The system makes it mandatory for homeless people and victims of domestic violence to report all of their confidential information if they're seeking transitional housing or emergency shelter.
"These databases will put victims of domestic violence in grave danger," said Cindy Southworth with the National Network to End Domestic Violence.
The efforts of these people mean a great deal to abuse victims like one woman, who asked us not to use her name. She fears her abuser may try to locate her.
"He's pistol whipped me. He's tried to shoot at me. Everywhere I go, no matter what it is, he always, eventually finds me. So it's real important not to give out this information, because they do try to find you," she said.
Several members of Congress have been very vocal about the issue. Representative Jan Schakowsky sent a letter to HUD Secretary Alphonso Jackson in Washington, saying there must be "alternative ways to obtain an accurate count" of the number of homeless people.
Schakowsky says making domestic violence victims report "their last place of residence and social security number" can put their safety in jeopardy.
Senator Dick Durbin is speaking out as well. "We're going to join with other members of our congressional delegation to let this, bush administration know, that this is a very bad decision. These are victims," he said.
As the women made their way to the HUD building at 77 W. Jackson Street, their rally soon turned into a demonstration.
The women demanded to see a representative of HUD. They got their wish.
"The one thing HUD is about is protecting people's rights and certainly, making sure that we put no one at risk. Our job is to help people," said Joseph Galvan, HUD midwest regional director
While Galvan said he would talk to his counterparts in Washington about the women's concerns, members of anti-domestic violence organizations nationwide called the White House today. They urged President Bush to make domestic violence exempt under HMIS.
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HOMELESS DATABASE MAY PUT ABUSE VICTIMS AT RISK
A new database of the homeless may actually put victims of domestic violence at risk.
The Department of Housing and Urban Development wants to compile a database to track homeless individuals, but since 50% of domestic violence victims are homeless, their abusers could have an easier way of finding them.
Organizations like A Woman's Fund in Urbana are urging citizens to call the White House Comment Line to voice opposition to the database.
Tami Tunnell, the executive director of "A Woman's Fund" says the problem is that once identifying information is put into a database, victims are no longer safe because databases can be hacked.
She says the databases can be accessed by people who are authorized users, but don't abide by confidentiality provisions.
If you'd like the White House Comment Line phone number, visit our website at www.wandtv.com, and click on sitewatch.
Then look under phone numbers.
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Homeless People Find Place Online
By Tricia Bishop
The Baltimore SunBALTIMORE -- David Kriss doesn't have a home or a regular place to sleep, but he's got several addresses all of them on the Internet.
The 34-year-old gets his mail electronically, he meets friends at virtual message boards, and he stores his ideas on several Web sites he's helped develop.
Homeless for the past year and a half, Kriss is part of a growing number of displaced people turning to the Internet for help, companionship and psychological release. While society's most disadvantaged members and the latest in communications technology may seem an odd fit, the Internet age has been a welcome advance for the homeless as computers have become more available in community centers, public libraries and the like.
"I use it for everything," Kriss said last week from a community computer lab at the nonprofit South Baltimore Learning Center.
A couple of other people sat at terminals in the bright room, one of the dozen or so computers. A few doors down the street, Kriss' stuff a couple of pairs of pants and some socks stored in a duffel bag was being watched by friends at the Enoch Pratt Free Library, which also offers Internet access gratis for limited periods.
"I play games sometimes when I'm bored, keep in touch," said Kriss his beard scruffy, but his hands and hazel eyes animated and active as he spoke about the wonders of the World Wide Web. "I'm homeless, I can't afford to call, but I can send an e-mail for free."
In recent years homeless people from Vermont to Hawaii have created online journals chronicling their experiences, set up message boards to help others find shelter and food and designed sites that offer a clearinghouse of survival information.
Service providers have picked up on the trend, creating Web pages that tell people how to get help and encouraging usage of free e-mail accounts from providers such as Yahoo and Hotmail. Earlier this summer, the U.S. Department of Labor launched a site designed for homeless people to criticism from some who found it ironic meant to help them find work. Among other electronic resources, a public-policy advocacy group based in Seattle called Community Voice Mail (www.cvm.org) offers free voicemail to homeless people in 37 cities in 19 states, including Virginia and Pennsylvania.
Although statistics on the number of homeless people using computers are difficult to come by, those who work with the homeless and the homeless themselves note an increased presence on the Web. The Labor Department's special Web site, for example, has received about 7,500 visitors since its launch in July.
People don't have to have a home computer, much less a home, to access the Internet, social-service workers point out. It's often available for free in public places such as libraries and homeless advocacy centers, said Roslyn Hannibal-Booker, director of Development at the Maryland Center for Veterans Education and Training in Baltimore. Her center offers housing help and skills development, including computer instruction, to homeless veterans, who make up about one-quarter of the 2 million to 3 million Americans with no place to live.
The biggest barrier to Internet usage is in the individual: Many homeless people suffer from disabilities, diseases and active addictions that make self-help difficult.
"For those more vulnerable or struggling just to know what day it is, this is not going to be a tool accessible to them," said Kevin Lindamood, spokesman for Health Care for the Homeless in Baltimore.
Lindamood's organization provides medical care and addiction treatment to the homeless. Its consumer advisory committee composed of current and former homeless people uses the Internet as its chief mode of communication, and clients of the association often use e-mail to reach staff.
The Internet has "become this great equalizer," he said. "It gives everyone access to information, in some respects, regardless of an individual's personal wealth or affluence."
Kriss, who is from Columbia, S.C., got into the Internet seven years ago, after suffering a heart attack, induced from crack cocaine use, he said.
His father bought him a computer to use during his recovery, and he quickly became obsessed, by his description. He spent days at a time teaching himself about the Internet and communicating with hackers. He said they taught him how to break into Web sites, which, in turn, also taught him how to protect them.
Kriss, who receives state aid, is hoping to find work in Web security protecting sites from hackers. The Internet gave him focus and "freedom," he said, which he's struggled to hang on to through alcohol arrests and drug addiction and several prison stints for crimes related to both.
He arrived in Baltimore about two years ago, hoping to stand on his own without his father's help and to find work. But potential employers found his criminal record and prison tattoos difficult to get past, Kriss said. His arms are covered with skin art and the knuckles of his right hand are permanently inked with the letters "LYNX."
"You can't hide that," he said, shrugging. Within six months of his arrival, in early 2003, he was still jobless, out of money and evicted from his apartment.
He went to stay at a men's shelter for a while, where he met Dan McAfee, another homeless man with computer skills.
The pair "pooled their resources" and went to work developing Web sites for homeless Baltimoreans, said Jim Fragomeni, program manager at the South Baltimore Learning Center, an adult literacy and diploma preparation school.
Kriss and McAfee often went to the center to go online, although McAfee hasn't been there in several months.
"They're both kind of advocates for homelessness, obviously, but also for using the Web for homeless to help themselves," Fragomeni said. "They've turned on a lot of guys at the rescue mission place to come in and use our lab."
The Enoch Pratt Library branch on Light Street, where Kriss frequents, also has seen more people coming in to use the Internet.
"We've always had a steady stream of homeless traffic," said librarian Melanie Oliver, who encourages everyone to use the library's resources, regardless of economic status. "At first, they would just come in to use the public restrooms or sit and read magazines or public newspapers, but more are wanting to use the Internet."
It's a natural fit, said Kriss, who now prefers to stay with friends if he can or sleep outside instead of going to the shelter.
Morgan W. Brown, a 48-year-old homeless man in Montpelier, Vt., has been writing a Web log or "blog" for two years, first about homeless issues, then about his personal experiences.
"Having an outlet is real important," Brown said by phone last week from a motel, a rare luxury he sprung for to clear his head and clean up, he said. "Especially with being homeless, it's taken on a bit different meaning."
Brown's first experience with homelessness came when he was 17 and running away from an abusive, alcoholic father, he said. He spent the next 20-plus years sporadically homeless until about seven years ago, when he last had a residence. He's been "couch surfing" at friends' homes or camping out ever since. The journal gives him a home on the Web and a way to communicate with family, without having to e-mail each individually.
"It's important to be able to connect with people about stuff that's going on and not feel isolated," Brown said.
McAfee created a message board a year ago for homeless people Homeless in Baltimore Message Board. Kriss helped him develop it further by adding coding that makes the site pop up first in certain search-engine results.
Since then, they've collaborated on two resource Web sites. The first About Us was created on donated space from Bowie, Md.-based CeeMe Enterprises.
McAfee who is no longer living in the shelter and responded to The Baltimore Sun's questions via e-mail is trying to raise money for his Web efforts and survival through the second site Helping Our Homeless which is under development.
"Really, we're just a network of homeless people all trying to help each other," Kriss said. "When we all put our heads together, hopefully we'll create something that you can go to get help."
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