No place like home
Life on the streets a challenge for Care 66 residents

This is the first in a three-part series responding to National Hunger and Homelessness Week, Nov. 16 through 22. Staff Writer Phil Stake tells about his experience taking the homeless challenge Nov. 10 and 11, sponsored by Care 66's Frances House, an all-men transitional housing unit in Gallup. For one day and one night, he lived at the Frances House and shadowed one of its residents.Kenny Grissom, a 31-year-old homeless man staying at Care 66 Frances House, poses for a portrait Tuesday. — © 2008 Gallup Independent / Cable Hoover

Copyright © 2008
Gallup Independent
By Phil Stake
Staff writer

GALLUP — After breakfast, Kenny and I went to beg. We had to be out of the Care 66 Frances House between 7:30 a.m. and 4:30 p.m. Those are the hours of Tuesdays and Wednesdays when the local shelter lacks staff to run the house. Each transitioning-homeless resident goes somewhere different, some to the hogbacks, some to Goodwill. Don and Ross fended off the early cold with warm coffee at McDonald’s. Kenny and I walked to Wal-Mart with cardboard signs.

The better part of four miles separates the 2407 Boyd Ave. Frances House and Wal-Mart at 1650 W. Maloney Ave.; and Kenny and I walked all of it, kicking rocks and small-talking along the way. Kenny Grissom, as his name appears on the 24 job applications he’s submitted during the 15 months he’s lived at the Frances House, wasn’t always homeless. He’s 31 now and his job history ranges from restaurants in New Mexico to a coal barge on the Tuscaloosa River. He’s bussed tables at TGI Fridays at WinRock Mall in Albuquerque. In Gallup, he’s washed dishes at Applebees, run the register at McDonald’s and worked as a night clerk at America’s Best Value Inn and Suites. Kenny never graduated high school and he missed receiving his GED by a few points. These days, he survives on about $700 a month, the benefit afforded him by SSDI, Social Security Disability Insurance. To qualify for the benefit, Kenny underwent 11 days of psychiatric observation in Las Vegas, N.M., home of the state mental hospital. Kenny has depression, often skimmed over as an ailment of aristocrats.

After going up then across Boardman Drive and walking along Aztec Avenue to the sidewalk next to Historic Route 66, we began picking our favorite pieces from displays on the other side of traders’ windows. Approaching Second Street, we passed three construction workers huddled together, cutting up over morning coffee. One looked at me briefly, cardboard sign in one hand and a coffee can in the other, and he looked away almost at once.

By the time we reached the Third Street crossing, the sun had begun to light the city but had not yet gained the momentum to warm it. Cars ripped the air in front of us, sending cold blasts through my coat, wool sweater and T-shirt. We heard the bell sound at Second Street and knew a train was coming. Kenny encouraged me to hurry so we wouldn’t be caught waiting. Signs in hand, we hustled across the windy street and over the tracks. I began to ask myself what I’d signed up for — what rotten assignment I’d let pull me from the warmth of my apartment and put me on the long end of a cold Tuesday morning, with every intention of placing lunch at the mercy of Wal-Mart’s early shoppers.

I remember when I first got the assignment handed down by my editor.

“I want you to be homeless for a day,” he told me.

I called Geri Moore, volunteer coordinator for Care 66, and she said she is pushing for community involvement running up to National Hunger and Homelessness Awareness Week, which claims Nov. 16 through Nov. 22, and is sponsored by the National Coalition for the Homeless.

No money. No cell phone. Don’t shave for five days. Don’t shower for two days. Those are the rules. “Yeah, and it’s a good idea to put your ID in your sock so police can identify you later,” I thought.

About the same time she called the Independent she contacted local policy makers — each city council member and each county commissioner. She said they never called back.

The National Hunger and Homelessness Week Web site pores through its list of reasons ... “brings greater awareness to your community,” it says ... “help people realize the difficulties that homeless people daily face.”

One challenge has to be the cold. The dormitory in which I slept at the Frances House hovered at around 48 degrees — an undeniable side effect of rising heat costs. I maintained the wool sweater and undershirt, the jeans and cozy socks, and added to it one cotton and one wool blanket. After about an hour of shivering I got up and grabbed another wool blanket amidst a symphony of snores.

I had checked in about 2 p.m. Monday. Miranda Yazzie, Transitional Housing Program manager for Care 66, conducted the intake interview. Typically acceptance into the Frances House hinges on a referral, an interview and $100 a month toward room and board. The house can take as many as 25 residents. Each is responsible for chores like cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms.

“Chore days are Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday,” Yazzie said. “By 7:30 p.m. that day.”

Men who stay out past 7:30 p.m. are required to take a Breathalyzer when they return for the night. Anything more than .000 and he is back on the street. A good many of the residents at Care 66 are recovering addicts, and enforcing sobriety is a safeguard against relapse. It also encourages peace among all male residents, who range in age from 18 to 75. There are only two showers, and in the morning men in bathrobes can be seen scurrying around the dining room, moving from dorm to shower, shower to dorm, as others sit down to a breakfast of rice with raisins, fried bologna and eggs over hard as a rubber mallet.
Kenny had already made the signs when we left after breakfast. He made one for each of us; they both said the same thing:

Homeless. Anything will help.

The first hour and a half was all sideways glances. Then, inside of about six minutes, three cars stopped. And I had enough to buy Kenny and me a cup of coffee. He hadn’t had the same good fortune. We begged for a total of three hours and, by noon, had raised $14.85 -- which, after the two coffees from McDonald’s, left $12.07 for lunch. We ate at Carl’s, Jr. and found a sunlit bench on which to warm ourselves and pass the afternoon.

Tomorrow: The rocky path to homelessness.

Wednesday
November 19, 2008
Selected Stories:

No place like home:
Life on the streets a challenge for Care 66 residents

No place like home:
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