Homelessness

Philanthropy 22 June 2009 | View Comments

For a photojournalism project, I (with the help of a fellow student) went against the suggestion of my teacher and did a project on homelessness in Orlando, Florida. She was concerned about the sensitivity of the topic, and was afraid of disturbing, offending, or being assaulted by, the homeless.

When we went, we were both rather nervous on how to approach the topic. We didn’t want to assume someone to be homeless and offend anyone, while at the same time we didn’t want to upset anyone and be the victim of their reaction. After a few awkward advances, we conquered those fears and approached a few friendly looking individuals.

In general, it was a fantastic experience. Interviewing these people was the most informative thing I’ve done in a long time. I never understood who they were and why they were there. In fact, I came away realizing that I didn’t realize they were real people with lives, emotions, needs, wants, and fears.

On the flip side, when I walked away from the first set of interviews back to the car, I ran into a couple of John’s. They both were slightly seedy and talked to us a long time, they politely asked for a few dollars, to which I gladly handed them $5 a piece. The second time I saw the them a few weeks later, they asked for money again, and would not accept “no” for an answer, until I simply left.

I realize now that I went into the whole situation naive on the whole topic, became naive in the other direction, and I think I walked away more in the middle of the naive extremes.

The following are their photos, followed by a short summary of their story.


On May 15, over a hundred homeless people from around Orlando gather for the occasional Home Sweet Homeless pot-luck around Orlando’s Lake Eola park. Dozens of volunteers come prepared with food and blankets, ready to feed and eat with the homeless. Attendees mingle together, meeting new friends and seeing old faces. They talk with the attendees, ready to hear their story, and discuss anything from friends and family to social and economic issues facing their time. These connections keep people coming back for more, making true friendships, validating themselves as humans.


Dave & Wife

Without any possessions or place to call home, sixty year old Dave (name conceled) and his wife struggle from day to day. After the construction cleanup industry dried up and they lost their jobs, they were evicted from their home.

“They threw everything out, the couch, the TV, the clothes, everything. Right into a dumpster” Dave said, putting down his Orlando Sentinel cross-word puzzle.

After exactly one month of being homeless, Dave and his wife are still afraid and nervous about living on the streets. They’ve tried sleeping in a shelter near downtown Orlando’s Lake Eola park, however after a terrifying experience, they’ve never been back.

“These shelters are just poor people stealing from poor people, and that makes me sick,” Dave said while sitting on a bench eating muffins with his wife. “A friend of ours woke up one morning with nothing but his back-pack’s strap and missing his wallet. They even took the square of fabric when they cut his back pocket off.”

“Luckily, we can get at least one meal a day, through Food, Not Bombs and things like that” his wife said.


Rick

“I’ve been homeless for thirteen years,” Rick said, putting his latest novel down. “I was a caterer, a good cook. I still am a good cook, but I haven’t been able to practice in many years.”

After a nasty divorce with his wife who took the house, three kids, and his successful catering business, he was left penniless.

“It was like hell, [but] I take care of myself,” he said. “I got a free ticket from a man in Ohio to Key West,” where he stayed for three years.

While he misses having a job and responsibility, “I like the freedom” Rick said.

Even through hard times – surviving on what he can find in the garbage can, his morals stay strong.

“I never beg, I don’t borrow, I don’t steal,” he said.


John & John

The two Johns, befriended and sitting together on a bench.

The two Johns, befriended and sitting together on a bench.

Sitting on a couple of planters on Central Avenue near the Orlando Public Library, John D. and John P. sat panhandling.

“I was married,” John P. said, “Then my wife kicked me out, and said ‘John, when you find a job and straighten shit out, give me a call.”

Ever since, he’s been looking for a job on a regular basis, however with issues between money, food, and transportation – that’s not proving terribly successful.

“If you get a job, you have to be able to get there on time. The busses here aren’t on time or reliable, and the food centers are only open while I would be at work. That would be okay, but only if I can buy food. Unfortunately, you don’t get a check after the first two weeks,” he said.

John D. was happily married until his trailer burned down, leaving him without possessions, insurance, and without family, a place to sleep.

John D. is currently employed at a Vietnam Veterans telemarketing firm, trying to convince the charitable to donating money.

“I’m not very good at it, and because of it I don’t make much money. I’m trying, though,” he said.

One thing they both agreed upon was the police.

“Most days we’re both a nervous wreck. Even if we’re just sitting on a bench minding out own business they stop you and ask you for your I.D. to run a warrant check,” John P. said.

“All we can do is smoke, being out here to the elements and dangers present in Orlando, John D. said.

“There’s a $690 fine for panhandling, and if you don’t pay it quickly enough, they double it,” John P. said, “and its not like we make much – just a few bucks here and there.”


Bruce

Bruce, an activist who has stood up for homeless rights in court.

Bruce, an activist who has stood up for homeless rights in court.

Only a few weeks ago, two police officers drove up to him while he was walking down the street. When they got to him, they rolled down the window, stuck their heads outside and said “Hello, Bruce,” and drove away.

“I didn’t know either of them – never seen them in my life,” Bruce Shawen said, “I was called as a witness against the City of Orlando.

“They declared that the homeless couldn’t be fed within a certain number of blocks of City Hall. It was taken to court and contested, and we won. That was a weird experience, having them come up to me like that – I was scared,” Shawen said.

“Three years ago I was first laid off from my plumbing job. They downsized, and I was one of them.” he said, “I’ve made a make-shift home next to Tim in a wooded area outside of Orlando.”

Through all of this, Shawn managed to get jobs on and off.

“I keep an email that I access through the library, I check the job board at the Goodwill on a regular basis, and tend to take my bike or bus wherever I need to go,” he said.
 “I’m doing okay on the streets, and this court decision s the greatest victory we could possibly ever have, he said.”


Bill

Bill, a tough, ex-Marine and house builder.

Bill, a tough, ex-Marine and house builder.

Fifty-three year old ex-house builder Bill has been homeless now for two years, after the economy took a serious down-turn.

“When the houses stopped being built, I stopped having a home to go to,” Bill said, “Now I sleep near doors, I try to find rugs or carpet near them.”

This is a rough turn for a man who was apart of the Marines.

“I was in the marine corps for seventeen years, and an artilleryman for three years and a month. After I was released, I didn’t know where to go,” he said.

“I try to find food and money, for without I can hardly find a purpose.”


Ted

Ted, a slick and respectable homeless man, giving live a second shot.

Ted, a slick and respectable man, giving life a second shot.

After being homeless for eight years, Ted misses a lot of things from being employed.

“I like having the job, the responsibility. Having the money lets me do things,” Ted said, “But most of all, I miss the hot showers. Those are killer.”

Ted was a drug user for a number of years. He left his home in St. Pete for a new environment, hopefully without drugs and other destructive activities.

“When I left, my room-mate and girlfriend were heavily into drugs. It was a toxic environment and I couldn’t get out of the downward spiral,” he said, “But I’m going to church now, and its really helping me lift my spirits back up.”

“I’m starting to actively look for a job now, and am looking forward to bringing myself out of this pit,” he said.


Tony P. and Delores

Tony P. and Delores, two homeless people who've found love.

Tony P. and Delores, two people who've found love.

Tony P. and Delores sat on a park bench, feasting on the Home Sweet Homeless lunch, and keeping positive.

“If I died today, the world would owe me nothing.” Delores said.

Tony even admitted to be caught in a rare mood.

“I usually don’t like to talk about being homeless, I work at keeping my head held high,” Tony said.

Tony tries to avoid the stereotype of homelessness.

“I try not to look the part – I dress as well as I can, and don’t cary backpacks or bags around. People might be offended just because you are there,” he said.

Delores loves working with people.

“I was a secretary once, but when they didn’t need me anymore – they fired me,” she said.

But she wasn’t any ordinary secretary.

“I majored in law and psychology. I have three degrees in different topics,” she said, “But I really just love to work with people. I was once a bar maid, and also worked at a K-Mart,” and has been looking for a similar job ever since.

One thing they both agreed on was religion.

“Jesus was homeless,” Delores said while Tony nodded.

“I was once disenchanted by religion, by being slighted,” Tony said, “I always asked why, why God, why am I being punished.”


Tony P.

Tony P, a vibrant man with a solid, positive outlook on life.

Tony P, a vibrant man with a solid, positive outlook on life.

Tony P. of Orlando has tried more than getting a job to get his money, but hasn’t been very successful.

“I can’t even donate plasma. They reject you if you give the Goodwill as an address, and a lot of places do that,” he said.

Unfortunately, he’s also lost contact with his family.

“I found out that my mother died several months ago. I didn’t even know until four months after she had passed away,” Tony said, “I haven’t even talked to my sister in fifteen years.”

Tony doesn’t like this way of life, and he doesn’t see it as being stress-free.

“This is a 24/7 type of job. Its a way of life,” Tony said, “You just don’t know what you might have to ward off mentally, with everybody scoffing on you, and treating you poorly.”

“I don’t have that Oprah problem. I don’t have that issue that the rich and powerful have, of IRAs and CDs. Investment portfolios. I don’t have that, and I think thats ok.” Tony said.

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  • Al Parker
    I will soon be Homeless, maybe, I will not borrow anymore, I will survive like all of the others. The Indian way a long time ago professed to survival. We must all move to the hills and provide for ourselves.
    Get away from the cities were you can see all the other people and their comforts bought on credit. Many Clans were established and a People survived.
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