Autumn in Boulder

One of the most beautiful times of year in Boulder is fall. It is mid-October—we took a walk along Mapleton and nearby streets this morning. Even with a cloudy sky there was a certain mysterious, luminous quality to the leaves, especially the orange and red ones. For some reason, despite a couple of freezing nights, many flowers are still going strong and this is heartening. New buds are even forming. Winter is not here yet – it is a beautiful autumn. We ended up circling around to a Pearl Street coffee shop for a little journal writing, or “noodling” as M calls it. A couple of gray- bearded homeless guys sat out front on the low brick walls surrounding the flowerbeds, talking, smoking and reading the newspaper. One of the regulars, the skinny guy with the pirate hat, eye patch, and skull and crossbones flag who often sits with a small entourage at this spot, was not in evidence although his cart and flag were there. It is still reasonably good weather for these guys and they are probably managing okay for now – later in the fall and winter it will be a lot harder to see them outside in all kinds of weather.

At the Homeless Shelter

Last Monday I volunteered to help the The Colorado Agency for the Homeless by working with people at the Boulder Shelter for the Homeless to complete questionnaires. It is part of a HUD program to collect baseline information about different types of homelessness and how we might best fund housing and services that help people who are homeless to become self-sufficient. The last Colorado count was on August 28 and at that point there were 11,890 homeless people counted in the state.

I spoke with two women and three men, each quite different in their situations and needs. I encountered a range of emotions including anger, frustration, anxiety, exhaustion, and cheerful acceptance. One question in the form was about what services they needed but were unable to get, and that was interesting. Almost everybody agreed that they could get food and shelter if they needed it. Employment and transportation were a different matter, and housing was a big issue, especially for the single males who are a lower priority for many agencies than the families. Some of the challenges included serious physical issues such as cancer and asthma, and equally serious mental health issues including bipolar disorder.

My brother Paul had trouble with bipolar disorder and drugs all his life, but there were also good times. He was witty, loved to play his fiddle, loved to ride his bicycle, could be a great uncle to my kids at times, carving jack o’lanterns with them at Halloween.

Toward the end it got increasingly crazy though. The bipolar ups and downs and the constant drug use in combination were too much. He was homeless for a while before he died last year, although in the last months he had managed to get “Section 8” housing – an apartment with a balcony that actually had a view of the Flatirons. He had a job for a couple of days, but they said that he was “too slow.” The whole story is too complicated to tell here. I have had tendencies to feel guilty that I didn’t help him more, although truth be told I did everything in my power and energy to help him over many years. In talking to the people the other night at the Shelter I realized how very fortunate he had been to get the housing and the opportunity to change his unemployed situation. Nevertheless, he died of a methadone overdose last May.

When we went with the detective who was investigating his death to clear out his apartment, we found it occupied by a cadre of homeless young men and women who had no idea he had even died, but knew they had a place to sleep and had been taking advantage of it. The cop was seriously unamused to find them there. He called for backup and then lined them up for questioning along the balcony, all eight of them. At first it seemed sinister or scary, and I thought perhaps one of them was to blame for my brother’s death. But as I spoke with them it became clear that most of them were just lost people trying to get by, with their own family and drug and mental health issues, who had perhaps benefited from my brother’s hospitality in the past and had no idea what had happened. When they were told, I could see they were sad and upset.

So...why are people homeless? There is no one reason, no one to blame, but one thing is clear; there is no simple or consistent answer, and assumptions help nobody.

Homeless Encounter

In the warmth of the South Boulder ATM I encounter three homeless men with all their worldly belongings, sheltering from the cold. I don't feel unsafe getting my cash; they seem harmless. They remind me of someone I loved who was homeless for a while. One of them is struggling with a stuck coat zipper.

“Do you know anything about zippers?” he queries, and the others go very still for a moment. But I’m pretty sure the question is innocent.

“Bring it all the way down first and then work it back up,” I say inanely although the real stuck zipper solution is of course more complex. It is very cold, and snow lies heavy on the ground. A broken coat zipper can be a real issue for people living outside. “Do you guys have some place to go tonight—the shelter?”

“Oh yeah,” they all assure me.

“I’ve seen worse than this weather in New Orleans,” says the one with the flushed face and the southern accent. “This is nothing compared to that!”

“Well I saw pigs after a tornado,” says the one standing nearest me, his eyes wide. “Lots of dead pigs after the wind, their legs up in the air.”

“I grew up in Indiana – I’ve seen tornadoes too,” I say.

The quietest hunkering tiredly in the corner nods and says, “I’m from West Texas, and I’ve seen tornadoes too.”

“I got it!” says the guy with the stuck zipper, and indeed the zipper now slides smoothly.
I pause before leaving, and the West Texan lies, “Don’t worry. We’re fine. Just waitin’ for a ride.” There is no discussion of money. I walk away remembering a coat I bought long ago for another homeless guy who lost it the next winter. But I would like to believe that for a time it gave him warmth.