Brilliant writers, like Ray Bradbury and
Snoopy, can open with, “It was a dark and stormy night.” Regular folks, like me and presumably you,
cannot get away with clichéd openings.
That is a problem because stormy, dark nights are partly what I am writing
about. I write about such nights because
I want to reflect on my experience as a volunteer at a homeless shelter – Out of
the Cold in Saint John, NB. Out of the
Cold is a winter emergency shelter for homeless men that is in a church
parlour. If safe shelter cannot be
assumed, “It was a dark and stormy night,” is not eerie, mysterious, or even
cliché. It is frightening.
†
This post originally appeared on my former blog ajdickinson.blogspot.ca. The date stamp is for the date of the original posting.
Out of the Cold makes continuous
impressions on me. The keenest always
come from the guys who use the shelter, people – rather than a “the homeless” stereotype
that I doubt is represented in reality – who I will hereafter refer to as our guests.[1] I
want to share a couple of these impressions.
I bring a book along for overnight shifts. It is usual that our guests are asleep, so there
is not a lot to do overnight. I had a
Steinbeck novel with me on a night when one of our guests could not sleep. We had a long conversation in the lobby about
our favourite books, which rivaled the similar conversations I had in
university or while I was managing a public library.
Friendliness is the norm at Out of the
Cold, but one of our guests stands out. Other
guests tell the volunteers how he goes out of his way to help them and other
people during the day (when the shelter is not open). If he were a community group, his actions
would be celebrated. He is part of an
easily overlooked population though, so only a handful of people hear of his
efforts. That is too bad for a lot of
reasons. One of them is that hearing
such accounts is inspiring.
†
I was not involved with Out of the Cold during its infancy, but I’ve heard the story. Grace Presbyterian was part of a discussion about the need for an emergency shelter in Saint John and it made space available. This is a sacrifice. There is no way that our presence is unknown. The shelter is in the church parlour. Every winter day, the church uses this parlour knowing that ten guests[2] will later sleep there.
The step that this congregation takes is one of trust, compassion, and grace. To Grace Presbyterian Church, I want to offer a personal thanks. I remember you and your generosity during moments when I question whether faith matters.
†
Running a shelter by volunteers is no small feat. We have two shifts per night, every night (including weekdays, weekends, and holidays). We operate from January until March, so are open for about 90 consecutive nights. Every night requires six people, plus our director. She is there every night. These volunteers are the visible and obvious people that are necessary for the shelter to run smoothly. There are others not so visible. Someone has to do the laundry. The food in the fridge comes from somewhere. Replacements need to be called when a scheduled volunteer cannot make a shift. The people behind such efforts are less noticeable, but they are just as crucial. Out of the Cold could not protect from dark and stormy nights without them.
†
Out of the Cold makes a difference in Saint John. The immediate difference is that our guests have somewhere to stay for a night (or for several nights if needed). I expect that all of the volunteers hope and dream, and that many also pray, that every one of our guests finds stable housing. Finding such housing is a process. For some guests it is a one day process. For others it is longer. We are there in the meantime.
Of course, the criticism that shelters are nothing more than a “Band-Aid solution” is levied. This is a loathsome metaphor when it is used dismissively, so let’s unpack it by thinking about a couple of scenarios involving me and a Band-Aid.
Scenario #1. I am making supper and my knife slips when I am cutting carrots. I need a Band-Aid. As it turns out, the cut is painful but small and the Band-Aid is all that is necessary. My finger will heal itself soon enough.
Scenario #2. I am making supper and am particularly clumsy. This time I cut myself deeply, perhaps to the bone. A Band-Aid (or many Band-Aids, or a towel, or whatever) is not enough for me to heal. It is still crucial, however. It provides me the time needed to get to the hospital for stitches.
I think this is true also of homeless shelters. Some of the guests at Out of the Cold are at the end of a really bad day – their girlfriend kicked them out, they are evicted, they are intoxicated and are not allowed home until sobering up – and a Band-Aid solution will be all that is necessary. They go home (or find a home) the next day. A Band-Aid solution is just that. A solution.
Other guests have deeper rooted problems – chronic homelessness, addictions, mental illness. These problems are significant and they marginalize the men who experience them. The men who experience this type of marginalization need ongoing support if they are able to find permanent housing. More than a Band-Aid is needed because the need is so complex. A Band-Aid solution, though, is the first step of a long process. Without it, the rest of the solution will be difficult.
I have seen success in this process. A few days per week I make a forty-minute walk home from work. At about the same time a couple of gentlemen start walking along the same road from the opposite direction. As we pass each other with quick nods or “Hellos”, I wonder if they recognize me or if they are just being polite. I recognize them. Last winter I saw these men regularly at Out of the Cold. They were two of our long term guests. One day, they stopped and asked why they knew me. Not knowing what to say, I told them that we must recognize each other from about town. I asked some friends about them. As it turns out, these two men have an apartment in my neighbourhood. I’m not sure this would have been possible if they didn’t have nightly access to the shelter last winter.
I hope no one thinks that shelters are an ideal solution or even an acceptable solution to homelessness. I know that I don’t. This does not mean that they are not crucial to our response to homelessness, however. Winter nights with extreme (or even moderate) cold, heavy snow, rain, or some sort of combination of these can be deadly. Experts that I respect advocate a Housing First model and I hope the social and political will necessary for this type of model will be a reality soon.[3] Something must be done in parallel to working toward and advocating for this goal, however. Saint John has a homelessness problem. Saint John has dark and stormy nights. This is why Out of the Cold is necessary.
†
If you live in or near Saint John, NB and November 23, 2013 hasn’t happened yet, there is a volunteer information and training session on Saturday, November 23, 2013 at 10:00 am. The session will be in the Grace Presbyterian Church parlour on the corner of Hazen and Coburg Streets, across the road from St. Joseph’s hospital. Please use the Hazen Street entrance.
†
There is something to be said that the
building that shields our guests from dark and stormy nights is a church. I am a regular churchgoer (although I worship
as part of a different congregation), so feel free to point out my bias. It exists and I am not willing to set it
aside. Grace Presbyterian Church needs
to be acknowledged. I do not know this
congregation well, but I do know that it plays a significant role in addressing
Saint John poverty.
I was not involved with Out of the Cold during its infancy, but I’ve heard the story. Grace Presbyterian was part of a discussion about the need for an emergency shelter in Saint John and it made space available. This is a sacrifice. There is no way that our presence is unknown. The shelter is in the church parlour. Every winter day, the church uses this parlour knowing that ten guests[2] will later sleep there.
The step that this congregation takes is one of trust, compassion, and grace. To Grace Presbyterian Church, I want to offer a personal thanks. I remember you and your generosity during moments when I question whether faith matters.
†
Out of the Cold operates entirely through
volunteers. A broad cross-section of
society is represented amongst us. My
experience volunteering is alongside an MLA, an MD, and clergy. It is also alongside someone living in a
rooming house, someone struggling to find stable employment, and a recent
retiree. The dynamic is
interesting. Each brings unique
perspective, but all bring kindness, the desire to serve, and the realization
that a problem exists that needs a solution.
I have witnessed no pretentiousness or division amongst volunteers,
regardless of where they come from in society.
Wealthy and struggling. Women and
men. Working age and retirees. Newcomers and people who have lived here for
all of their lives. I am happy about
each volunteer I encounter.
Running a shelter by volunteers is no small feat. We have two shifts per night, every night (including weekdays, weekends, and holidays). We operate from January until March, so are open for about 90 consecutive nights. Every night requires six people, plus our director. She is there every night. These volunteers are the visible and obvious people that are necessary for the shelter to run smoothly. There are others not so visible. Someone has to do the laundry. The food in the fridge comes from somewhere. Replacements need to be called when a scheduled volunteer cannot make a shift. The people behind such efforts are less noticeable, but they are just as crucial. Out of the Cold could not protect from dark and stormy nights without them.
†
Out of the Cold makes a difference in Saint John. The immediate difference is that our guests have somewhere to stay for a night (or for several nights if needed). I expect that all of the volunteers hope and dream, and that many also pray, that every one of our guests finds stable housing. Finding such housing is a process. For some guests it is a one day process. For others it is longer. We are there in the meantime.
Of course, the criticism that shelters are nothing more than a “Band-Aid solution” is levied. This is a loathsome metaphor when it is used dismissively, so let’s unpack it by thinking about a couple of scenarios involving me and a Band-Aid.
Scenario #1. I am making supper and my knife slips when I am cutting carrots. I need a Band-Aid. As it turns out, the cut is painful but small and the Band-Aid is all that is necessary. My finger will heal itself soon enough.
Scenario #2. I am making supper and am particularly clumsy. This time I cut myself deeply, perhaps to the bone. A Band-Aid (or many Band-Aids, or a towel, or whatever) is not enough for me to heal. It is still crucial, however. It provides me the time needed to get to the hospital for stitches.
In both of these scenarios, a “Band-Aid
solution” is necessary.
I think this is true also of homeless shelters. Some of the guests at Out of the Cold are at the end of a really bad day – their girlfriend kicked them out, they are evicted, they are intoxicated and are not allowed home until sobering up – and a Band-Aid solution will be all that is necessary. They go home (or find a home) the next day. A Band-Aid solution is just that. A solution.
Other guests have deeper rooted problems – chronic homelessness, addictions, mental illness. These problems are significant and they marginalize the men who experience them. The men who experience this type of marginalization need ongoing support if they are able to find permanent housing. More than a Band-Aid is needed because the need is so complex. A Band-Aid solution, though, is the first step of a long process. Without it, the rest of the solution will be difficult.
I have seen success in this process. A few days per week I make a forty-minute walk home from work. At about the same time a couple of gentlemen start walking along the same road from the opposite direction. As we pass each other with quick nods or “Hellos”, I wonder if they recognize me or if they are just being polite. I recognize them. Last winter I saw these men regularly at Out of the Cold. They were two of our long term guests. One day, they stopped and asked why they knew me. Not knowing what to say, I told them that we must recognize each other from about town. I asked some friends about them. As it turns out, these two men have an apartment in my neighbourhood. I’m not sure this would have been possible if they didn’t have nightly access to the shelter last winter.
I hope no one thinks that shelters are an ideal solution or even an acceptable solution to homelessness. I know that I don’t. This does not mean that they are not crucial to our response to homelessness, however. Winter nights with extreme (or even moderate) cold, heavy snow, rain, or some sort of combination of these can be deadly. Experts that I respect advocate a Housing First model and I hope the social and political will necessary for this type of model will be a reality soon.[3] Something must be done in parallel to working toward and advocating for this goal, however. Saint John has a homelessness problem. Saint John has dark and stormy nights. This is why Out of the Cold is necessary.
†
Please be aware that although I
volunteer at Out of the Cold, what is written above is a personal contemplation
rather than a statement from the organization.
I speak for no one beyond myself.
If you live in or near Saint John, NB and November 23, 2013 hasn’t happened yet, there is a volunteer information and training session on Saturday, November 23, 2013 at 10:00 am. The session will be in the Grace Presbyterian Church parlour on the corner of Hazen and Coburg Streets, across the road from St. Joseph’s hospital. Please use the Hazen Street entrance.
[1] Of course, I am
not going to tell you our guests’ names.
They have the same right to privacy and confidentiality as you or I do
and the volunteers at Out of the Cold respect this.
[2] Out of the Cold actually has space
for fifteen guests. During the winter of
2013, the shelter averaged about 10 guests per night.
[3] The work of Randy Hatfield from the Human Development
Council is an excellent source of local information.
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