The Park Belongs to Who?

Monday afternoon, around 1, I was riding my bike by the school and saw Yamhill between 34th and 35th blocked by 5, then 6 police cars. I stopped.

I rode my bike inside the park and started talking to folks across the fence. I hadn’t been by there recently and looking at the fence line, it was objectively a mess. There were multiple temps and makeshift shelters built off of the construction materials against the curb. About a dozen houseless folks had been sheltering there and this was a unique presence of police to get them to move. Don’t get me wrong, this is a familiar problem, but I’d never seen this response.

As I stood in the park and got the story, “They’re just running everybody’s name. They’ve got two people in cuffs and there was some yelling down there but mostly it’s just what they do.”

D, a houseless guy, comes up on his bike next to me and asks the same questions I did 2 minutes before. Within 30 seconds of his arrival an officer makes a b-line to the fence, looking straight at him and in a deep directive voice says, “Out. Get out of the park. You aren’t going to be here while the kids are here.” D apologized, started turning around, “I didn’t know. Sorry” I was 3 feet away. The officer looked over at me and mumbled something dismissive. “Do I have to leave?” I asked. He turned back and said, “No you look fine.” Woah! He looked over at my bike, changed into friendly dad tone of voice and said, “That’s cool. You like that bike? I’ve got a trailer for my kid and feel like I am carrying an anchor up the hills.” Woah!!!

I stayed in the park. D left. The IDs kept running, people seemed wet and tired and resigned. And the kids, at recess while all this was going on, played—some taking close notice of the police, others oblivious and engaged in their own games.

That afternoon 3 people were arrested. Two had open warrants—so they get cuffed, taken to jail, arraigned, and released with a new court date. Most open warrants are for not appearing in court…they stack on top of each other and are reason to be cuffed any time one’s name is run through the system in a stop like this. The third person had what the officer told me was meth in his pocket. Possession. Yes, get that shit away from a school..but also, possession.

I was left wondering a few things: Was there a disturbance that started all this? No, the officer told me. Just complaints from the neighbors. Why then all the cars? We got told to patrol around here extra hard right now. Is that normal? Nothing’s normal right now, this neighborhood is the craziest one right now. He told me he never gets yelled at as much as in this neighborhood. For what? 50-50 people who want us to leave people alone and people who want us to “arrest everybody and ship them out to sea”.

The officer asked to sit down with me sometime, share perspectives…absolutely. I look forward to the meeting. Because lots felt off about this situation, from the different ways of approaching D and myself in the park because of looks, the number of cars and officers present, the impact that has on children at play, and why did it have to be right then? If there was no disturbance, why in the middle of a school day?

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The next day, Tuesday, I got word that a very similar event happened around 11 am. This time up to 8 police cars converged at the same time and the District Attorney made himself known. The DA? At a homeless camp at Sunnyside? This one scared a number of children, according to officials at the school. Some members of the school administration complained in the moment and in writing afterwords about the impact of such operations on the kids and how hard it is to get a response from police when they are worried about a student’s safety, but all of a sudden, two days in a row of such heavy police presence without any coordination or communication with the school they are ostensibly protecting.

——-

Later the same day, while we were serving sandwiches to our friends, a Park Ranger approached…”What are you doing here?” “Feeding some homeless folks,” my partner responded. “You need a permit for that!” he said with some aggression. I approached and asked what the line is…what are we doing that needs a permit. “Homeless feeds need a permit.”

“Okay, we can do that, but it’s like a dozen of my friends, I know everybody’s name here sharing sandwiches. I didn’t think you needed a permit for a picnic.”

“It’s code 20.08.010. You can look it up. Call that number for questions” He handed me a card. I was so thankful for this information. Just what I needed. It seemed strange to feel like in an argument to get this info, but so be it. I called the phone number that the Ranger gave me and had a conversation with a parks official on the spot to help interpret code 20.08.010. Turns out you need a permit for a lot of things: commerce, using electricity, serving alchohol, amplified music, large crowds, etc. I described the scene in our park at the moment: a dozen people, a table set up, sharing coffee, sandwiches, sweets; no money, no booze, no electricity. “No that sounds great. Oh but you did say a table is set up. Technically that is equipment and would require a permit, but if you just use the table in the park, you’re golden.” I hung up the phone and relayed my understanding to the Park Ranger.

“So the line seems to be that if we have a table set up, we need a permit, but if we remove the table, we’re good.” “Yes. That’s right.” We shook hands and talked about stewarding the park. He complimented us on picking up all our trash and packing it out. We shook hands again and exchanged information.

As we were finishing our conversation, a neighbor approached from down the block. “I called in this complaint! They should not be her!. They are not welcome here!!!”

Woah! The ranger told the neighbor to give him a moment, and he would chat with him on the opposite corner. They did. I didn’t follow. The Ranger came back about 20 minutes later, thanked us again for how clean it was and said, “If you ever need any help with the park or with any sort of mediation in the neighborhood, let me know. I’ll help if I can.”

We finished our picnic, took down the table and I was left wondering why we were so offensive to this neighbor. I know he will never be pleased with homeless folks in his neighborhood, but neither am I. I just think the way to deal is to make relationships, not cast them out like garbage.

And in fact, we are all allowed in the park. It is there for all of us. We show the park love and the park loves us back.

Finally, on Wednesday, around 130, a single police car showed up during recess for the third day in a row. They stood and watched while the lone camper left packed up his stuff and moved on. When I asked him if he was okay, he said, “Yeah…just same old same old. Got to keep moving.”

That night the principal of Sunnyside called to tell me that her daughter reported that people “with badges were at the school again.” Some of her friends are asking if homeless people are okay. Some of them are wondering where they are going and why the police are doing it. I imagine some also feel safer.

But really, does it always have to be like this? Isn’t there any support other than ‘move’? Even if there isn’t a better answer, isn’t there a better time to give the message than during recess? And even if there isn’t a better time, isn’t there a better way than without communication with the school? than without consistent rules enforcement for all classes of people? than without some help on the other end?

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On Thursday I sat with my buddy S. He was late for lunch and missed a sandwich so we walked up and got pizza together. While we waited for the pie, he told me about the dislocation he had experienced during the week. His tent and sleeping bag went missing, his personal bag was taken by Rapid Response even though he was present, he felt threatened by police who kept telling him, “hurry up” and “get out of here.” He was worried about the safety of a birthday gift he got for his dad because he had to stash it in some bushes and hope it was still there. As he finished his story he shook his head and said, “It’s starting to feel like a hate crime the way we get treated.” My stomach turned.

I don’t have the magic answer but it’s got to be better than this. I will meet next week with the officer from Monday. I look forward to it. It has to start with sharing perspectives, patience, and a willingness to step into the problem. Let’s keep showing up for each other.

A couple of guys in my neighborhood...

… needed ID. I know both of these guys from Hard Times Supper and they know each other well. I think on the outside one might never guess that we all share a community. But here we are at the DMV, because two of us need replacement driver’s licenses for ones that have gone missing and the other has the car to get us there.

One of us is 59, homeless for 4 years, on the autism spectrum, and absolutely brilliant about theoretical physics. He always wears a hat, is extremely polite, and tells wonderful stories about his dad navigating big ships and his mom, who he took care of for years between her stroke and her death…which is when he became homeless.

Another of us is 38, housed, has two little kids, and made himself coffee in a kitchen at dawn. And, while he is dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, he took a shower both last night and this morning. He likes to listen to stories and is increasingly patient about waiting rooms.

And the other of us is a week away from 25, carries a borrowed banjo, and is very tapped into extra-sensory communication. He tells good jokes and likes to talk, sometimes nervously, about his understandings of the world and universe.

We are all figuring it out and today we are figuring out how to replace one’s Driver’s License. Turns out what it takes is 26$ and a willingness to sit at the DMV for a couple of hours. Simple, right? Until you realize what’s behind the scenes…59 year old gets nervous about the 26$, “I don’t have that kind of cash. I could go canning tonight and maybe if it’s good, we could go tomorrow?” 24 year old wonders if he needs his birth certificate, proof of address, some other ID in order to get his ID.

“I can pay for each of your IDs today. Don’t worry about it.” “Let’s find out what we need. If we have to come back tomorrow we can.” I tell my friends. Relief is in the exhales.

“Oh man, thank you John. I’m going to pay you back, just wait and see. I can’t believe this, man. I’ve been thinking about getting this back since last winter and I can never get it together.” No problem, buddy.

“Jeez, John. I didn’t know you liked waiting rooms so much. I would have no motivation or ability to be here without you.” No problem, buddy.

We get antsy after an hour and walk up the block for a cup of coffee. We tell jokes, stories, moments of absurdity and sip coffee on the way back. The sun is higher at 11:15 so we sit in the parking lot. One smokes a cigarette. The other wonders about the clouds and their direction.

After 2 hours, we are up…24 year old goes up first. “Sir, you need a proof of address to change the address.” I see my friend about to blow. You see, he had the ID made recently, he had it sent to Sunnyside Church, but it came sometime between September 15th and now…all mail had been returned and now he needs it reissued to a new address. Proof of address is usually a bill, a document, etc. How does he get that? And quickly? He is frustrated at how much it actually takes to get an ID

“Can I be his proof of address?” I ask the man. “If he’s using your address or staying with you and you have proof of address, we can make that work.” Great! Thanks, buddy. I give the man my ID and 26$ and we’re done. “Accepted” says his paper. He smiles at the word.

I dash over the check on 59 year old. He is pulling papers out of his wallet, looking for more documents for the clerk. “Everything good?” I ask.

My friend looks back at me and says, “Yeah yeah, she’s so nice. She’s helping me so much and it’s going to work!” He is so happy/nervous/excited he is starting to tear up. I pay his 26$ and the same word is stamped on his paper. He smiles too and turns back to find our 24 year old friend. They compare papers and give each other a hug. It’s noon and we’re out. Success. Approved.

The car ride back towards the neighborhood was one of the most joyous I can remember since highschool joy rides or road trips in my 20s. The freedom that came with having a concrete task of life done and complete for each of these guys, transformed their days, maybe their weeks, maybe longer. It was so fun to hang out and felt good to trade a gallon of gas and 52$ to be a part of that level of accomplishment, pride, and joy.

Update:

With IDs in hand, the 59 year old, one of the nicest men you could ever want to meet, is now in a 90 day shelter at the new Navigation Center near the Broadway Bridge. He told me, “I think this is what I’m supposed to do next to get better. It’s like it’s all coming together.” as I got him checked in there yesterday.

The 24 year old is busking with his banjo in hopes of saving the cash to get him down to Arizona where friends and family are waiting for him. He wants the sun and the dry as the rain comes and said, “Now I can get out of here. Get clean and clear again. Start some new patterns. Thanks, buddy. I wont forget this”

Who knows what the future holds, except we know none of it is easy. But we all need a little help sometimes and I was so happy to be in a place to help a little. Maybe with enough pebbles added up behind our friends, a new mountain can get built.

A memorial service for Laura

We had a celebration of Laura’s life this past weekend at the Peace House. We had it there because she loved that place. Those of us who gathered loved Laura. She died almost two months ago while being a patient at Unity Hospital here in Portland. We don’t know the exact cause of her death, only that she was found still in her hospital bed by a hospital aide.

I met Laura and Marshall almost a year ago when they started showing up at Sunnyside. Sometimes she would speak, often not. She could be agitated, calm or almost catatonic. Marshall was always with her. Their home was their van which they shared with their kitty. Sunnyside Community House became a safe haven for both Marshall and Laura. They could get a hot meal. a shower, and a time to visit with friends. Marshall could rest and not have to be constantly attending to Laura’s needs because he knew we would have an eye on her while he slept. I often marveled at how Marshall was able to contain one who had a diagnosis of bipolar schizophrenia in such close quarters. It was hard work. Sometimes you could see the stress on his face. But he never complained. You could see them hand in hand walking around the block to get exercise and fresh air.

Laura was a creative one. She loved to crochet, draw, and make collages.

Not too infrequently Laura would secretly enter the upper part of the church. She was drawn to its beautiful stained glass windows. She could be seen exploring the many rooms or seeking a place to be quiet. She might be found sitting in the sanctuary, or following the delightful sounds of children making music in the My Voice Music space. One day she was in the Third Rail office visiting with Maureen Porter, Third Rail’s director. Maureen asked Laura if she knew where she was. Laura replied, “I’m home.” Many of our folk at Sunnyside claimed this church to be their home. A place where they felt safe, loved, and could get their basic needs met. What more could we want from a church than to feel the warmth of a home.

Yesterday

Yesterday , as I was arriving at Sunnyside Park to greet some our peeps, I noticed two teachers in the school yard trying to get a man to move from their space. I parked my car and went immediately to assist them. I had never met the man before. The teachers seemed relieved that I might possibly be able to help. I knelt down and began to quietly talk with him. I introduced myself and asked him his name. “Jonah”, he said. I asked if he needed anything. He replied, “No, I just want to be left alone.” We can do that, but first we need to get you to the other side of these rocks. Let me help you up.” Jonah got up with a little assistance, declined the opportunity to sit on the bench. He wanted to sleep stretched out on the grass. I helped him down. I asked if I could get him anything. He requested only a blanket. I offered food, but he said no. I returned shortly with a blanket and brownie. He gratefully accepted both. He thanked me for being kind. I learned that he had been in Portland for six years and that he was 63 years old. I left him as he drifted off to sleep. About an hour later I saw him going down Yamhill without his newly acquired blanket so I went and retrieved it. A few minutes later Jonah appeared again and wanted to know where he could get some food. He was obviously not familiar with the neighborhood. I pointed him in the direction of Belmont Street and assured him he could find a market just a few blocks away. He did have enough change to purchase something to eat.

Jonah reminded me that many of our friends on the street don’t usually travel far. Many have bad feet and their shoes are well worn. They know what’s available in their own small area of town. They know safe hiding places, where to get out of the rain, where to get food, what neighbors are friendly and those that are not.

I often see people bedded down at churches. Churches are the least likely to shoo them away if they aren’t being disruptive. For many, churches are considered a sanctuary. When I see them “hugging “ a church building to stay dry or find a little warmth I remember what I, as a Christian am called to do. I am to love my neighbor.

An incomplete list of efforts

My daughter is sick. A one year old with the flu is sad…but it also certainly lets a parent know where they need to be. All to say, I’ve been home more than I’m used to for the last 5 days. And in the meantime, I have gotten so many reminders of the power of our community…Here is an incomplete list of efforts I know of in the name of Beacon PDX:

Mother/daughter volunteers brought PB&J sandwiches to the park and they were gone in minutes

Sandy brought donations and burritos to the park. Lots of thankfulness and expressions of needs.

Sandy later brought C and E to the hospital for a infection that needed checking on

Parent of SES kiddos and volunteer makes and brings fritatta to nearby park for Jose and Tim especially. Others enjoyed and shared hugs and appreciation

Got inexpensive glasses for P. “I can see!”

Gathering coats, boots, and bus passes for distribution this week

Raised nearly $5000 online

PDX Street Medicine still stopped by to help on Wednesday…reported being thanked for their work by 2 neighbors (unusual for them!)

Invited into partnership with Sunnyside Environmental School

Today, Sandy will be bringing some of those supplies out to 35th and Yamhill and saying hi to our friends. If you have any winter gear, boots, rain gear that you are looking to part with, let us know. We are certainly still taking donations, just with a little extra attention to the needs of the season.

Look for a call for a meeting coming soon in hopes of increasing our coordination of efforts both on the ground and behind the scenes.

Finally, thank you for being a part of this community. We are all in it together.

A day and a half in the neighborhood …

I am just home from a morning in my neighborhood, running around in the spirit of Beacon PDX. This is so so needed. Here’s my day(s):

Yesterday afternoon I was early for picking up my kiddo from kindergarten and noticed a couple of police cars, lights on, parked in front of the church. It being my first day not working from inside, I thought I could at least see what was going on. The police (three cars and at least 5 officers) were asking for everybody’s name and birthday, writing it down, and issuing them an ‘illegal structure warning’ or something like that…it’s the official way to declare tarps and tents that are up during the daytime as illegal housing.

One friend didn’t want to give his name. He felt he’d done nothing wrong and had no need to give the police his name, “none of the stuff is mine, I’m just sitting here.” he said. The officer started getting frustrated, threatened to cuff him, kept telling him that the only way to get them to go away was to give his name, “That’s my orders. That’s my job.” the officer explained, backing S into a literal corner between the fire escape and the building.

Finally S. gave his name in a burst of frustration. The officer said, “Now what was so hard about that?”

Watching this from a few feet away, surrounded by houseless folks that had just given their names to the officers, I decided to enter the conversation. I kept my voice even as best I could: “I think what was hard for S is that you are asking for information from him and not me. I’m standing here. I’ve been here. Nobody has asked for my name or ID or anything else. Why does he have to give his?”

“Because he’s associated with these people.”

“So am I. I’ve witnessed this a dozen times and nobody has ever asked for my name or birthday.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“Well, classism I suppose.” I answered honestly.

The officer appreciated my honesty of opinion but did not agree with my analysis. Anyhow, in the end the officer ended up apologizing to S. for making him feel attacked. He apologized to me for becoming elevated. And then he asked, “What could we have done differently? Here, where the rubber meets the road, what could we have done differently?”

I was kind of blown away and called out, “What do you think, guys? What could they have done differently?” A few voices chimed in (Let us leave when we said we were leaving, speak to us like people, don’t threaten us…). A few minutes later the police drove away and I went to pick up my kid.

I rode away on my bike thinking, “Hmm, I’m glad I went to check on my friends.”

This morning I started at 9 with a friend who has been staying in a van near Sunnyside for a while. We met in Freddy’s. He’s looking for a way to help Pat and is interested in trying to get a fruit and flower stand going, where the profits would go to Beacon. He has many big ideas. We talked through the steps to take to make it come to fruition and I told him I’d be happy to join him at a couple of meetings as he solicits donations and checks for space for his project. I think and hope he felt supported.

Then I drove over to New Seasons and picked up my friend D. D needed to re-enroll in the Oregon Health Plan. He has a hernia that has been recommended for surgery but he is living on the street and allowed his coverage to lapse…or at least he thought so and so he hadn’t been going to a doctor. I took him down to Richmond clinic and in 10 minutes we learned that he was still enrolled but had lost his primary care physician. We found him a new one and he has an appointment in four weeks and insurance at least through May…he was excited to learn that dental coverage is included and wants to pursue that…

We are going to meet regularly the next few weeks because D has big plans and some concrete tasks to check off. As we left each other after a coffee, he said, “Thanks man. It helps so much to keep me motivated to get stuff done, to keep going, to be happy if I feel like people are rooting for me.”

I think we all need that.

Then I cruised by the church in search of my friend Scott so that a reporter can ask him a few more questions about Debby’s death. I couldn’t find Scott but two of his friends took down the reporters phone number and said, “Scott can use my phone if we see him before you do.”

I drove away thinking, that’s community!

Now I am home and about to eat lunch. I am lucky to have a place out of the rain. I am lucky to have so many friends in the neighborhood. I am lucky to be able to sate my hunger. Thanks for reading.

A new beginning

Thank you for finding your way here. I write this with 8 days left on our time in the basement of Sunnyside Community House. It is heartbreaking to know that this place will no longer be open to all of our neighbors, but I hope one day it will be again. I thought about this alot last week as our time started feeling very short.

I thought about it Tuesday when one of my friends OD’d. S. was sleeping on the fenceline on Yamhill and 35th, a piece of real estate that is often swept and often a point of concern as it borders a park attached to an elementary school. The optics are not great. It is easy to see why those who don’t know S or his friends would be afraid. But it is also easy to see why they need not be when you talk to him. But what draws my heart to S today is thinking about the fact that he was sleeping there because it is the place where his wife of 36 years died. She passed away on July 24th. Most assume from an overdose, but the facts are still out on that. Anyhow, S has slept there most nights since then. He has lost his stuff in sweeps three times since. Last week he lost his stuff for the last time and overdosed the same night. Another friend found him not breathing and saved his life. The next morning my wife found him crying on a corner having just lost all his stuff again. He was despondent, foggy, grief-stricken. She looked for me—I was in a meeting across town. She tried to let herself into Sunnyside but the doors were locked. She knocked on a neighbors door in search of a glass of water. With that found she ended up just sitting with him then walking to Stumptown for a hot breakfast. Then she walked him down to the clinic where he was seeing his counselor. She was worried about him because he is in his 60s and was sitting on the corner in tears. She was worried because she knew he had lost his wife a few weeks before. She tried to help and did. But it was harder than it had to be. Scott didn’t have somebody unlocking the door across the street from him that morning. He didn’t have a place to stash his backpack while he walked to his appointments. he didn’t have an advocate helping him to talk to the sheriff in charge of sweeping the park that day.

I thought about it again on Thursday when Pat called out to our friend, D, “I’m glad we were here.” on his way out the door. It really struck me hard that in a week, we won’t be able to say that. You see, D his an old friend, middle aged, and living in a car with his beloved dog. He came in a half hour before exclaiming, “I’ve had a real bad accident.” He looked at the floor. Both Pat and I said, “go ahead. Take a shower.” It was 10 am. We weren’t supposed to let people in until 1. How do you tell a man that’s just pooped his pants that he can’t take a shower because you can’t let him in yet. D told us after his shower that he didn’t want to be a bother; he’d tried to go at the park, but they closed for the season already, after that he was running red lights to get to us because he didn’t know where else to go. He didn’t make it in time but we had a shower and a change of clothes to offer. Easy. Humane. Right.

Neither D nor S will have this sanctuary in the coming days because we at Sunnyside have to leave. We are no longer welcome to serve D or S and his former wife and their friends and family and all the rest of the stories after 8 days from now. Not because they all will be taken care of. Not because we don’t want to help. Not because we have a new and better place to be together. But because we are no longer welcome to serve from the basement that has been our home for so many years. It is so so sad.

But there is a new beginning. We are hopeful that a new home will become manifest. We have found a building we could buy if we could raise the right money, but it’s more money than I’ve ever seen at 1.5 million. We have found few open doors for serving our meal or offerings what we do for people in other people’s spaces but perhaps that space is out there still. We are confident that we will find our way to a new roof but in the meantime, we will not give up or give in. We will not give up or give in on the people that we have come to love.

We are starting Beacon PDX in that name. We are seeking wisdom from our friends on the street about how best to stay in touch and how best to tell folks where and what we are doing as time moves on. I am hard at work attempting to start a podcast to give a platform for all of these stories. We are deepening partnerships with churches, community spaces, Sunnyside Environmental School, and many more. We know that the work is not done and we are not done with the work. Please spread the word, support our work, say hello to your neighbors, join us.