Justin's Service Learning Logs

Denver Rescue Mission

I have volunteered multiple times at the Denver Rescue Mission preparing food for their dinner shift, although I do not have the chance to interact with the homeless people that DRM serves I do have the chance to meet and talk to the other people who work at the Rescue Mission and other volunteers. Two of the people that I had a chance to work with were formerly homeless and both battled with drug and alcohol addictions.
Hearing ‘Mike’, a man who I guesses not be more than 30 talk about his experience of living in different shelters from the time he was 19 till he began working at the DRM made me think about the idea that the fact I have a place to call home is not a universal trait, although I never assumed it to be, hearing someone talk about the fact they have nowhere to turn when times get rough was certainly a jolt to my way of thinking.
Mike was also a former heroin addict and father of two children began working at the Denver Rescue Mission as part of their alcohol program, eventually he ‘graduated’ from the program and became a regular employee of the program, he now rents an apartment (at least he said he does) and is planning on going to a mechanical vocational school so he can become an auto mechanic. Still the courts do not allow him to see his two children on the basis of his former heroin addiction, the mother of his children will not talk to him so he has no way of negotiating any sort of visiting plan to allow him to see his children.
In all honesty I hated the fact that Mike had children, it was painfully obvious that he was incapable of caring for them and I cannot imagine that his former girlfriend is able to provide the children with the sort of care they require. To me his children seem to be the innocent victims in this case, they are paying dearly for their father’s drug addiction and both of their parents ill advised sexual encounters. Thinking of Mike’s kids made me realize that life truly isn’t fair, I have been given every opportunity possible, currently I am sitting in an airport returning from a weekend home so I could attend my girlfriend’s prom, a luxury that Mike’s children will never be able to dream of. In addition Mike’s children will not have the type of education opportunities which I have been blessed with, they may have to drop out of high school to support themselves because their parents are incapable of supporting them. This brings into focus what I believe to be one of the main reasons for the ‘cycle’ of homelessness, many homeless children of children whose parents struggle with homelessness, are forced to choose between their education and feeding themselves. I don’t believe that in a country as affluent as the United States American citizens should ever have to choose between basic education and putting food on the table for themselves or putting a roof over their heads.
Mike was born into a similar situation that his children were, his parents were separated and he rarely saw his father in fact he hasn’t seen his father since he was twelve. His mother tried to support him and herself by working two jobs, but she fell into a drug addiction when Mike was a sophomore in high school after which she was unable to support herself much less her son. Mike was forced to drop out of high school to support himself, he worked minimum wage job’s in fast food restaurants until he was about 18 when he decided to do manual labor because it paid better (somewhere around 8.50 an hour from what I gleaned). Only a few months into his first construction job he hurt his back (he still hadn’t sought medical attention but I figured it was something like a herniated disk) and was obviously unable to work construction, so he went back to fast food. Simply put Mike was unable to support himself on the meager minimum wage salary, sometime after hurting his back Mike fell into his heroin addiction and alcohol abuse. Mike didn’t offer any details about the beginning of his addiction, but I gathered that he was suffering from depression in addition to his back which apparently constantly plagued him with pain, these seemed to be the main reasons for his addictions.
I asked Mike how he delt with his back pain now that he was clean, he didn’t offer me a straight answer except for saying he used pain medication which led me to wonder if he had begun abusing pain medication.
Mike and children made me realize the hardships which many endure through no fault of their own and the unfair decisions that they are forced to make because the apparatuses which are supposed to help them (ie. the government and their parents) are unable to provide the essential elements to survive in modern society.

Project Homeless Connect

At first when PHC was described to me I didn’t feel any apprehension nor did I have any fears about what I was expected to do. The described task seemed easy enough, simply ‘babysit’ a patron for a few hours as they tried to receive public services, the fact that we were told that we would be waiting in line for extended periods of time irked me slightly as I hate standing in lines and I only assumed I would be far more impatient when I was waiting in line for someone else.
The task of developing an intelligent conversation with my ‘patron’ didn’t phase me at all, I consider myself to be a ‘people person’ and did not find the prospect of having a five hour long conversation with a stranger to be all that intimidating. I realized that I could get stuck with someone who had no interest in talking to me or divulging any information, I figured that if this was the case that it would be my challenge to open up my patron. I presumed (correctly) that I would be told some pretty disturbing and heartbreaking stories, so I mentally prepared myself not to appear shocked or judgmental to my patron. This proved to be a valuable preparation technique as I was shocked multiple times by the stories my patron divulged to me.
My confidence held up until the morning of the event, as I stood in line waiting to be paired with my homeless individual I couldn’t stop thinking that I was doomed to be paired with a heroin addict who would immediately hate me. Time would prove my fears completely false, I was paired with a 38 year old Hispanic woman named Veronica and a man who I assumed to be her boyfriend, who seemed genuinely grateful for the fact that I was there to lead her around. First we sat down as she and her friend at breakfast, as I began my interview, which she reminded me of. Firstly I was shocked to learn that she had been living on the streets, not in shelters, for the past two years, this would prove to be minor compared to what else she divulged. It became apparent that she did not work, I assumed this was because of some sort of disability, which she said it was. When I asked her what the disability was she became overtly secretive, making it apparent that she did not want the man sitting next to her, whom I assumed to be her boyfriend, to know what her disability was. I offered her a piece of paper and a pen so she could write it down, I had to keep my lower jaw clamped to the upper to prevent it from hitting the table when I read the note, AIDS/ HEP C.
I of course realize sexually transmitted diseases are by no means rare, the fact she had contracted these did not in fact surprise me all that much. It was the fact that she was obviously keeping knowledge of her condition from her boyfriend who I assume she had sexual relations with. I was tempted to ask her why she did not tell him, but I supposed if I did ask she would most likely feel so uncomfortable that she would leave. Instead I decided to not bring it up and concentrate on helping her in whatever way I could.
Veronica was currently receiving government money to pay for her AIDS cocktail, but had stopped receiving Social Security and food stamp benefits nearly a decade ago. The application for both of these services was complicated by the fact that she did not have a birth certificate, ID card or Social Security card. In fact without one of these it is impossible to apply for the others, Veronica was estranged from her immediate family (parents, sibilings) she had never been married and had no children, without any relatives to vouch essentially for her existence she could not receive and ID card or birth certificate. The bureaucracy with which the social services of Denver are run astounded me, as did the amount of paperwork required for the simplest requests, I would not bet against the fact Veronica completed a comparable amount of paperwork that I did when applying to college.
Overall I felt like I made a difference at PHC, I felt like Veronica left the Ritche Center better equipped to deal with the world than when she entered, and I felt like I was at least a small part of that.