In all honesty, It was difficult to say goodbye to Salvation Army. While they are sometimes viewed as a bunch of naive do-gooders ringing bells at Xmas and doling out soup and secondhand clothing, I know that's a gross misrepresentation. I found the staff there to be frank and straightforward when informing clients of what was expected of them. Their judgment could be harsh but I never felt it to be unfair. Many clients who found SA too strict or unreasonable simply didn't want to comply with the rules or responsibilities they agreed to in the first place.
In my time there they gave me a place to stay, fed me, clothed me, sent me to culinary class and gave me some sense of direction and purpose when it felt I was ready to check out of this life. And while it was never smooth sailing, I must credit SA with helping me to reinstall a sense of discipline and restore a sense of structure to my life. The fact that I wanted out of there is actually a mark of success in my opinion. The clients who got comfortable with that lifestyle were the ones who often got kicked out and returned to street life.
It reaffirmed for me the fact that you can't help someone who really doesn't want to be helped. SA offers so many people the chance to change their lives, yet so many people seem to resent the effort. And it's usually because those people don't want to follow rules or guidelines. They don't want to give up their booze, drugs, or other addictions; they don't want to change.
At any rate it gratified me to know that many people there appreciated my efforts and considered me a good worker. It actually made the goodbyes more difficult. There are several people at SA that I will always respect, and I do miss them. Oddly enough, I miss arriving in the SA kitchens at 4:45am and drinking the too-strong coffee, and shooting the s**t with some of the guys. I honestly never thought I'd feel that way. What I wouldn't give to hear the 70-something F growl in his NY accent, "I'm takin' a f**kin' break and havin' a f**kin' cuppa f**kin' cawfee and there ain't f**kin' s**t you can do about it!" Always understated,that guy.
Anyway it was time to move on, and after a few days of homesickness (or should that be 'homeless-sickness?') I settled into my new routine at Grand Canyon National Park. As your humble narrator is getting lengthy again, I'll wrap up by saying this: I think homelessness is as much a state of consciousness as it is a physical condition. I can best explain it with a great quote (from whom I forget): “I've been broke but I've never been poor. Being broke is a temporary condition. Being poor is a state of mind.”
Make of that what you will.
Next time: New Faces! New Places! New Adventures! Same old Humble Narrator!
