Recently
I received in the mail two magazines, both with glossy finishes
and done in an expensive format. These two magazines were devoted
to environmental issues; one on the subject of mining and it's impact
on various cultures throughout the world, the other on the search
for oil in the Arctic and the potential peril to the ecology of
the far north. Both magazines were good examples of high quality
professional journalism, scholarly and well written. Both were seeking
the attention of the citizen who is concerned about the world in
which we live. Both were strong advocates for their cause.
I am an advocate for the poor and particularly for the homeless
poor. One would have to go a long way to find a magazine that espouses
the cause of the homeless, which is as well done as these two magazines.
The cause of the homeless simply hasn't drawn the attention that
the environment has. Therefore I will attempt, in a far more humble
format, to try to represent those who are underrepresented in our
society, to gain the attention of people of compassion for the cause
of homelessness.
Here is a brief description of what goes on at the Prado Road Homeless
Day Center, and what it is like to be here. Prado, as we call this
place, is in the city of San Luis Obispo, just off Prado Road, next
to the city waste treatment plant. It is run for the county, and
for the city by the Economic Opportunity Commission of San Luis
Obispo (EOC). Our mission is simple: seven days a week, from 8:30
in the morning until 4:30 in the afternoon, we provide a safe haven
for those in our society who have no place to go during the daytime.
We are merely a link in the fragile safety net of support for the
disenfranchised.
As an employee at Prado, I often have difficulty describing what
we do here. An outside observer would see me mostly standing around
with a cup of coffee in my hand, wandering through the day room,
greeting as many as I can remember by name. I work hard on memorizing
names; it is one of my biggest challenges. After all, if you have
nothing else left, you have the dignity of your name. On a warm
day, I go outside and sit in the sunshine and talk with anyone interested
in talking. Not everyone is. But I do listen to a lot of stories
and answer a lot of questions. I have learned to play a pretty good
game of Gin Rummy. Card games are a remarkably good form of therapy.
I can even play an acceptable game of chess.
Some here see us as police officers. It is true that an important
part of our job is to keep order. We play a lot of "good cop/bad
cop" around here. I usually assume the function of the "good
cop." When we have a rowdy client, my first instinct is to
try to inject some reason into the situation. Sometimes reasonableness
doesn't work, so the job of the "bad cop" has to fall
on someone else (usually my boss). But among us we manage to get
the job done. We are often indebted to the San Luis Obispo Police
for their quick response when things get really difficult, as they
occasionally do.
The center is always understaffed. To tell the truth, it isn't
a great place to work. Employees come and go quickly. What gets
to you is the pressure. To an outsider it may not look like much
is going on, but beneath the surface there is a constant churning
of emotions. Many of our clients sit around or lie around, some
sleeping off yesterday's excesses, but many struggling with the
demons that always accompany mental illness. Some who go through
the struggle with mental illness do so in silence, but there are
always some who are unable to contain their pain. We have to be
constantly aware of what is going on, wondering where the next emotional
pressure is building up.
Our base wage isn't what you would call lavish, as a new employee
discovers pretty fast, but then we are told that all who work in
social services are underpaid. I have to admit I myself am something
of a dilettante. I only work three days a week, and I certainly
don't rely on my salary for my support. But others do work full
time and they do need every penny they are underpaid. Of course,
there is all the coffee you can drink.
Prado is a kind of warehouse. We try not to think about the place
that way, but it is true. It is one of the places of last resort
for those who have opted out or have been forced out of our society.
Perhaps this will become clearer if you look closely at the overall
population of the overnight shelter on Orcutt. There are two groups
represented there, those who are moving out and those who aren't.
For the first group, the night shelter is a temporary place of refuge.
They go to the overnight shelter following a hard day's struggle
to succeed at a new job or find a new place to live. These are clients
who are enrolled in our case management program, which is the first
step of commitment toward getting back to self-sufficiency. They
are saving money for the deposit on a rental. They have their children
in school. They know that their homelessness is temporary. They
are taking charge of their lives. These clients rarely get to Prado.
Most of those who spend their days here at Prado are here because
they have hit bottom. They don't have hopes of getting back to a
job or to independent housing. They may be faced with problems of
addiction, or they may be gripped by behavioral problems which society
doesn't accept. Because of the hold that mental and physical illnesses
have on their lives, many will never be able to live in society
outside of Prado. These have lost control of their lives.
So why do we work here? I can really only speak for myself, but
I think that we all work here because we know that this place is
sanctuary for those who come to us. The facilities themselves aren't
much. The chairs are worn, the tables are scratched, the coffee
urn is old and decrepit. But this is a place of refuge. Many of
our clients have lost everything, including their dignity, in their
journey here. Our job is to do what we can to help these clients
regain for themselves whatever dignity was lost on the way here.
We want to provide for them a place of safety in which they can
regain that dignity.
Jim Wilson works at Prado Homeless Day Center.
You can reach the Center at 786-0617.
