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Food is Good.

Who likes to eat? Okay, put your hand down (I seriously hope you didn't even raise it).

Think of your favorite food and then imagine that you have an opportunity to share it with the world. Well, at least the greater Flathead Valley and its surrounding nether-regions. Now, add a different variable to this culinary equation: let's say we could raise awareness of our homeless situation at the same time. Still not convinced? Then I am afraid I am at a loss for words because what kind of monster would not like to eat and work toward a solution to the problem of homelessness at the same time?!

Samaritan House is in the beginning stages of compiling a cookbook that will serve a few purposes with one fell swoop of the spatula. While sharing recipes from some of the area's local restaurants, businesses, places of worship, and individuals, we hope to also raise some funds for our organization by calling attention to the following:

Who is homeless?
Why are they homeless?
Where can they go?
How can we help?

This is quite an undertaking and we have some incredible people donating countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears (which might not be the best phrases when writing about food) to this endeavor. If you are interested in submitting a recipe or would like to help us get this project off and running by donating towards it, please call the Samaritan House office and ask for Curt, at 257-5801. There will be more information forthcoming, but for now... bon appetit!

Home Is Where You Take It.

I've moved around a lot. Had the pleasure of visiting and living in quite a few places, both domestically and overseas throughout the years. But wherever the road has taken me, there were always things that reminded me of home. When the Steelers beat the the Seahawks in the Super Bowl a few years ago, I had to stay up till 3am to watch the game because I was in a different country. Being a Pittsburgh fan, I was ecstatic and felt an immediate connection with all the other fans even though I was in the United Kingdom. There was a bond. In spite of the fact that I was thousands of miles from home, part of my home was innately within me.

Many of our Samaritan House residents are in similar predicaments, although their membership to the homeless diaspora is not intentional; life is not how they planned it. They, too, have travelled and relocated and moved around from burg to city to township. It is easy to look at a person and see them in their current state without ever considering that they have an entire history behind them. Childhood memories and adolescent experiences have shaped what they are today. When our homeless residents arrive, it is essential that I take a step back and try to remember that they are not the sum total of their appearance. They are layered and have personal and intimate pasts that transcend the clothing they are wearing and the medicines they might be taking.

I was reminded of this as I was in our dining area this morning doing some very important things (making hot water). The news came on our communal TV and a lady erupted with laughter and joy at the announcement that the Patriots were going to the Super Bowl. She was from Boston and she was homeless and unemployed and sick and weary and... for one brief moment... she was connected with something greater than herself. She felt pride even though she was hunkered down in the Pacific Northwest and her team was all the way back in Massachusetts.

It happens with food and music, as well. The scent of a particular meal can transport us a million miles away to places we haven't visited in decades. We hear a song we imagined had fallen off the face of the planet only to have it usher us back to 8th grade. Home is a concept more than a location. It is easy to look at the homeless and see a statistic or a cause, but are we able to see people with a history? Individuals who long for the familiarity of the best memories form their past.

We concentrate on fixing the present and forecasting the future so much that we forget each person has an incredible story already wrapped up within them.

One Big Family.

Last week a friend of mine whom I respect greatly really opened my eyes. I had recently shaved my winter's beard and it was the first time we had spoken since the epic event. "Wow," he noted, "you don't look homeless anymore." He continued speaking to me but all that resounded in my head was this statement over and over... like a bad dance mix that keeps looping at a party you wish you weren't attending.

He was absolutely right. One thing I have noticed during my time at Samaritan House is that a great deal of our residents do, in fact, sport facial hair of all sorts of combinations and designs. How blind and jaded had I become by not recognizing that homeless people have beards? My life significantly changed that afternoon as I assaulted the streets of Kalispell with a new purpose to help as many homeless as I could. 

But then I felt a tad underprepared for this new task and thought I should do more research. I began observing the residents at the shelter and also noted that homeless people drink coffee. This would up the ante but it was, nevertheless, helpful. I thought how nice it was for all the individual coffee drive-through vendors to dedicate an entire business for the homeless. 

My next observation opened my eyes to something that had been staring me in the face but I still neglected to notice: The majority of our residents wore boots; hiking, mostly. I became saddened as I strode through a local grocery store one evening and noted all the people wearing boots. It was depressing to realize the homeless epidemic was spreading faster than anticipated. 

The despair in my heart reached its apex when a trip to a restaurant landed me right in the middle of a homeless camp masquerading as a local eatery. Sure, it looked like an average place where people gathered to eat meals in public, but what tipped me off to the reality of the situation was the fact that every single person was wearing either a tee-shirt or a button down shirt. Just like our residents. "Flabbergasted" is the only word that describes how I felt as I noticed that I was really homeless because not only was I wearing a shirt and boots, I was drinking coffee and had a smattering of facial stubble.

I owe much to my friend who opened my eyes to the problem of homelessness in the Flathead Valley. I then retired to my home for the evening to contemplate a way out of my ordeal. I did feel badly, though, for the other homeless people who had no home.

Knowledge is Power.

Remember the old School House Rocks videos? If you don't, then you need to stop whatever you're doing -after you finish reading this blog- and google them. Two things will happen upon completion of this little extracurricular activity: First, you will come appreciate the technological advancements thrust upon us by recent animation companies like Pixar and DreamWorks. Second, you will suddenly recall your multiplication tables while the catchiest jingles ever penned rattle around in your head the remainder of the day. You're welcome.

The anthem of these short, musical snippets brought Enlightenment ideals to every 8 year old alive in the 1970s and 80s: It's great to learn, 'cause knowledge is power! Learning was the key which opened the lock to the door of your dreams. There was no XBox or iAnything to compete with good old fashioned learning. Honestly, when the biggest distraction you face is Pong or John Travolta flicks, school work doesn't seem that bad. Anyway, the point of those cartoons aimed to show the importance of a good education was necessary for a person to start on the path to unencumbered success.

Fast forward a decade and a half and allow me to drudge up another image from popular culture. A few years ago I was watching a video by a band I like and I noticed a message scrawled across a guitar played by one of the members that said: ARM THE HOMELESS.

On the surface this pseudo militant proclamation can be very unnerving. Who wants to walk around a Kalispell where the homeless (or any population, really) are patrolling streets with a wide assortment of weapons and assault rifles? Not a good idea. So, after much contemplation and Internet research I decoded this mystical message and was shocked with the level of profundity staring me right in the face: This guy didn't want a 5th Column of homeless soldiers; he was asking for resources because knowledge is power.

The cycles of poverty that grip many of our homeless and low-income residents can be remedied by education. It is not a quick fix and it requires time and resources and funding but it is vital that doors remain open for these citizens to walk through. I am not saying education is THE answer, but it definitely improves the odds. Every day at work I see the effects of what a lack of education can produce: depression, self-loathing, boredom, feelings of insignificance...

Wanting the best for others is an admirable trait but sadly it is confined to theoretical discussions: "I wish I could help, but..." If you feel compelled to really help and you have the means, then please don't let life get in the way of another person's reality. Start a scholarship fund. Assist with after school programs. At the very least, don't get annoyed at the homeless guy in the library sitting next to you.

How to re/learn

When is the last time you relearned something? I don't mean going through the steps of a previously accomplished task or goal. Relearning has a negative connotation because it implies deficiency. We wouldn't have to relearn something unless we forgot how to do it in the fist place, right?

But what if relearning became re/learning and not just a rehashing of an old routine or practice, but an entire overhaul of a former thought process? Can we even do this? Is it possible to look at something we are familiar with and examine it without all the baggage that accompanies our beliefs and presuppositions? I thought I might try to get a different perspective on homelessness, but I am the first to admit the mere nature of my job disallows me to be as objective as I would like to be.

Children have a unique way of blending bluntness and honesty with empathy and sincerity. Perhaps the most beneficial way to go about this re/learning process might be to talk to a child. My son (who is 9) came to work with me today because it is MLK Day and he didn't have to go to school. I asked him some questions about what it meant to be homeless and the connotations that accompanied this issue. And you know what... his answers were almost identical to what any adult might have said. He had bested my investigative journalistic tendencies by not really telling me anything that surprised me. I felt a little defeated because my experiment had failed.

Shortly after our chat in my office, we meandered down the hall and into the dining area to put on some hot water so the residents could have coffee. This is a daily task for me so I fade into autopilot as soon as I begin this task, but my son was experiencing it with a keen awareness that I had abandoned months ago. What caught his eye and impacted him the most was the young girl, roughly his own age who was living at the shelter. Forget any lame attempt at an interview, I was re/learning by watching my son. He was shocked to see her it rattled him because (what he told me in our interview) he imagined homeless people were older and senior citizens.

Not this one. She was exactly like him.

And this is such an overstated mantra of nonprofit workers everywhere. We champion and sing it like its the national anthem or at least a really cool Radiohead song. "The homeless are just like us, only they've been dealt different circumstances." But do we believe this? Is there sometimes just a smidgen of patronization or self-righteousness that creeps in when we try to help them?
Do we have the ability to recognize the homeless as individuals and not statistics? Is their life so much different from ours?

How sad that it takes a 9 year old to teach me things I used to know.

Friday the 13th...

This morning it took a bit longer than usual to warm my car up.
I think I am nearly out of fuel for my snow blower.
The snuggie I received over the holidays is not my favorite color.
We are probably going to have fish tonight for dinner (had it once last week).
Both my kids have extracurricular activities on the same night.
Nearly out of recordable space on my DVR.
It took them 2 attempts to get my coffee order correct.
I am beyond bored with the apps on my iPad.
Really worried Tebow might not beat the Patriots.

Ugh.

I am so unlucky.