Fred.

Fred is my first client I had at the office. On my first day, they basically handed me his file and said, "Get him on a fixed income." I spent the first week grueling over the mess of forms and applications for Social Security that were hard to understand, trying to prepare for my first meeting with him.

When the day came that we were going to meet, I remember being really nervous... antsy even. How would I talk to a homeless person? Would they be aggressive? Curse alot? Smell bad? What if they are really abrasive? I had created in my mind this otherness about "them". (The need for us to define ourselves by pointing out what we are not is a nasty habit- but meh, I'll leave that for another post.)

The day came, and this short and kind, caucasian man in his 40s, walked himself very slowly over to my cubicle, and said, "Hi Ma'am. Nice to meet you."... and my journey with Fred began.

Fred and I spent months preparing his application as he bounced in and out of the hospital for his disabilities. We spent our meetings getting work done and checking in, at times we'd joke around together and have a good time. Eventually, he was approved for benefits- my first approval which was definately needed to reawaken my motivation.

Today, a few months after our last encounter, Fred walked into my office looking weak. His friend had kicked him out. He needed a place to stay for the night-desperately. Those of you who don't know, San Francisco has about 5,000 homeless people every night. Getting into a shelter at 3 PM in the afternoon is pretty much impossible.

I looked at him and he began to cry... "I just need to rest." I asked him to wait in the waiting room as I decided I would try to call each shelter and see if there was anything that could possibly be done.

An hour of intense advocacy and hounding later, 2 shelters called me back to confirm that they would have a bed for him for the night, and a meal.

I jumped up from my chair, exclaimed "YES!" and ran over to tell him. He smiled, and thanked me, and left the office.


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What's the value of one bed for one night?

A bed for one night does not seem like much to us- and by us, I mean people who've never had to worry about where they'd spend the night.

It doesn't seem like a big deal, definitely not something worth feeling great about. After all, he will be homeless again tomorrow...

Throughout the beginning of the JVC year, I struggled with my ideas of social justice and how I felt like I wasn't really achieving any justice for my clients. A fixed income? Whoopie-- A $900 check each month hardly seems just. I got someone an apartment? great-- they live in the ghetto where their rooms are infested with bed bugs. Then, I started thinking about the grandiose scale I had placed social justice on. I imagined social justice to mean having an unfair law amended, or saving 1000s of people from genocide. I forgot about what social justice could mean to one of my clients. I was looking at it through the wrong lense...

Ask yourself what a good night's sleep could mean for someone who's terminally ill and been sleeping in the back of an open truck for a couple months, in the dead of Winter. Social justice comes in all shapes and sizes- a bed for one night may seem like nothing to you, but it may be what one person wants and needs.

Tommorow's a new day, and Fred & I will figure it out... we'll jump through the hoops and hurdles as they come along, until we get him into long-term housing. Together, we'll figure it out and try to make his life better... using HIS scale, not mine...

...but for now, for tonight, he'll rest and get the sleep he needs and deserves.