Homeless in Charleston: Part 2
Care and services organizations: a mixed bag.
Vince Shumate is writing from Charleston, SC, where he’s battling homelessness, trying to survive, and wanting to thrive. Read part one.
When I woke this morning it was cold. I was up and out of my spot by 4:30 AM.
I’ve been sleeping on the back door portico of a very expensive home that’s being renovated and that I have reason to believe will become an airBnB. I enter through an old wrought iron gate into a quaint small courtyard that includes three fountains, beautiful landscaping, and ground lighting. There is no lock or even a handle on the gate.
My policy is simple. Go in late, leave early, and never ever foul your nest. I always leave places cleaner than what I found them.
CSI would have difficulty proving I slept there.
After leaving my spot I went up to Trinity United Methodist Church. They have a tall outdoor cabinet with glass doors on the front and the lettering reads, “God’s little pantry. Give what you can and take what you need.” I found a small can of Vienna sausages and a small can of baked beans. That’s all I needed to get me through the morning.
Then I went to the Charleston Area Senior Center (CASC) for coffee and a light breakfast. I’ve been a member there for a couple of months now. They serve a free breakfast and lunch 5 days a week. There’s about 25 to 30 of us there for meals. They also have activities like yoga, tai chi, bingo, dance exercise classes, etc. There’s always something to do. I like all the members who go there. They’re in my age group (senior) and I get a sense of community. It’s the only place I can go for that feeling. The staff will help you in any way they can with whatever your needs may be. If they can’t, they’ll find a resource that may be helpful and point you in the right direction. The building is very neat and clean and the food is delicious.
For breakfast this morning at CASC I had a bowl of cheese grits topped with scrambled eggs, yum! I washed it down with two milks and coffee. Sometimes they have a surplus of food and put it on tables in the back room where the Meals on Wheels program packages food each morning. They may have canned goods and I’ll occasionally take one to stash for later. They also have a “take it with you” library of two full bookcases.
After breakfast I walked about four blocks to my bank in order to get a statement of activity on my checking account. I need it for an application for an apartment at Ansonborough House. It’s located next door to and connected with CASC in a nice section of Charleston and is affordable housing for seniors.
I met and talked with a tenant early one morning at the smoking area on the sidewalk beside Ansonborough House. He said he used to live in Mount Pleasant, which is across the Cooper River from Charleston. He said the landlord who he’d been renting from had sold the property and he had no place to go and was really fortunate to move into Ansonborough House and said he was able to get in quick. He said it only took four months to get an apartment there. There was (and is) a two year waiting list to get in so from that perspective four months was quick.
I don’t need an apartment in four months. I needed one yesterday. It got up to 74 degrees today but is supposed to drop back down to 47 tonight.
I went back to CASC to ride their WiFi, drink coffee, and wait for lunch. We had leg portions of chicken, sweet potatoes, peas, pudding, and chocolate milk. It was delicious as usual.
After lunch I was ready for a nap. Not far away from CASC is a performing arts venue called the Gaillard Center. It has a big oval of grass in front called Alicia’s Lawn (after Countess Alicia Spaulding-Paolozzi, who loved Charleston, her adopted city) that is surrounded by long wooden benches with no arm rest/seat dividers (read:homeless sleep deterrents) on them that are perfect for stretching out and taking a nap. I went to the only bench in the shade. I opened ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ and began reading where I had left off. The next thing I know I’m horizontal, the book is covering my face, and I’m asleep. My nap got cut short by an unexpected rain. It wasn’t supposed to start raining until nine that night and that was the reason I wasn’t carrying my umbrella. I was fortunate in the fact that the rain was light and my umbrella was only about a half a mile away.
Another Day
It was pouring rain a few evenings ago and Charleston is quite well known for its uneven broken slate sidewalks, not to mention that trees have the right of way. The roots of trees are protected by some historical law. And they should be. I like my trees, squirrels, birds, benches and shade. But the tree roots do grow and make the sidewalk bricks and slabs of slate uneven. Dangerously uneven.
If you ever get a chance to visit this beautiful city please be careful of the uneven sidewalk slabs, street bricks, and pieces of slate dating back to 1670.
The Reason I Tell You This — is because the other night I tripped and fell during a heavy rain. Watch out for the red brick crosswalks because they are like slick ice when it rains!
When I did fall on the sidewalk the other night I didn't just fall. I did a pure face plant. The results were not good. Not good at all. I went to the local hospital, the Medical University of South Carolina, MUSC.
At MUSC I was treated like SCUM. As usual. That’s what happens when a homeless person makes multiple visits without insurance to a hospital. I understand hospitals are built to make money. This is the United States, after all, but when it gets right down to it, even artichokes have hearts. They x-rayed my chest and said I had no rib fractures. They misread the x-ray. I’ve had multiple rib fractures in the past and I know I’m suffering from at least three broken ribs. It only hurts when I breathe. If I cough, the tears pour out due to the pain.
There’s not much you can do for broken ribs especially when you happen to be residentially-challenged. The ideal thing would be to rest up for one to two months for the ribs to heal. My rest time is limited to about four to six hours a night at best.
But it is what it is.
I am Vince. Homeless in Charleston.