I'd been trying to find some resources for KC, my homeless friend. The same day Libby died, one of the first came in - that he should contact the people at reStart. The next day, I was worse than useless at work, so I took my notepaper and headed on down to the library to see if I could catch him.
He was in his usual spot in the reading room, and so I sat down and gave him the information. He told me he'd follow up, and I started to leave, then stopped. The reStart office was a mile away, uphill, and he had his bags to carry. I asked him if he would like a ride up there, he gratefully accepted.
Into the car we hopped, his bags safely stowed in the trunk. Once we got there, there was a wait to talk to one of the counselors. (Being homeless involves a lot of sign-in-and-please-waits.) I sat down with him, shortly someone came to ask what we needed. He explained his plight; she went away and came back with a list of places to call, a generic list printed off some site on the internet.
I'd been told they had a more in-depth program, some case workers available to help him navigate the system. I asked about it, and she went away again. When she came back, she said, if we could wait longer, someone would work with us to prepare some sort of at-risk form. Of course, we could wait.
As we sat waiting at the table, I took out my phone and started calling the places on the list. Place after place told me, "No, we have nothing available at the price listed on the sheet." I kept doggedly calling. Finally a different answer. "Yes, we might have something, let me transfer you." The call went through to voice mail.
That's when it hit me. How was KC ever going to find a home if he couldn't leave a call-back number? If he couldn't make the calls I was making?
We finished the intake form, and he was given another number to call. He'd be able to get into their program on a space-available basis.
To call.
I dropped him back at the library and went back to work. Not to actually accomplish anything, mind you. I got on the computer and started researching pre-paid cell plans. Much to my surprise, because I never think of them as the low-cost provider, at&t had the best deal going.
I stopped at the phone store on my way home, picked him up their cheapest phone, and added three months of service. The next day, I dropped the phone off with him. I briefly showed him how to use it, and left, feeling like perhaps I made a small difference in his life.
By the middle of the next week, he still hadn't used it to make any calls. Why not??? (I know he hadn't used it because I snooped - I'd kept the billing info so I could add more time to the phone, and I went out checked the link to see how he was doing.)
I tracked him down again, to give him a direct lesson in Modern Phones 101. Unfortunately, the phone was dead - he hadn't plugged it in since I'd given it to him. I took the phone back to my office, charged it up and downloaded all the updates. Since I was going out of town for the funeral, I left it with one of my colleagues, Greg, who managed to track him down on Christmas Eve.
Greg took him for coffee, they swapped stories. Greg showed him again how to make a call - apparently he smiled like a kid when that first call, to Greg's cell, went through. KC was set. Or not.
Back from the funeral last week, I checked; he still wasn't using it to make calls. I tracked him down once again - he was carrying the phone, charged now, but powered down, still in its original box.
**sigh** We're not giving up on him, Greg and I. Being able to use a phone may not be the only thing he needs to get him off the street, but it's a necessary part of the process. We have plans to track him down as many times as needed (he makes that easy by hanging out in the same spot in the library on most days); to spend time with him in small doses until he's comfortable with the technology.
Operation Do-Gooder continues....
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