Homelessness and Hunger - A Story

A Stranger in the House

When I woke up one morning, I rubbed my eyes as I walked toward the kitchen. But before I got there, I could see that there was a strange man sitting at the table shoveling food into his mouth. He ate silently and ferociously. I stayed hidden in the hallway watching him. My mother served him another egg from the cast iron skillet. “Gracias,” he said, without looking up, and continued eating. As I stared, I took in the sight of him. His face was sunken in and gaunt. He wore a knit cap, thin from wear. His jacket was stained and dirty, with holes in the elbows and tattered edges. His pants were too big, as if he had lost weight from lack of food.

My mom came around the corner. “Come on, eat,” she said, motioning for me to continue to the kitchen. I plodded slowly forward and sat down at the table, opposite from the man. “This is José,” she announced. I sunk down in my chair, feigning shyness. He looked over at me and briefly nodded his head with a barely audible, “Hola”.

Later that day, after getting home from school, I ran upstairs to greet my mom. I hugged her and plopped down in a nearby chair, absently twirling my hair around my finger. She was having a hushed conversation with my older brother.

“He’s a bum and he shouldn’t be here,” my brother declared. His eyebrows were furrowed and he crossed his arms.

“You’re only saying that because you have to give up your room. Have some heart and be willing to share. It’s just for a few days,” my mom retorted. My brother sulked and walked away.

That evening when my father returned home from work, an argument broke out.

“I can’t believe you are letting him stay here and you didn’t consult with me!” my dad said, exasperated.

“He’s been at the church for two days, Norman! What was I supposed to do? Leave him there again? It’s supposed to get down into the teens tonight. The shelters are full and he hasn’t been able to secure a bed. Give him a break, would you? Besides, it’s the Christmas season,” Mom reasoned.

“You know, Marianne, it’s one thing to help by giving to a shelter or volunteering your time. It’s a completely different thing when you bring home some stranger off the street into the house!”

“Don’t say it like that!” Marianne retorted. “I didn’t just get him off the streets!”

“We have the kids to think about, for God’s sake. What if he’s a criminal? Do you know him?”

“He’s not a criminal. I’ve been talking to him for two days. He’s been sleeping at the church and the only food he’s gotten is from the Communion bread. Otherwise, he’s just been drinking water out of the drinking fountain. He doesn’t speak English and he got beat up on the streets last week when some boys were trying to steal his jacket. He needs help.” She looked at Norman pleadingly.

“Fine!” Dad bellowed. “You deal with him. Get him out of here A.S.A.P. I don’t want him here a moment longer than necessary.”

Marianne smiled. For now, she’d won this battle. “Fine, Norman. I’m going to do the right thing and see if I can locate a shelter for him. But I will not throw him out on the streets when it’s going to get so cold. Besides, it’s just that time of the year when you need to open your heart.”

More about José

José stayed at our house for about a week. He rarely said much – my mom was the only one who spoke any Spanish. Little by little, though, he began to open up and was able to put two or three words together to contribute to conversation at the dinner table. One day, soon after he arrived, he emerged from my brother’s bedroom (who was still annoyed that he had to stay in my older sister’s room). He was wearing khakis and a white polo shirt. He’d already started gaining weight. He left the house soon after, having secured temporary housing and a new job.

Though I don’t know what sort of contact my mother had with José after that, about six months later he stopped by the house. His wife was with him, along with his two young boys. When my mom saw them, it was a flurry of Spanish and abounding happiness with the reunion.

When I got older, I found out that José had emigrated from Mexico. Back there, he had grown up in a small village. There were hardly any jobs. He used to walk barefoot through the streets and slept on the dirt floor at the tiny adobe house his family had built. When he got older, he got married and compiled a little bit of money here and there as he worked odd jobs in the Mexican countryside to move to the city. He thought there would be more resources there. Once again, he was caught in a rift of poverty. His children were still on the brink of starvation and he and his wife were suffering from multiple nutrient deficiencies. Desperate to save his family and himself, he made the perilous journey to the United States. By the time he made it to the town where he happened upon my mother, he was emaciated.

I was eight years old when I first met José. Though I’m not sure if inviting him to our house was the safest thing to do, my mother taught me a lesson about humility, helping the poor, and living in the spirit of generosity, even when it wasn’t popular.

Homelessness in the United States is a growing issue. With the current economic conditions, so many kinds of people, from all walks of life are joining its ranks. Affordable housing is increasingly scarce and coupled with high unemployment or underemployment, these numbers will continue to grow. In New York City alone, an all time record of 113,553 homeless people – including 42,888 children – slept in municipal shelters in fiscal year 2010, 8% more than in 2009 and 37% more than in 2002. In February 2011, the nightly census of homeless adults and children in the municipal shelter system - 39, 542 people – reached the highest point ever recorded. This is just one city! The numbers of these people could make up entire towns!

I wanted to highlight my personal story because homelessness has touched my life. While I haven’t experienced it personally, I know people who have. So, this Christmas, I want to emulate my mother. She demonstrated the true spirit of humanity and became a living angel when she decided to help José. She didn’t have to. Her family was angry with her. But, I still remember with great poignancy the benevolent spirit my mother imbibed. Her example has inspired me to try to be more, to give more. Thank you, Mom.

National Coalition for the Homeless

Homelessness in the United States

Coalition for the Homeless

It's surprising the amount of data out there surrounding this national issue. The reasons for experiencing homelessness are as varied as the people themselves.

Ending homelessness starts at the individual level. It's an issue that requires us to go out of our comfort zones and CARE.

Please visit the following links on ideas to help:

Help End Homelessness

Take Action

More information abounds in the following hubs about homelessness:

Help the Homeless

Causes of Homelessness

Information on Homelessness