Things I've Been Up To

As usual, life has been busy since my last post. Big events and everyday life eat up my time as we pass through the moments we all live in.

"Jesus Was a Street Server"
from our LACW website:

On September 30th we joined the Los Angeles Community Action Network and other groups dedicated to serving the poor of Skid Row, in a protest/street meal calling for an end to police harassment of street servers. Delicious food was served and a good time was had by all! Check out our photos.

 Reverend Billy and the "Stop Shopping Gospel Choir" at RedCat theater

I finally got the chance to see this theatrical, anti-capitalist genius in action. Eric and I went to see Rev. Billy and his choir on their "Earth-a-lluia" tour stop in Los Angeles Thursday night. The odd thing is that we paid $12 for tickets... but the Rev embraced the irony with humor instead of shying away from it. From his website,  before the show:

The Choir and Rev kick off our tour in the Disney Hall. This church was founded on the discovery that MICKEY MOUSE IS THE ANTI-CHRIST so please come help us embrace our contradictions. (http://www.revbilly.com/events/cali-tour)

Eric and I fully enjoyed the hilarious and inspiring show, which focused more on environmental issues than on those of consumerism.

And here's an interesting article about him (including a little background on who and what he is), that I read in the LA Times that day: http://articles.latimes.com/2010/oct/21/entertainment/la-et-reverend-billy-20101021

Among Broken Glass

I wrote this poem months ago in response to a dream I had about rejection and being homeless.

Among Broken Glass
 

Merrick Street, my old friend,
you house my feet as I queue
for the sustenance I once served
Joining the many other tattered souls,
whose collective  suffering is a heavy brick
crushing my ribs and imprisoning my breath

Tonight I will crawl into a concrete bed
with the smog as my only blanket
and the door of a trash bin's cage as my wall
The dumpster - no longer my playpen,
but my home
Rejection is the foul stench
making my heart ill

On my hands and knees among broken glass
strewn about the sidewalk
(my wilderness)
Slivered shards of lonely desperation
penetrate and pierce my deepest soul

The irony of loneliness jeers at me
as I am surrounded by numerous other "unfortunates"
whose smiling spirits often outshine their pain
I am still an isolated castoff
Overlooked by the crowds (just "surviving")
as I drown a dry emotional death

Suddenly
a gentle brush of skin on my skin
shifts my focus
And I am tumbling upward out of this hell
into a soft bed
where an undeserved love lies unmoving
undisturbed by my dark internal struggle
His eyes locked safely behind his eyelids
unable to see the nightmare from which I have woken.

Hippie Kitchen Reflection (Letter to JJ)

I was writing a (paper!) letter to my 18-year-old sister, who lives in Oregon, the other day and I thought that a small part of what I was telling her would be appropriate for this blog, as it is a reflection on the work that I do at the Hippie Kitchen. Yes, amazingly enough, people do still write paper letters to one another! My sister is an anomaly of this tech generation; she won't have anything to do with computers and barely knows how to use the features on her cell phone. The only other gadget she uses is her iPod, which is a fairly user friendly piece of smart plastic. If only more people could live without constant internet access [cough, cough].

Here's what I wrote to my sister JJ in my real-life paper letter:

I'm very happy with my life. Living in community is my lifeblood. I love sharing food, space and time with other people. I think it may be a part of my innate personality (I have been reading a bit about psychology and personality typing lately). I also love my "job", which I don't get paid for. These days I have been "working" behind the counter of our small clinic, where I pass out generic medications and hygiene needs, like soap or toothpaste. Today is dentist day, so I get to hear the exciting high pitched drone of his drill.

The soup kitchen I am a full-time volunteer for is called the "hippie kitchen". At least that's what everyone calls it. Officially, it's the "Catholic Worker Hospitality Kitchen", but nobody refers to it that way. It's been around for almost 40 years and some of the some of the original founding members are still here. Catherin is 75 years old and works hard, like someone 20 years younger than that. 

We have a beautiful garden space at the kitchen, an oasis in the heart of this grimy concrete jungle. This is called "Skid Row", this part of downtown LA. The name "Skid Row" is synonymous everywhere with filth, homelessness and suffering. The Hippie Kitchen is a break from that, in a way, with its tall, lush trees and pretty picnic tables. But it's also a display of the sad conditions of this place and its oppressed people. We do what we can to share with them our resources and to relieve them, for a while, of the hardships of the sidewalk. But, beyond the meals, shopping carts and painkillers, all we have to give is our smiles and our patience. 

 

In Solidarity

I slept more comfortably last night than any other time that I had slept on the streets before that. Of course, I had never had the luxuries of an open sleeping bag and a camping mat (nor the warmth of a body next to me) any other night out on the sidewalks, either.

Yesterday was the third anniversary of Los Angeles' "Safer Cities Initiative", a program set in place by the city with the goal of "cleaning up Skid Row"(links lead to articles relating to the subject). It's a highly controversial initiative that has poured 50 more police officers (over 100, if you count undercover narcotics officers sent in to falsely arrest afflicted drug users under charges of dealing) into the 50 blocks of the Skid Row community of Downtown Los Angeles. It has led to sky-high numbers of arrests and complaints of police brutality. In the opinon of the resisdents of Skid Row, and the minds of friends of the homeless (such as the LACW and myself), it is an unfair shift in policing that has led to the ciminalization of the poorest of LA.

(The picture is from a different protest, same issue. I hope that pictures from Monday night's protest should be available soon).

The Los Angeles Community Action Network (LA CAN) held a protest that evening on the steps of the Central Division Police Station (the station that is in Skid Row) to show opposition to the SCI. Eric and I joined the LA Catholic Worker, many homeless people, and other supporters/activists (including attorney Jim Lafferty) in a rally and the following sleep-in on the sidewalk in front of the police station with banners that read things like "Still no room at the inn: LAPD stop persecuting the Homeless", "LA must repent for criminalization of the homeless", "Lofts for the rich, cells for the poor" and so on and so forth. It was a lively action with good energy.

(they also went on to protest at the city council meeting the next morning, which I missed due to kitchen duties, but you can read a blurb about it here)

For me, it was about solidarity. I have slept away from shelter before, just as voluntarily, and always with a mind on those for whom such action is not an option, but a necessity. Twice it was for a week-long "faith outreach" with the JCs and once it was a two month journey with the JCs and our moneyless friend Suelo. Those times, we started with nothing but the clothes on our backs, as a time of trusting in a God who "works things out" and as a measure of identifying with the poorer half of our global neighbors. Those times were adventures in themselves and probably need to be written about.

In the meantime, let us ponder on our treatment of the less fortunate and to remember that the system's broken; how are we going to fix it?

It's up to us.