tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42948548185959076662012-01-17T14:59:39.255-08:00For the fascinating stories we don't stop long enough to hear.J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.comBlogger171100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-36610572231425257152010-11-30T00:03:00.001-08:002010-11-30T00:07:10.503-08:00

It's been a while since I've posted any stories. This is due, in part, to the fact that I've moved to a different part of Los Angeles where there are fewer homeless individuals to be found. Yet even here I have seen several and met a few. There is a flamboyant character I hope to speak with soon who flaunts his live pet macaw while panhandling on the corner of Beach and Imperial, not far from

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-46558156786987656312009-12-09T18:37:00.001-08:002009-12-09T18:40:58.993-08:00

After my interesting encounter with the iPodster I decided to approach the other man in the park, someone whom I have met several times. He frequently loiters around the church premises, but to my knowledge has never participated in any of our meals, services, or ministries. He also has multiple names; nearly every time we meet he introduces himself as someone else. I suppose this makes him the

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-24370265237924442662009-12-06T22:02:00.001-08:002009-12-06T22:06:25.515-08:00

I spoke with DJ again today (more on this later). My wife had noticed him sitting in the park behind our church and asked me if I wanted to take him a blanket. When I walked through the rod-iron gate, blanket in hand, I noticed that there was not one man in the park, but two. They were sitting on benches about 300 feet from one another, each apparently oblivious of the other's presence. I decided

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-83968490274271658582009-11-16T07:46:00.000-08:002009-11-16T07:56:54.060-08:00

A friend of mine sent me this video recently. While this certainly does not reflect the story of every person on the street, it does show something of the progression many of them go through in their descent from "normal" life to homelessness.

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-42708594311575692862009-09-11T23:09:00.001-07:002009-09-11T23:23:07.761-07:00

The link below leads to a fantastic post from a friend of mine. Her family has gone out of their way to befriend several homeless individuals. The heartfelt elucidation of her feelings about her homeless-addict friend digs to the heart of what it means to love anyone, homeless or not. C.S. Lewis said, "To love at all is to become vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-82548467234895982582009-08-20T20:10:00.001-07:002009-08-25T08:14:38.690-07:00

Sam is not a Deist. I was wrong. He is about as vehemently Muslim a man as you could find. He is just not practicing. I spoke with Sam again today, this time both before and after the service/meal. He was dressed exactly the same, his beard was exactly the same length, the difference this time was that someone had pulled out all of his stops. There is no doubt in my mind that he sought me out

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-50672250871078078642009-08-18T09:04:00.001-07:002009-08-18T09:09:09.881-07:00

I have gotten some e-mails from readers recently that have contained personal anecdotes about homeless experiences and/or accounts of their own lives on the streets. Some of them are pretty interesting in their perspective and detail; so I decided to extend an opportunity to anyone who reads this blog. If you have a story about homelessness that you would like to contribute to the site, please

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-77090120759455760052009-08-13T15:22:00.001-07:002009-08-14T10:43:22.524-07:00

My congregation helped serve hot meals today. They did a great job (as always), and I was impressed with their hard work and great attitudes. I translated the brief sermon from Spanish to English and afterwards spent some time milling around and talking with the people who came. After the meal a certain gentleman waved me over to his table from the other side of the room. His white, week-long

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-80568659429616218082009-08-12T23:00:00.001-07:002009-08-13T14:24:09.349-07:00

I recently had an idea to start a podcast on this blog. I thought, "I could get a nice digital recorder, have homeless people tell me their stories, put the whole thing to music, and voice-over some narration like "This American Life" or "All Things Considered". It'll be a big hit!" Because I also interview people for my work at uwemp, it seemed like a win-win. A new recorder, a new feature for

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-81985988676919676852009-07-28T18:50:00.001-07:002009-08-13T14:22:31.754-07:00

I have had the privilege of helping our church's food ministry serve hot meals over the past couple of weeks. Hispanic women clack and clatter away in the sweltering kitchen (Hermano, ya estas sudando?) serving up delicious plates of food that would easily pass muster in a local restaurant. The can-opener went down this week so we had to use psycho-sized knives to free the canned carrots, corn,

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-40781824426103342462009-06-01T00:38:00.000-07:002009-06-01T00:42:09.813-07:00

I thought I was going to go through this whole week without having any conversations to post about. But I was quite wrong. Yesterday, for the first time, a homeless person came and found me instead of the other way around. “Am I bothering you?” he asked. “No.” I answered. But it was not completely true. I was trying to write a sermon in a prayer chapel, looking for some solitude and silence. I

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-6994790821041329062009-05-16T21:42:00.000-07:002009-05-17T00:44:03.527-07:00

I tutor some students on the weekends. They attend the church where I work and are in various stages of acculturation and English proficiency. Today tutoring took place outside on the playground beside the church because the weather was downright fantastic. This afforded us some unique opportunities for hands-on illustrations and experiential learning. I asked one of my students (she’s quite

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-54370482910352744872009-05-04T00:47:00.001-07:002009-05-04T02:21:48.145-07:00

If you will remember, in a previous post I mentioned the story of Nathaniel Ayers, a homeless man, and Steve Lopez, an LA Times reporter, as presented by 60 Minutes. The piece mentions that the book inspired by their friendship had spawned a movie: The Soloist. It has been in theaters for one week now and I had the opportunity to see it this Sunday. I must begin by saying that this film does a

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-14605523788835669932009-04-25T23:44:00.000-07:002009-04-25T23:47:39.166-07:00

He’s a tallish man, in his mid-to-late thirties. He has a long beard, which is a tell-tale sign of two things among the homeless (at least so far as I have been able to observe): 1) he has been on the street for a while, and 2) he has probably never served in the military. The veteran homeless generally have cleanly shaved faces or stubble. He has fringes of gray creeping in along the edges of

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-29518449143922131992009-03-22T22:06:00.000-07:002009-03-25T00:38:45.339-07:00

Watch CBS Videos OnlineThis is the story of Mr. Lopez, an LA Times reporter who was intrigued by beautiful music he heard coming from under a statue in Pershing Square. The chance encounter led to a relationship between himself and Mr. Nathaniel Ayers. Nathaniel was once a student at the prestigious Julliard School of Music, but because of insufficient treatments for his paranoid schizophrenia,

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-9274946511825771622009-02-23T20:11:00.000-08:002009-03-22T22:19:13.775-07:00

Last night I met Ricky and Stephanie. Ricky looked to be in his mid-twenties, and Stephanie a bit younger. They were at that same ramp off of highway 101. They live a fascinating life that I didn't know still existed. This guy and girl ride trains, semis, and hitch-hike across country... just because they can. They eat what they can buy or what people give them and sleep under overpasses. I was

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294854818595907666.post-46791994522849634592009-02-22T23:04:00.000-08:002009-02-22T23:38:58.494-08:00

Maybe you have met him. He is a tallish white guy with his face tattooed to make him look like a clown. He lives in the Mid-Wilshire district of Los Angeles. Every once in a while you can see him Northbound 101 off ramp at Vermont Avenue holding a sign that says, "Help this poor clown buy marijuana." Solomon has seen quite a bit in his 23 years. He gestures with a half-eaten Subway breakfast wrap

J. A. R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12485214308959455964noreply@blogger.com0