Covid 19 Layoffs and Consequences

Years ago, when I was actively an alcoholic and addict, and could not even be responsible for myself, it would have been inconceiveable to me that I would one day have a dozen recovering men under my care, who would rely upon me to be able to transition from homelessness to self-sufficiency as I managed to.

Yet here I am. With actually 13 people being provided shelter, utilities, the internet, washer/dryers, garbage service and food, all for their individual kick-in of $280 per month.

In the best of circumstances, most reading that realize that $3,640 is not really all that much for maintaining three separate houses and more than a dozen adults. Yet in the "best of circumstances", and by the nature of this "business", we have yet to ever see anything near $3,640 during any month we've ever operated.

Or for that matter, ever see more than $2,520. That was an exciting month, the once that happened.

Enter the Covid 19 virus, a pandemic and a rather severe set of restrictions, that never minding the necessity, prohibits most of our clients from finding or retaining work. Work opportunities for those of us with criminal records - bascially any alcoholic/addict you've ever known - are always scarce, now they are...I am gropoing for a word that means "even less than scarce".

And there are those who are also what we in the military used to call "barracks lawyers", who think that everyone with a home cannot have anyone without a home leave, "because, I heard an emergency decree means no one can be evicted".

Which genuinely cannot pay for lack of job, job loss, etc, versus which ones are seeing an opportunity? Being not so bad at my job, I'd say that I am blessed to have no specific gold brickers currently. Thank heavens. Yet whether I do nor not, I am faced with a disastrously high 70% drop in fee revenue. Or rather, the drop is in the fee revenue I usually get. What's 70% less of the 66% I might hope to get?

Well, not great.

Having reviewed, rather thoroughly and at length, with each individual, I have every confidence that they are diligently pursuing such opportunities as still do exist, and that they are reaching out to family, friends, extended family, and lol, old college buddies. Or, as I have only half jestingly suggested, old High School friends!

That's not really going to do it, though. What will "do it" is when the stimulus comes in and the quarantine restrictions end in May. Meanwhile, the situation that landed upon us this first of April till today, the third of April, our customary "program fee pay days", has meant that we literally cannot cover our operating expenses.

Oh, we deal with that to some extent every month, but I'm a great juggler, and we've a tiny but loyal donor base, so we've always got by, but this time is MUCH different.

With the full knowledge that I am probably going to lose an entire house over this, and knowing that the bars on eviction do not technically apply to me, I am not having any guest leave over this. And for those who may not feel it appropriate for me to act on my heart on that, I would point out that practically speaking, any other guest I could scare up would likely be in the same low or no pay situation as our current guests.

I have instead worked out partial payments to each of our service providers, who in spite of their loud public proclamations of "no service interruptions" are not so tolerant when it is a "corporation" that owns the houses, as opposed to individuals. They may fear turning off grandma's power or heat, but they have no fear of holding a corporation's feet to the fire.

Granted, we are a mom and pop 501(c)3 tax exempt non-profit that has so little revenue that we don't even have salaries, paid staff, an advertising budget or any other "admin costs", but we still are a "corporation", and thus assumed to have millions laying about collecting dust.

Regrettably, we do not. So my response to the emergency is as follows:

I have opened negotiations with those who hold the deed on our largest home, asking for a one month grace period. They have every legal right to say no, but one may hope.

Knowing that if I did try to pay them now, various services will receive full or partial interuption, I have already used such fees and savings to pay the services as I described. If this must then be the last month for one of the houses, they will at least have full services till the last day.

I have called an emergency house meeting for this evening at 7pm so that they each might be fully apprised of the situation so that if it comes to it they have some lead time in finding other accommodations. For many, that will mean a homeless shelter. There are no cheaper places in town to live but the shelters.

I may yet today hear back from those who we are purchasing the largest house from. Everything may turn out well.

Being able to offer full payment, but late, or a noticeable partial payment more than the $500 I might barely scrape up on my own by next week, would be of value I think, in however it is they decide. And for that reason I am now writing this plea.

We need donations. Or rather, the roughly half of those we serve who stay in the largest house do. As an entity, we will of course go on, and still serve many, but not so many as before.

I am not speaking to "the usual donors", by the way. Those who are responsible for us getting as far as we have, and who's kindnesses have repeatedly made up the deficit when the usual momthly shortfalls occur.

If you are reading this, I need you to send a donation in. Even if "just" $20. I do not count any donation as a "just", and it saddens me that people think "that as I can't send in a hundred, then why even bother?"

Please. Bother. Obviously more is better than less, but just as obviously less is better than none. And we are about everything else we can be, some surplus appliances we keep on hand for emergencies have been sold, such economies as can be had are being had, any reduction in any expense is being pursued, to the extent it wasn't already being pursued.

But we've always been bare bones, there really is no "Fat" to trim.

Please go to our website and PayPal us a donation. In some ideal world, we'd receive $1,117 total. But I could keep the balls in the air till the recovery for even five or six hundred dollars.

Our Food Pantry

490 Outreach, our non-profit most known for running three sober living homes and aiding a dozen plus people in recovery from alcoholism and addiction, also runs a food pantry.

As a registered food agency, we deliver to sober living homes, group homes, halfway homes for released prisoners, battered women's shelters, and then a whole slew of families and individuals.  Usually those living in low income apartments, broken down homes or motels that rent by the hour or the week.

During the best of times, our biggest expense is actually the gasoline on our Ford E350 cargo van.  Which is needed to pick up all the tons - literal tons - of free food we get from charities, grocery stores and the USDA each month.  It gets 12 miles per gallon.  But that's highway.  If we assume the highway is on a steep downhill grade, the road is icy and a gale force wind is behind me!

Other than that, I'd be frightened to figure out what it really gets per gallon, in town.  Which is the only thing I use it for.  In town food deliveries.  There's a church that gives me $80 a month to defray the gas cost.  That doesn't pay for the gas, that defrays the total cost, which is much greater. 

In my whole life, before the food pantry, I ran out of gas once.  Since the food pantry deliveries a few years back, I've lost track of how many times I've ran out. 

Now, due no doubt to us messing with some oil nation, gas prices are at $2.00 a gallon, or even a bit below $2.  But due to the Corona virus and panic buying, deliveries are massively up.  Today, for instance, as I write this, there are deliveries I could make, but I'm grounded, as there is literally no gas or money for gas. 

We're getting some money - hopefully - tomorrow.  Money we had expected to get today, and come to think of it, we still might not get tomorrow!  If it does come, that will let us go pick up yet more food from two local grocery stores.  And deliver to three halfway homes for released prisoners, a motel in which 70% of those who stay there avail themselves of our services, half a dozen regulars, and one recent addition, a woman who lost her job as the schools and daycares are closed, and she must stay home and watch the kids.  And the ever dwindling refrigerator because her two kids persistently still eat!

She's hardly the only one hit.  Many job losses - and in the professions that pay the least.  Yeah, like restaurant workers.  And then to add to the difficulty of all the newly unemployed clients waiting that "First week nothing" policy, there's all the panic buying that is making it hard for those who do have some funds to find the stuff they need to buy.  Because some rich guy, who's never suffered a day in his life, or prepared for any disaster, just had to go buy $200 worth of Charmin, $200 worth of bottled water, and at his wife's suggestion, $500 worth of diapers.

Well, he's fine now, not that he was ever in any danger.  But those who have a bit of money, but not much, or who got to the store late - they aren't fine.  But since the shortage is artificial, pantries like ours, who have no trouble ordering food and toiletries by the metric ton, can make up the difference.  Except for the gas.  "Gas Pantries" don't, unfortunately, exist, though how cool would that be? 

Are you waiting for the pitch?  Well, you just read it.  We need gas.  That is, money for gas.  Oh, not as a regular thing, though that'd sure be nice if I could find another $80 a month donor.  But for the literal immediacy of the moment in this time of artificially induced demand.  We need $50.  It will, with care, get us through the next eight day period, from tomorrow's pick up to the next Thursday after that. 

We're at 217-720-2568.  If that's something you can aid in, know that never will $50 go so far as this does.  We're talking about 75 or so people, most all with families, who will benefit from it.  A darn good return on the invested donation.  And if you read this later, and the week has already came and gone, don't worry!

There's always another week, another 75 plus people, more need!  Jesus did not lie when He told us that the poor we will always have with us!  $50 can, at any time, aid us in getting the food - and toilet paper! - out to those who have real need for it. 

Oh, and if any locals are reading this - in the Springfield area - are in need, or lacking some essential supplies, please, call us!  We'll figure something out!

Unsupported Troops

Every day the mail comes, and every day an old disabled veteran who lives in one of our homes hobbles out to the porch to either get the mail from the postman, or come get me if it already went into the locked mail box.

And every day I check through all the mail and let him know that there is no letter for him from the Social Security Administration.

And every day he smiles nevously and says, "I know, I know."

Because every day I must reassure him that he is not going to have his disability payments ended.

This is the legacy of the Trump Administration, where men who put their lives on the line in actual combat must hear this draft dodging blowhard babble about trimming, cutting or ending every program that in any way helps anyone but his rich cronies.

For such a militaristic nation, one that spends more money on "defense" then the next 25 largest, richest and most powerful nations combined, we sure don't have much "give a crap" for the soldiers afterwards.

And to be fair to Trump, this has been a problem since...oh, when was the Whiskey Rebellion again? I mean, I'm 51 years old, and I've watched since childhood the media and their coverage of this. Every five years they do an "expose" about the fraud, waste and abuse they just "found" in the Veterans Administration. Or a dozen other agencies, departments and such that have grown fat feeding off of the pretense of aiding those who served.

Then silence. Nothing changes. Five years later, during a slow news cycle, they do it again.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

The victims of this perpetually unchanging crap are disproportionately homeless, addicted and suffering from a host of mental health issues usually stemming from PTSD.

"We Support Our Troops!" - until they're back. Then, while yes, there are a myriad of programs - underfunded, understaffed and mismanaged - it mostly falls to churches and charities to aid them.

You see, the mental issues lead to self-medicating with drugs and booze, and that leads to joblessness and homelessness. No, this does not happen to all veterans, many can and do - with more effort than they're always up for admitting - adjust and have jobs and homes.

But as to those who don't? Then local churches let them sleep undisturbed in their parking lots, or let them keep their meager belongings there, and/or aid them with food as they can.

If he didn't drink he could get shelter, and if he had an address he could qualify for rehab.

And those who just aren't up for jumping through the hoops of housing assistance, or are told they don't qualify, can sometimes be blessed to stumble across sober living homes, which are almost uniquely suited to disabled vets.

They're cheaper than dirt, they provide most everything, it's a safe environment, and "stop drinking" is about the only qualification. I get a lot of disabled vets. I know darn well that some are using me as a discount assisted living facility. With me the wholly unqualified assister.

Fortunately for them, I am a vet. I was blessed to have served during one of America's infrequent peaces, and thus am not disabled, but two out of three of my sons are veterans - who served in Iraq and Afghanistan - my father and uncle served during Vietnam, and both my grandfathers were in World War II. So I know vets.

But man, who am I? I'm just the guy who grabbed his own ears and pulled his head out of the bottle - barely - and monomanically insisted on buying fixer uppers after fixer uppers until I could have an actual bona fide 501(c)3 tax exempt charity.

Why is the saftey and security of disabled veterans left to me and my counterparts? Oh, I don't mind in the least, it's an honor, really, but I can't get them all they need. Food, clothing and shelter, sure. But for everything else, the most I can do is track down which agency is supposed to do it, plow through all the paperwork hurdles to get them qualified, then usually drive them hours away to where some rare facility that might have a bit of aid in them is.

It is a shame and a disgrace. One that every administration participates in. It is LONG past time that we aid veterans "period". No exceptions. No, "But do they really need it?" No, "But my brother is a vet and he's okay!" No, "But giving out free stuff is socialism!"

We give billion dollar bailouts to the rich executives who looted their own companies in the first place, and they use those taxes to give themselves bonuses. If they're worth that, then any veteran is owed by right free medical care, food and shelter, if - in their sole opinion - they need it.

Contrary to popular belief, the percent of people who can work but do not is NEVER very high. Especially not among the class of citizens who had so much energy that while other 18 year olds were drinking in college said, "I'd like four years of hard, dirty, dangerous and underpaid work!"

Oh, and relax, heaven forbid I advocate any luxurious houses, gourmet foods and world class health care for them. But would guaranteed food stamps, guaranteed shelter that is warm and safe, and basic health care - including mental health counseling - be really too much to ask?

What's that I hear? Some reading this are calling out, "Hey! That stuff is already in place!"

Not really. There's a lot of hoops, and if those damaged in body, mind and soul don't get two dozen forms filled out correctly and make 17 different appointments in four different counties or if they miss this or fall short of that or don't quite qualify fully for the other, then they are denied.

Assuming that they did not simply give up halfway through and go buy a $2 forty ouncer about one minute before you drive past them on the street and think, "Why don't they get the help that my taxes pay for?"

Your taxes pay for the graft you read about so routinely. And the over-bloated salaries of the administrators who preside over crumbling and outdated facilities. And political appointees who buy $30,000 dinner sets. And the sweet heart deals and no-bid contracts. And the legion of bureaucrats who's job is apparently to thwart and frustrate everyone who seeks aid. And the doctors who found private practice too demanding.

The reform I advocate - guaranteed and unconditional basic shelter, food and medical care for all who served - is never going to happen.

But while I'm down here in the trenches soothing those who's nation has forgot them, would it be too much to ask that we cease and desist with this terrible advocacy of taking away what little we let them subsist on?

Grounded!

Under the category of "best of times, worst of times", we had a van donated to us, which was handy as both our vehicles had crapped out at once.

Yay!

But we knew we would not be able to afford to register it till the first of October.

Still, by very carefully riding about in the car with the faulty tranny and no brakes, we got pretty far through the month. And then, we were grounded, as we only had the donated - and unregistered - van.

Still, life goes on, and while I could cancel rides and errands and find rides or use a bicycle or reschedule, my life is pretty busy, and inevitably, a food pick up appointment came that could not be dismissed or rescheduled.

Yeah, you see this coming.

Got pulled over. Mercifully, by a State Trooper, thank heavens.

Why was that good? Because in the hierarchy of law enforcement, the more power they have, the more professional and courteous they are.

Campus police are the worst. Having the least authority they demand the most respect. Local police are scarcely better.

County deputies are much better, they've more legitmate authority and so don't need to demand respect, as they play by the old fashioned rules and just earn it.

And State Troopers are even better, having greater authority and taking our respect for granted. By the time you get to the FBI, it's not even an issue, they're polite as it would not occur to them that anyone would not respect them. And they're right.

(And if you are thinking of a local police officer exception, then you are thinking of an officer who is confident enough in his own competence not to rudely demand an unearned respect. A rarity, but such do exist.)

So I explained to the Trooper why I had no license plate, no registration, no insurance or papers, no proof that it was my vehicle at all.

For "evidence" I had a church bulletin, USDA food I was hauling for a local food agency to aid in feeding the poor, and whatever worth the winning smile of a fifty year old fat man is!

(I suspect that last was probably not worth much!)

I was rather eloquent, and did have on my side that I was telling the truth. Though finally at one point I did say, "Okay, I got nothing."

He asked if he could search the van, and libertarian anarchist that I am, I immediately said, "You bet!" and opened all the doors. He gave a look at the stacks of rice and dried beans, the church pamphlets, my food receipts. It really was the only reason I was driving it.

Of course, besides being courteous, he was also professional. He did verify my story. And he could not let me drive the vehicle any more.

But he left me in peace to call roadside assistance to have it towed back to my house. We've free towing through a remarkably cheap insurance through our cell phones of all things.

Of course, the downside is that now I can't drive that van till it's registered. Only those with a heart as somewhat semi-pure as mine was are going to catch even one break, not even Mother Theresa would catch a second one!

So if you or someone you know has $150 to donate to a good cause, let me know! Otherwise, you know where I'll be till the 1st! Sitting patiently next to the van, grounded!

(Oh, and for any who might be outraged at me getting too good a break, he did give me a ticket. The break was that it was "a" ticket, readily affordable, and not the half dozen budget busting ones he could have tossed out.)

Surrogate Dadhood

"Can you see what this says for me? I don't always read so good.", said a guest to me two days ago. Which translated means, "I cannot read, but I'm downplaying that because it makes me feel ashamed."

But let me back up. I was over at one of our sober living homes, and one of the guests asked if he could talk to me. Which always means, "Can we talk privately?" I figured maybe he had some complaint against another guest, so we walked out to the porch.

That's when he showed me the application for a job at a gas station.

He's not the first to approach me on this matter. And I think of these requests when I hear, as I sadly still do, some ask, "Why don't they just get a job?"

Yeah, believe me, I know some who come through our doors for who that might be the best advice they could ever get. But while the perpetually and unrepentedly lazy exist, much more often there are underlying problems that make the word "just" a terrible word.

"Just" get a job.

We've noticed for some years now that while alcoholics and addicts come from all economic and educational levels, recovery is definitely harder if you started with a lower level of either.

For me, putting down the bottle meant that my upper-middle class upbringing - in education, outlook, manners, dress and bearing, and such - could then kick in. And that the good Lord, my parents, my childhood church, and my fancy right side of the tracks schools, that it did.

It was a year into our ministry before we realized that not all our guests were going to be able to simply get a job and buy a house like I did.

Part of it is IQ. Some were born with easily ten to twenty IQ points less than they would have had, but mommy had to smoke, drink or drug - or all three - during pregnancy. Ponder what you'd lack if you had started with that handicap.

Part is education. Some didn't get to go to the public schools on the good side of town, but were relegated to the supposedly integrated schools that the poor folk get. And yeah, they're "integrated". They accept poor blacks and poor whites and poor asians alike, and if you're picturing which group is represented most and least, yeah, you've probably guessed right.

Part is simply the culture of poverty. I was raised to know and expect that every thing was available to me. The country was mine, and I could choose to do anything I liked in it. But the poor of all colors are raised knowing that nothing is open to them. Maybe getting a sweet construction job or union gig would be the peak of what they'd dare to dream of - positions that most of us would only regard as a punishment.

Part is our broken families. We used to despise all single mothers as fallen women, now we regard them all as saints. The truth is always in the middle. But saint or sinner, kids just don't do as well in single parent homes, and while it's heresy to say it nowadays, they also don't do as well when they do not have a mother AND father to learn by example from.

Another part, pertaining to broken families, is the lack of fathers. Mothers may nurture, but it's dads that typically go over the nuts and bolts of life - especially and crucially with sons. How to apply for jobs, how to buy a car, how to haggle and negotiate for anything, how to not be got over on. By example and instruction, dads teach these things - if they're there, and not as broken as those they're raising. Sadly for them, there are a noticeable number of them for whom I'm the first fatherly figure they've ever met.

Part is our entire police and judicial system. It discriminates against he poor, which means "disproportionately minorities". Police are more likely to arrest a poor young man than a better off young man. And if the poor young man is also black, they are even more likely to arrest them. And without bail or a private attorney, the poor get worse deals offered to them by the DA, and are more likely to do time if they are obstinate enough to take it to trial. Most don't take it to trial, though, as they know the system is stacked against them, so they are more likely to "plead out" and take "deals" that mean they now have a conviction on their record forever.

Which makes it hard to ever get any kind of "decent" job.

I could go on. And yes, part of the reason for the failure of our guests is that they are alcoholics and addicts. Though I think some of you reading this can start to realize that in some cases - not all, but some - their own initial backgrounds and upbringing and societal forces made them far more likely to develop a problem with alcohol and drugs than the better raised person.

And certainly then addiction, in a feedback loop, makes worse whatever lousy situation they were in. So when I get a guest, I'm faced with the bleak knowledge that even if they put down the bottle - or pipe or syringe - and keep it down, that they are still at the bottom of a very high mountain and would have been unlikely to climb up it very far even if they had never drank or drugged at all.

My job, I've noticed over the years, is not so much in giving pep talks about alcoholism and addiction, though it is that of course, but also being some kind of half-assed surrogate "father" or at least a kindly "uncle" to men who have apparently either never had such, or only got the poorest examples of such.

There's so much we take for granted. Not just being able to read an application, but how to dress for an interview. I tie ties for some of the men. I learned how from my dad, they learn how from me. I take them to the store and show them what they need to wear. No one had taught them. I tell them what to say or not say. Which is mostly, "Don't volunteer stories or explanations or examples. Just answer briefly but politely. And don't ask how much the position pays, they aren't going to negotiate, so it'll be whatever it is."

It would break your heart how some try and fail without knowing why. And you must be so careful not to wound their pride. What do you say when you see a guest who having been released from prison after ten years is going out for his first interview - in a suit he bought from a second hand store?

You know the job he is applying for is going to turn him down instantly for he being silly enough to wear the suit, even if it did fit appropriately and was worn correctly, which it doesn't and isn't. I strive to be aware of what each guest is doing so I can "pre-emptively advise" so as to avoid having to correct - and thus possibly crush - them later. Slacks, a button down, and I have pre-tied ties on hand. And I know where to get them the slacks and button down.

And no, it's not that they're dumb or you and I smart. It's just we take so much for granted. Knowing which jobs to wear what at. Knowing that the pant cuff should break off the top of the shoe. How you'd only button two buttons on a suit jacket even if wearing a suit was appropriate. Which colors do and don't go. All stuff learned from dad or folks you'd meet growing up in church, or folks you'd meet and imitate in college. We get it by osmosis, but they were often never exposed to any of those influences.

And literacy. Not just in reading and writing, but in all manners of background knowledge we take for granted, but were denied to so many others who we host. But literacy, that's a big one. What a priceless gift to be raised appropriately enough to read fluently. If you could see some sweating over even a food aid application, well, that also would break your heart.

And trying to encourage them in a world that is very discouraging to the less than fortunate ones. I started off trying to offer how they could learn to buy their own house. But not a one back then didn't look at me like I'd lost it. Houses were for the uppers. Not for them. I'm often times quite persuasive, but not for such an extravagantly large pipe-dream as that.

Now I strive only to encourage them to reach for the distant dream of a decent job, a decent used car, a modest apartment. Which in this nation is not so bad a life, and fairly doable for any who do put the bottle down and follow basic advice.

But what would seem so easy to you reading this, or I, is such a terrible struggle for so many we deal with. And most of it is not their fault. Yes, yes, some is, but much is not. For them, attaining the bottom wrung of our society - the restaurant job, the beater car, the efficiency apartment - takes an effort that were we to expend such would have us shooting for some Fortune 500 CEO position. And I'm not exaggerating by much.

And what do you do when they're set back by our society, or their past, or flubbing it, or all three? You must parse what was beyond their control - much - and what is yet within their control - a bit - and try to pep talk them into trying again. Gently. Without wounding any pride, because that would only frustrate them and make them give up rather than risk being embarrassed again. And if they give up, it's back to the bottle, that's always a given.

Meanwhile, that is one of the enormous reasons for why Sober Living Homes such as ours are so incredibly important. So such wounded ones can rest and recover from their active addiction, sure. But also to have a safe haven where the least job will give them some breathing room from the pitfalls and perils of normal life, where no matter what, they have a roof, some food, and some advice.

And to have me fill out an application and point to where they can scratch an illegible signature at the bottom. And to tie ties. Yes, it makes me feel like a dad. But like a dad who's kid came back from some terrible battle and must have far, far more care than we'd ever wish any son could ever need.