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.

Want of a Nail

Imagine if you're a recovered alcoholic/addict, and after ten plus years of unrelenting effort, you've not only got two sober living homes owned free and clear, but are about to get a third house so large that it will double the number of people you can aid, and make your non-profit self-sufficient to boot.

Imagine, too, that you've conducted your affairs appropriately enough that this perfect and ideal third house - the last your non-profit will ever need - is offered to you by the sellers with zero down and zero interest, and on terms that you got to choose for yourself.

Well, like those who "win" a "free" car on a game show, the costs of that "free" car can be devastating.

So far we've spent more than $2,500 on a house we've not yet got.  Closing is the third of June.  How is that possible?  Well, $200 for comcast - for internet for the new house - and deposits for utility turn ons, and $1,285 in title work and "etc", and $800 plus for extending commercial liability insurance and a previous few hundred dollars on an attorney (twice) to give us advance advice, well, sadly we're closer to three grand so far. 

And we'll be paying $1,117 more on that date to the sellers.  And another - extra - $102 to the utility company that needs a bit more than originally planned.  And another $60 to the title company that needs a bit more than originally quoted. 

All before we have a single extra guest move in.  And bear in mind, this new house is only affordable by assuming a given number of extra guests.  And the figures are good.  I just went over them again, and month to month we'll be okay, even barring some of the to be expected random bobbles.

But we don't have those guests yet, though they are all - mostly - scheduled for the evening after the closing.

Are we then, the poor couple with no salaries or stipends, able to pull this off? 

Yes...ish.  We know that we only have to get over this first time, where all the costs are greatly extra and all the revenue still at the old levels.  Next month, the costs will be normal and the revenue greater, so we'll be fine then.

We had savings.  We had revenue flow.  We had generous donors.  Which is why we're as far along as we are.  And we had good budgeting.  We knew we'd be down to only $150 or so "extra", and knew that would immediately be going out to miscellaneous like a door lock or furniture or whatever else might be needed last minute.

But the "ish" comes in due to one main factor.  The commercial liability insurance.  As in no company wanted to insure us.

Oh, we've had homeowners insurance, of course.  But in order to get as far as we've got over the past five years, we had to forgo commercial liability insurance.  Till now, when we'll finally have enough houses to accommodate enough guests to afford it, and because the sellers won't close without us having that.

No one wanted to insure us because we've committed the two unpardonable sins in American business - we're small and poor.   We're just a small mom and pop non-profit.  A lemonade stand compared to the large ones like Sally Army or United Way.  They have grants and endowments, we on the other hand put the "non" in "non-profit".  And as such, I could tell the insurance agencies were saying "no" to me from the start.

After all, I grew up in Bloomington, Illinois, home of State Farm Insurance, and I was the son of an Insurance Executive there.  I know how insurance companies say "no", and it's by they avoiding giving you a quote for as long as they can, and if you persist, giving you a too high quote, and if you persist raising it randomly until you give up.

Which is why today - over a month after I started asking - I only now got coverage.  I had to call a dozen companies.  Then call one of them daily.  Then heard the first quote of 1.5 times as much per month as usual.  Fat and rich companies get great quotes.  We get lousy quotes, when we finally got that one at all.

Which I said "yes" to last week, not being a fool and knowing it had to be.  Then, since that surprised them, as they expected me to say "no", I watched them send me an email saying that they'd need it all up front for the year, or split into four payments.  No monthly plan.

So I said "yes" to four payments.  So they requested extra forms from me.  And I printed them off, filled them out, and showed up with the papers all in order and the check for the first quarter payment.  A $490 check, if that gives you an idea of the total costs.

They were surprised. 

Then after some hemming and hawing, they said that the check would have to be for forty percent of the annual cost.  I said I was quoted four payments.  They insisted.  I argued, but did explain by saying, "I'd not argue this if I had it, but as you're asking almost double, I'm afraid I'm going to have to stick with the quoted four payment plan.  You know, that quote good till July?"

After enough time of them playing with the computer for they to have wrote a whole new contract, they finally - almost gleefully - came up with a printed piece of paper that said, "Four payment plan:  40% for the first payment, and three subsequent payments of 20% each."

"We'll understand if you can't do that.  And we're sorry, our hands are tied.", they said.

I said that they were about to witness some real flying by the seat of my pants financing, but sure, I'd pay the $780.

Silence.

"Is that okay?", I asked.

"Um...it has to be for $804.60.", they said.

"That's not forty percent of $1,950.", I said.

"Well...there's the fee.", they said.

"What fee is that?", I asked.

"The $25 fee.", they said.

"For what?", I asked.

"It's just the fee.", they said.

Oh.  Uh huh.  Well, if it's just "the" fee, then I guess I'd better pay it, I thought. 

"Fine", I said.  "Unless there is something else now?"

"No", they said.  "That'll do it." 

I could be wrong, but I think I might have earned their grudging respect.

I had $808 in the bank I drew the check upon, and I had confidently expected to have several hundred left over, but now would have $3 and change left over.  But we're still in it.

Though now we're $190 short.  Oh, you who know math are thinking we're a few hundred short, but $190 is what would get us through the closing day.  Truth is, we already needed a couple of hundred more for an electronic door lock and maybe $150 more for miscellaneous odds and ends of furniture not quite got, so we could easily use five or six hundred bucks.

But we were already planning on how to take care of most of that kind of thing, so it's really just the $190 short that's the issue.  That's what we need to finalize on closing day.

So there it is.  For want of a nail ($190) the battle (third house) is lost.  Well, perhaps that's a bit dramatic, if I had to pawn the car at the last minute, I sure would, because I'm sure not losing this house, but yeah, we need $190.

If you're reading this, please do not assume others will give.  We spoke of savings and donors that got us this far, and so our "regular" donors have already gave.  We need some folks to kick in a twenty here, a fifty there, and - dare to dream - even a hundred.  That'll get us over this final hump.

Do not assume that twenty bucks is too small an amount, it is not, and would be gratefully received.  Less than ten folks giving that would have us there.  Four giving fifty would work just as well.  But any amount helps.

We're aiding six guests now.  After this, eleven.  You're never going to see another time in your life when $190 will make such a profound difference.

Here we grow again!

No articles in awhile, but we've been busy all the same. Saving money, looking to expand, finally it all came together. A third house! One right next to our first two!

We are due to close - after long negotiations now finished - on the 3rd of June. So we've five new beds to fill.

We do have those beds, though, so that is good! What we still need is a couch, a couple of living room chairs, a coffee table, some end tables, lamps, and kitchen stuff in general.

By "kitchen stuff", I don't mean refrigerator and stove and microwave, we've got those. I'm talking about utensils - knives, forks and spoons. And spatulas, pots and pans, stuff like that.

This is all coming up fast...and those are some crucial items, even they do seem small. Please help us find those!

And then, yes, besides ticky tacky like that, there is the matter of the precariousness of the changeover. Traditionally we have a "buffer", which lets us keep the lights on and the bills paid even if we're short some program fees.

This time, for this third house, and all the massive costs of that, we have no buffer. Which to be honest, is an entirely untenable situation.

True, projections show that this may "solve itself", assuming that everything goes perfect for three or four months.

But my wife and I can't recall even three or four WEEKS in which we could think that everything was going perfect!

A buffer then is a matter of given amount in the business checking account, sufficient to cover one month's operational expenses.

As it stands, we have four guests that are paying monthly, but it means that right when they pay, that money will have to immediately go to the third house payment.

A buffer would mean that we already have the house payment and the operational expenses, and each program fee only replenishes that.

One way of doing it is "fly by the seat of your pants" and hope that no one ever leaves voluntarily or involuntarily. The other is sustainable.

Now, while we'll probably save that buffer over the next four months, we do also have this year's property taxes of $915, so there's that.

Basically, if we're wishing, we'd need pretty much either the current taxes of $915 paid, or that $1,000 buffer kicked off.

Either would be a life saver.

Meanwhile, though, I meant it on how important the other stuff is, kitchen stuff, old couch, pots and pans. Help us out, please!

Help us help our five new guests to be out!