I Want To Live

Chapter Eleven

    Katie spent November completing assignments for online UW classes. She continued to accompany Major Goodman on her rounds. Many of the homeless accepted her presence, beginning to trust her as a friend.

     The Major was driving a side street near the University, a popular hangout where beggars shamelessly loitered. Angela sang in a beautiful alto voice while she drove, “Joyful, joyful, we adore thee. God of glory, Lord of love.  .  .”

     Katie had a question that she felt only Angela could answer. When the hymn trailed off, she touched the Major’s hand, getting her attention. “I’ve seen you praying with the homeless on our visits and in the car. Do you believe that really helps?”   

    Angela pulled to the curb, cutting the motor. Silent for some time before replying. She eyed her companion whom she loved as a daughter. “I believe praying sends our energy to the people we’re focusing on. I believe it affects them in ways unknown to you or me. I believe that God sends His strength, love and peace to help us through all troubles and sickness. Sometimes our prayers are answered. Other times I believe He walks with us through death’s door.”

    Katie could feel her infant’s fists against her abdomen, as if expressing, “Alleluia.”

Winter in Seattle has dreary, cloudy weather with little relief from insistent rain, especially west of the Cascade Range. Maintaining a positive attitude is difficult enough if one has a home to come to. The situation for the homeless becomes even more precarious. Shelters are filled to capacity where men and women are separated. It’s hard on families. After a certain number of days people have to move on, giving those on a waiting list a place that is warm.

    Many take refuge in bus and train stations, twenty-four hour big-box stores, hiding in restrooms in late night Malls. When discovered, the police tend to oust them roughly with nightsticks. “Move along or we’ll arrest you for vagrancy.” Sometimes kicking them as incentive to comply. Those huddling in cardboard boxes shiver through the night. Many die alone, suffering from pneumonia and malnutrition.

                                                                                          ----

    Gunnery Sergeant Charles Morrison kept a watchful eye on his people, obtaining surplus sleeping bags, extra blankets, long wool coats, hats, mittens, boots. He shepherded them to free kitchens for one hot meal a day. He frequented food banks for bread, peanut butter, jelly, cocoa, coffee, hot cereals. Their camp had a used Coleman two burner stove to prepare oatmeal and hot drinks. He spent his own military pension money. Since most of his charges were former soldiers, he insisted on a regular fitness program. If they also received a pension they were expected to contribute for the good of all. Nonmilitary homeless could join the camp but they had to adhere to a no alcohol, no drugs rule, and respect female members.      

                                                                                             ----

    The Christmas season was celebrated with gaily colored lights, bedecked trees, seasonal music piped in the stores, caroling on street corners, shoppers rushing to and fro for that special gift. Salvation Army bell ringers stood by red kettles outside grocery and retail stores, imploring shoppers to give money to support their programs. Having seen the services the organization provided, Katie couldn’t walk past a red kettle without donating. Where were the families of the homeless? Shouldn’t we be taking care of our own relatives? Then she would recall her father’s admonition, “You are no longer my daughter.”   

                                                                                              ----

    The Williams’ home was decorated festively for the season. A ceiling high Fraser Fir filled the interior with its scent, branches laden with ornaments and white twinkling lights. Katie had come to regard David and Patricia as members of her own family. She knew that was dangerous. It would make it much harder to stay out of their lives after the baby was born. 

                                                                                              ----

    She visited her grandparents over winter break. The snow on the mountains was a welcome sight after the dreariness of Seattle and rain, rain, rain. Stepping off the Lady of the Lake she noticed they were aging. More wrinkles lined their faces. Sagging muscles along the jawline. Paper-thin skin revealing veins on their hands. But they still had a spring to their step and love exuded from every spoken word. 

    “Tell us about your studies, Katie.” Grandpa wanted to know every detail.

    Seasonal music played in the background while their eyes feasted on the meal Grandma had prepared. The aroma of roasted pork chops laid on a bed of stuffing accompanied by a green bean casserole whetted their appetites as Meg brought the food to the table. Katie’s eyes teared as she brought a forkful to her mouth. 

    “What’s the matter, Katie?” Meg asked, concerned. “Have I lost my touch with cooking?”  

    “Oh, no, Grandma. It’s not that.” Katie lowered her fork. “I look at this meal---it’s delicious by the way. I can’t help thinking of the many homeless I’ve come to know and care about.”

    “Seems to me, you’ve received a calling,” said Grandpa. “I’ve never seen you so caught up in a subject like this before.”

    “I’ve been accompanying this Major Angela Goodman of the Salvation Army. You would love to meet her.” Katie’s face brightened. “That organization feeds the hungry, sponsors a free clinic to take care of medical and dental problems, operates a safe house for women at risk, visits some of the known homeless sites to distribute sandwiches, toilet articles and let them now someone cares.” 

    She paused, deep in thought. “I wrote an article on the plight of the homeless for an assignment in my journalism class. My professor said it was newsworthy material. That I was well on my way to becoming a worthy reporter.”

    Meg said, “That’s great news. Can one earn a decent living doing that?”

    “That’s just it, Grandma.” Katie shook her head. “There aren’t many job openings for reporters right now. If you do get on the payroll of a news agency, it takes years covering small community related stuff until you can break out with a headline story.” 

    Her grandparents shared that they were on schedule with preparations for the coming winter. 

    “We already have a cord of wood in the shed,” Harold said.

    “I’ve put up jars of canned vegetables and jams,” said Meg.

    “There’s plenty of meat in the freezer,” said Harold. “I was able to shoot an elk this hunting season. If the power goes out we have a generator on standby.”

    “We love it here in winter.” Grandma’s eyes glazed as visions of past snows surfaced in her mind. “The tourists are gone. Time seems to slow down. We year-round residents have time to visit and chat with one another. The mountains and lake resemble a picture postcard.”

    Over apple pie a la mode, they asked, “What are you going to do after the baby is born?”

    Katie sighed. “I’ll leave Seattle. I love David and Pat Williams.  .  . It’ll be best if I drop out of the picture though.” 

    “Where will you go, Katie?” asked Meg.

    “Claremont has its own newspaper. Maybe I could do some freelance writing. Thought I might try to find a job in Mittenwald. It’s nearby. Busy all year with tourists. Hope to find something with health insurance.”