I Want To Live

Chapter Seven

    Patricia scowled during the entire drive to the Community Center to drop Katie off at eight a.m. “I worry about you tagging along with Major Goodman, visiting suspect areas where the homeless hang out. You could be exposing yourself to danger.”

    Katie waved the woman’s concerns away. “I’m not afraid, Pat. The people are homeless, not criminals. How would you feel if others shied away because of the way you looked?”

    Pat had no answer. “Think of the baby, Katie. Now is not the time to be stubborn or willful.”

    Major Angela stood in the doorway watching the confrontation between the two women before Katie got out of the car. She suspected what the issue might be. Stepping up to the passenger door, the window rolled down. “Good morning, Patricia. It’s a fine day don’t you think? Release any concerns you might have. God’s heavenly angels will be with us. There is no greater protection than that.”

    Pat glared at the woman without retorting. Anything she said would be misconstrued as a lack of faith. The couple were devout Catholics and believed in caring for the poor. They donated money and volunteered their dental expertise, but Pat was leery about visiting the homeless on their turf. She pasted on a smile. “Have a good day, Katie. I’ll be all ears tonight.”

    Katie rode beside Major Angela Goodman in the Salvation Army van which displayed their distinctive symbol. Sadie had packed a hearty lunch for their journey. “You eat for two now,” said the grinning woman as she handed two containers to Katie, laughing on her retreat to the kitchen.

    A homeless camp, with blue tarps layered over makeshift cardboard shelters, was located on the outskirts of Bradley Park. The playground was empty. Vacant swings swayed idly with an occasional breeze coming off Puget Sound. Refuse barrels overflowed with discarded garbage. Graffiti decorated the exterior walls of the restroom.

    Angela noticed the distressed look on Katie’s face as she drove past the once vibrant Park towards the camp. “I know. It’s sad. Mothers are afraid to bring their children here to play anymore. Can’t say I blame them. Even Public Works employees refuse to clean up on a regular basis.” She parked in the middle of the enclave. Immediately ragged residents crawled out of their hovels, reminding Katie of Science Fiction movies that showed survivors after end-of-world catastrophes. They crowded around the van, mute and wary but expectant.

    “Good morning, everyone,” said Major Angela, greeting them in a spiritual manner. “I’ve brought some items you might need.” She slid the side door back to expose the articles within. The women pocketed shampoo, soap, and toothpaste. Blankets disappeared rapidly. The men grabbed soap and deodorant. The supply of water bottles diminished. Angela passed out vouchers for clothing at their Thrift Store.

    She lifted a tote from the van. “Katie, would you offer these sandwiches to our friends?” The contents were labeled on each wrapping. Many nodded or murmured their thanks, then scurried to their dens like scared animals.

    With their departure Angela closed the van and slid into the driver’s seat. Katie assumed her copilot position, shutting her door. “What are they afraid of?”

    Angela backed up and drove towards their next stop. “Life on the streets isn’t easy,” she said, shaking her head. “Even amongst themselves they’re vulnerable to someone stealing their stuff. Women have it particularly rough. Some men take advantage of them, demanding favors. That’s why females tend to camp together---for protection. Human decency often deteriorates to basic animalistic behavior on the streets.”

    “How do you manage to maintain your obvious love and compassion for them?”

    “I remember that Christ loves all of us despite our outward appearance or actions.” Angela smiled and pat Katie’s arm reassuringly. “The Bible recognizes that poverty, social injustice, and the homeless will always be present. Those of us more fortunate are called to take care of them.”

    She turned right onto a street running past abandoned warehouses and vacant lots. “God created all people in His image. His spirit lives in each of us. I speak to that spirit when I interact with the homeless.”

    Ahead was a camp that resembled a military installation with two to three person tents arranged in precise rows. A large tent, in the middle of the complex, enclosed their kitchen and meal preparation site with six picnic tables at one end. Angela steered onto the grounds.

    “Ah. Here we are. You’re about to meet Gunnery Sergeant Charles Morrison. He operates this veterans camp for those who find it difficult to readjust to life after discharge. He has compassion for those with PTSD, since he suffers from the effects himself.

    Gunny served in Iraq three times. When he retired he had anger issues and a drug problem. Ultimately his wife left him. I found him literally in a gutter, babbling and hallucinating. Wayne and I managed to talk him into staying at our Drug and Addiction Center. Once he was clean, he devoted his life to homeless veterans. Gunny runs a disciplined camp. Will not tolerate drug or alcohol use. His people look to him for leadership, guidance and stability.”

    She parked beside a cabin tent displaying the banner “Unit 51”. A man of medium height wearing camouflage fatigues stepped out to greet her. Major Angela rolled down the window. “Sgt. Morrison, how are things in camp today?”

    “Nice and quiet. Just the way I like it,” he replied in a deep bass voice, smirking. Cropped dark hair attested to his former military status. His muscled limber body reminded Katie of a boxer. Gunny projected definite leadership qualities, a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

    “I saw you at the meal site yesterday,” Gunny said, addressing Katie with lively brown eyes. “You can call me Gunny, like everyone else.”

    “Pleased to formally meet you.” Katie smiled, intrigued with the man already.

    “Do you need any first aid supplies, Sergeant?” Angela asked, getting out of the van. 

    “Here comes, Ron, now.” He pointed to a tall African American loping towards them. “He would be the one to ask.”

    “Howdy, Major.” Ron’s broad smile revealed stark white teeth. Long slender fingers grasped Angela’s extended hand. Deep set dark eyes hinted at his jovial nature. “What have you brought me, Mrs. Claus?”  He picked her up with strong arms and swung her around like a rag doll.

     “Put me down! You fool!” Angela giggled in mock protest, straightening her uniform when he released her.

    “Ron is our resident medical person. Served as a top notch Corpsman in Iraq,” said Gunny in an aside to Katie. “Makes sure our group stays healthy.”

    Ron gazed at his big feet. Shrugged his shoulders, embarrassed by compliments. “Shucks, Sarge.”

    Major Angela opened the side door. “I have first aid supplies right here. Take what you need, Corpsman. “Walgreens has donated bandaids, antibiotic ointment, gauze bandages, ace wraps, other sundries.” The items were in one U-Haul cardboard box.

    Ron rummaged for the items he needed. Laid them aside. “Thanks, ma’am.”

    “All right if we visit each tent site, Sarge?” she asked.

    “Please do. My people always appreciate it.”

    Major Goodman visited each tent, chatting with the veterans inside like they were old friends. The occupants were eager to talk with Angela, sharing their concerns openly. Katie accompanied her, impressed with the overall cleanliness of the compound. A decided contrast to the previous homeless camp that morning.

    On the drive back to the community Center Katie noticed some vagrants sifting through the contents of a dumpster outside a popular restaurant. Much gourmet food was discarded due to oversized portions served their patrons.

    Katie shook her head. “Unbelievable, people actually live this way?”

    “We are all God’s children, Katie. Some of us make bad choices. God loves and accepts us, no matter who or what we are.”

    Katie thought, Angela is the only person I’ve met who lives the principles of Christianity. Many loathe or pretend these people don’t exist. The infant growing inside her moved as if in agreement.