I don't know what I was expecting when I signed up to volunteer at Stand Down 2011. Honestly, I didn't even know much about it. It started with my participation in a committee at work, an opportunity to get involved. After calling to register, I did a little bit of research to what I had actually just volunteered for...
Stand Down is an event that takes place across the country to provide homeless vets access to services and basic necessities. It's first program started right here in San Diego in 1988 and has been replicated in several states since. At the very least I figured this was my opportunity to give back to the community....
I arrived at Stand Down bright and early Saturday morning at 6am. The volunteer tent seemed a bit disorganized to the outside observer, and I found myself almost instantly annoyed. There wasn't much for me to do, but the organizers were keeping me away from trash duty - and part of me was sincerely grateful for that. Turned out my entire job on Saturday was to stand by the entrance (which was also the entrance to the showers) and greet the participants. At first I was a little caught off-guard. Surely there was something more important to do than stand around all day and smile at people? Surely I didn't wake up at 4am on a Saturday to stand there and smile? I wasn't asking for trash duty, but seriously?
It took me less than 30 minutes to fully realize just how truly important my job was for the day. My favorite mantra is "There's a story everywhere." In the midst of standing and smiling, I had my first of many stories for the weekend. Because of their impact on me I feel compelled to share them with you.
I met Jose as we went searching for his bag in the claim area. He has lost his tickets but desperately wanted to get something out of it. He described the bag to the workers inside the gated area and they went on the hunt. As we waited, he and I started talking. I asked what he was looking for in his bag and he informed me that his Engineering book was the only thing in there. He just wanted to get it, to make sure it was there, to read a little bit and then give it back. He began to tell me about going to school - the GI bill was paying for tuition and books and he was going to make the most of it. Then Jose told me he lived out of his car. It was then I learned that while the GI bill can help our vets return to school, it doesn't cover housing. Jose, a 26 year old veteran, was attending college while living in his car. But he didn't care. He just wanted to do well in his classes, get past the events that happened while he was on duty, and become an engineer. We found Jose's bag after a bit of a search and we sent him on his way.
My next encounter was with a man walking towards the shower. We exchanged pleasantries briefly as he tried to beat the rush. I took note of the vest he was wearing - Vietnam Veteran, Rangers. I wished him a good shower and figured I'd see him on his way back. And I did. He came back obviously happy about the chance to shower, whistling with an extra little bounce in his step. He walked directly up to me, stood eye-to-eye, looked at my nametag and said, "Thank you Jennifer for your service today." For once in my life, I lost the words to respond. Tears filled my eyes. This gentle man survived a horrific war, was now fighting the street life of San Diego, and thanked ME for waking up at 4am.
The remainder of Saturday was filled with men addressing me by name, shaking my hand. I stood, I smiled, and at times I fought back tears. I learned that most of the participants were simply looking for a place to live and their attendance was in the hopes that one of the participating organizations could help find permanent housing. And then I learned that the wait list for permanent housing here has over 800 people. The amount of time it will take the clear that list.....
My second encounter in the clothing tent was a man, his wife and their 13 year old grandson. I took the father and grandson while another volunteer went with the wife. There was something about that child that drew me to him. He looked so uncomfortable walking around the tent, so embarrassed to be there. It struck me that here he was, living with grandparents who didn't have the money or the health to take care of him, to raise him the way I had been raised. He was quiet, reserved. We dug a little bit and found what I considered the best items on the table (from a shopper's perspective), including a Hollister shirt with the tags still attached, some button-downs and some t-shirts that a 13 year old would be okay wearing. I shook his hand as we walked out of the tent.
And then there was Dave, a man from New Mexico who only wanted a new pair of eyeglasses and a shave. First thing this morning he asked a co-worker if we knew anyone who wanted a cat. His travel companion, a 2 year old cat, was living in the car. He had the cat trained, it was a good cat he said, but he realized he just couldn't take the best care of Solomon anymore. Not living in his car. What an incredibly hard decision that had to be.....what a heartbreaking decision to make.
These are just a few of the stories that Stand Down brought into my life. 1,003 San Diego veterans participated in the activities this weekend. Men, women, children, infants. And today, a father and the tiniest newborn I'd ever seen. From my discussions with event organizers, they had to turn people away because of capacity. And the fear is that as our boys come back from this war, the numbers of participants will only continue to rise over the next 10 years. As a nation we are incredible when it comes to a crisis. The collective "we" bonds together in times like Katrina or international tragedies like Haiti and Japan. And yet, we are turning a blind eye to an ongoing crisis on our own streets. Our government is pulling back on resources and funding for programs that are designed to help.
I talked to a long-time volunteer today about my job yesterday of smiling - and she said, "Because outside of here they are invisible Jennifer. Your acknowledgement of their existence is sometimes all they need to brighten their days." That statement alone breaks my heart. My personal belief is a hand-up, not a hand-out - which is really all that most of these people wanted this weekend. Stand Down was truly the most humbling experience of my life. On an given day we could all find ourselves in similar situations, just looking for a smile and a hand up. I have found myself suddenly grateful for all that I have and a desire to continue to offer that smile any way that I can. My greatest hope is that our collective "we" can all do the same......
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