By Ashley Arbor
LANSING, MI — I am a small town guy who comes from a middle class background. Often times people think I’m a college student, not the stereotype of what homelessness conjures up. In fact, I found myself homeless two years ago.
After a roll over accident fractured my pelvis, I was in Chelsea Community Hospital for approximately a month. Neither of my parents were able to let me stay with them after I was discharged. Hospital staff was kind enough to endlessly research shelters in neighboring communities in an attempt to find a facility that offered an extended stay while I healed. Finally after an exhaustive search I took a cab to the Volunteers Of America in Lansing, with nothing but a duffel bag and crutches.
Upon arrival I was greeted by a matter of fact receptionist who introduced me to one of more than 30 bunk beds. One of which was assigned to me. I was number 26 in the men’s dorm. I had always taken privacy for granted until then. The only private place was in the bathroom stall and even there, several of the stall doors didn’t lock. Being smaller in stature, I certainly didn’t take showers there without the privacy of a curtain. Growing up seeing many movies about bad things happening in that kind of environment kept me from letting myself become at all vulnerable.
I pushed myself to walk until I eventually was off of crutches. After checking in at four o’clock, I would often walk down to the River Front and feed the ducks bread that was given to us at meal time. Such an experience forced me to survival mode. I kept to myself as much as possible while listening to my portable C.D. player. I had to be back at the dorm at about eight o’clock.
We would all be awakened at six in the morning, served breakfast and then ushered out at seven. This continued for about two months. My small town manners reemerged and I found myself being friendly to the staff while helping out where I could. If the floor looked dirty I would offer to sweep, if the windows looked dingy I would offer to clean them. I kept my ears open for any opportunity to be productive. No matter how bad it seemed I was always optimistic because things could always be worse. I was extremely patient and finally able to set up an appointment with a housing specialist. I explained to her because I have a gentle disposition, there was no way I was going to shower there. She knew of another shelter with a more home-like atmosphere where I was comfortable showering. Eventually I was placed there. I ended up staying for about six months after breaking my ankle helping someone move. At that shelter there was also a housing specialist, who helped me get placed in an apartment.
Being homeless was a very humbling experience. I really didn’t realize how much I took for granted until then. Those events make me extremely grateful and appreciate seemingly small blessings each and every day.
