Ted is a big man,
muscular, with callous and cracked hands, making the tears in his
eyes incongruous.
Backstory: Students from St. Anselm College come to the Center and offer to listen to the homeless tell their story. The program is a way for the students to learn about homelessness from the “textbook” of real people. It also provides a rare and valuable opportunity for the homeless to narrate their life story to attentive, non-judging young people. It works. The stories flow as the students listen and learn. Homeless guests who think they might spend five or ten minutes with the students sometimes spend an hour or more.
A while ago I asked Ted if he would give the students a lesson about life on the streets, telling them what it’s like to live and survive on the streets of the city. “You know things they need to hear,” I said.
He agreed readily and went into the room where the two students waited. After just three minutes Ted came out, masking his face. Concerned that a problem had developed, I asked him if he was alright. That’s when I saw the tears.
“Whew,” he said, trying to gather himself. “I didn’t count on that. Once I started talking, you know, talking about my life, all sorts of things came back, and all that old pain was there again, you know?”
“Hey, Ted, you don’t have to say anything. I can tell the students…”
“No! No! I want to. Just give me a minute.”
He went into the men’s room and after a few minutes came out with a freshly washed and determined face.
“You OK?” I asked.
“Yeah. Fine,” he said. “You know, once I started talking I realized that it’s been a lot of years – I mean a lot of years – since anyone listened to me, just listened, without some smartass thing to say, or giving me grief. It got to me, you know. But I’m OK. Wow, this is amazing.”
He walked back to the students and stayed for an hour.
Later one of the students said to me, “That was amazing. He was so real. I felt like he held nothing back.”
Ted seized an opportunity which is far too rare for the homeless, or for anyone.
Backstory: Students from St. Anselm College come to the Center and offer to listen to the homeless tell their story. The program is a way for the students to learn about homelessness from the “textbook” of real people. It also provides a rare and valuable opportunity for the homeless to narrate their life story to attentive, non-judging young people. It works. The stories flow as the students listen and learn. Homeless guests who think they might spend five or ten minutes with the students sometimes spend an hour or more.
A while ago I asked Ted if he would give the students a lesson about life on the streets, telling them what it’s like to live and survive on the streets of the city. “You know things they need to hear,” I said.
He agreed readily and went into the room where the two students waited. After just three minutes Ted came out, masking his face. Concerned that a problem had developed, I asked him if he was alright. That’s when I saw the tears.
“Whew,” he said, trying to gather himself. “I didn’t count on that. Once I started talking, you know, talking about my life, all sorts of things came back, and all that old pain was there again, you know?”
“Hey, Ted, you don’t have to say anything. I can tell the students…”
“No! No! I want to. Just give me a minute.”
He went into the men’s room and after a few minutes came out with a freshly washed and determined face.
“You OK?” I asked.
“Yeah. Fine,” he said. “You know, once I started talking I realized that it’s been a lot of years – I mean a lot of years – since anyone listened to me, just listened, without some smartass thing to say, or giving me grief. It got to me, you know. But I’m OK. Wow, this is amazing.”
He walked back to the students and stayed for an hour.
Later one of the students said to me, “That was amazing. He was so real. I felt like he held nothing back.”
Ted seized an opportunity which is far too rare for the homeless, or for anyone.
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