Affordable Housing?

This past week I went to Boulder City Council Meeting. Of most interest for me was an appeal that was filed against a variance that the city planning committee had granted. It allowed a local developer to put in a town home project in our city.

One of the key points made by all the council members who voted for the variance to be upheld was the idea of affordable housing.  The concept of a starter home/affordable home is not a bad one but I think we need to be careful how far we take the idea of "affordable housing". This is the point I make this week in my opinion piece. I hope you will read it.

I also just wanted to say how happy I was at the city council meeting. Not because of the outcome necessarily but because of the process. I was glad the people had a way to appeal a decision made by the committee. I was glad to see council members really ask some good questions and try to get good resolution. I was glad to see people be able to speak their mind. I was glad to see reasonable minds be able to speak to both sides of the issue. I was glad to see council members disagree and not be disagreeable. I was glad to see citizens disagree and not be disagreeable.  Overall it was a great process for a great city.

I am grateful for those who are passionate on both sides of this issue. I am grateful for a man willing to develop and try to make this city better. I am grateful for citizens who speak up when they think the development is not being done reasonably. I am grateful for city council members who are willing to weigh the issues and try to make well thought out votes.

My only fear is that this passion for city politics will turn to anger against one another. We should never let that happen. Boulder City is better than that.

Serpentine Stone

Thousands of years ago, a powerful wizard created a serpentine stone. The stone served various masters, being passed down from Father to Son. It was a manifest stone with the particular power to grant whatever the owner truly desired as long as he kept the stone in his possession. The serpentine stone, itself, was not a ruby or sapphire, but a rather common looking stone. It was slightly smaller than a quail egg, but similar in shape and  was of reddish, brown hue. Because of its power, it was only given to those who had proven themselves. A very wise master, realizing his inability to control his desires, stood at the edge of the woods and hurled the rock deep into the forest, knowing he would never be able to find it.

There it sat in the woods among the earth and decaying branches for over 200 years when a gathering of woods people took place. Among these woods people was a man known for his spirituality, a Shaman. Sensing the connections of all things was second nature to him both among those things that modern science calls living and those things they do not. While the stone to you and I would have been impossible to notice to him its inward powers shown like a great flame sitting on the forest floor. Not only was the stone easily found by this man of great discernment but he also recognized instantly what powers the stone had. Adding it to his pouch, he knew that his next job was to find the stones next master and that he must choose wisely for the stone's power could bring great good or great calamity to the earth.

While at the gathering, he met Carlos. Carlos was not always wise but he was sincere. Several times he had determined to give Carlos the stone, only to see the foolhardy youth error, causing him to retract his decision. But no matter how many times he determined his choice would be someone else, Carlos kept coming to mind. At the last day of the gathering he met with Carlos. The stone was given but so was a charge that he not take this responsibility lightly, for to have all your true desires met puts great responsibility on the owner. They must learn to control and decide wisely what their true desires would be. For the stone would help you get your desires but it would not be without repercussions. Bad desires would be achieved with at times, dire consequences. Carlos was determined to be deserving of this charge.

Carlos soon found that the stone was exactly as advertised. At first, he was very careful to control his desires and keep them in check. He could not control regular whims but with effort he could keep unwise thoughts or directions from becoming true desires. However, over time he found it easier and easier to allow unwise and foolhardy enterprises to become his desire. In these he found victory but the more unwise the pursuit the more sorrow he left in his wake. It was only when a particular victory almost led to the loss of that which he loved most that he realized he had failed his charge, he was undeserving of the stone. Wisely he began to seek out the wise man who had first given him the stone.

Friends told him that the Shaman would once again be at another wood gathering at the exact location where the stone had first been given to Carlos. The gathering was much larger than it had been in years past. The main fire was set in the middle of the various camps. Word of Carlos arrival spread quickly, as the years had made him a powerful man. Most of the camp was gathered as he came to main fire where the Shaman, the same man who had found the stone stood counseling various leaders.

The camp fell quite as Carlos approached.

“I know why you are here.” The Shaman said.

Carlos held the stone out in his hand. He was determined to return the stone but now that the moment had come, he was torn. How could he voluntarily give up such immense power? For years, would he look back on this moment with regret? Yet, he knew he could not handle the power any longer, that it would be unwise not to give the stone back.

The group stood in silence and the pause became uncomfortable. The Shaman calmly approached and said with an open palm, “It is your choice, you must give it of your own free will.”

Never had Carlos been so torn. He felt his desire for the stone and his desire to be rid of the stone both as overpowering. As silence prevailed suddenly a loud crack filled the camp. The small stone was now two stones in the hand of Carlos. The light the stone once emanated, that had been so clear to the Shaman, was now gone. The stone, charged with granting the desire of its owner was pulled so intensely in two directions that it split loosing it’s power forever.

This story was told to me by Carlos (a homeless man who I will write about later). Many of you may assume it is fictional but I can say with much confidence that while it may be a fictional tail, it was very real to Carlos. He regularly attends gathering of rainbow people in the woods and told me this story while holding half of a small stone, what he claimed was the serpentine stone. He had pulled it out of a small pouch, the kind of pouch you would expect a woodsman to keep his coins in. It was filled with small stones, Knick knacks, and jewels. He also pulled out a quartz crystal, something else he said was known to have powers and gave it to me. This small pouch held a majority of Carlos’s worldly possessions and I was honored he shared some with me.

I was also honored to have the story shared with me. I am not sure what aspects of the story are true but there is much we could all learn from it. For one, I believe in the serpentine stone not as the holder of the power but as a very effective icon to bring out something that we all already have. Psalms 37:4 “Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.” The older I get the more I believe, in as much as our desires are in line with natural law, God grants them to us. Like Carlos the responsibility to control and be intentional with our desires is important. For even poor desires can be granted but not without consequences. The greatest reason we may still fail to gain our desires are: They do not align with natural law such as finding happiness in sin, or we can’t truly decide what our desires are. Like Carlos in the story we are torn. We can’t decide what our goals are or what we truly want. Under such circumstances, God like the serpentine stone cannot grant us our desires. However, if you are united internally, in heart and mind you will reach your desires, whether or not you have a serpentine stone in your pocket, so choose wisely.

Eye Contact

To be honest in the past I have often avoided homeless people. I didn't know what to say or do. Not only that, there was the awkward moment when they would ask for money. There was a real part of me that wondered if money wouldn't hurt them more than help them, so what did I do? I walked to the other side of the street, made sure my window was up when I came to their corner but mostly just avoided eye contact.

Ventura California is a beautiful town with amazing parks, beaches and piers.

Me in a tree, at a height my wife was mad about, in a park in Ventura

The main pier is really the heart of the town. At its base stands a taco shop that is never in short supply of fish tacos or customers. Along its sides, anglers can be seen talking, sharing a drink or slicing fish guts. This attracts sea gulls and pelicans that soar just above those walking and around the pier hoping to get the innards of the most recent catch. Joggers and bikers are out improving their shape by passing over the aged planks. And between all this is hundreds of tourists trying to take it all in. Get on the pier for 30 seconds and you see why it attracts so many. The view is spectacular and the pier extends out enough that looking outward you feel as if you're miles at sea with nothing but its expanse in view. Turn to the side and you see the endless extent of shoreline with waves crashing on the beaches.

View from the main pier in Ventura

There is one group of people I failed to note; they are also fellow passengers on this pier—the homeless. You might call them unnoticed, but there is an active participant in this passive description. The opposite side of the pier from them is always a little more busy, and a hard-to-find bench seat is always wide open when shared by one such occupant. City police are anxious to ensure these vagrants do not become a deterrent to the cities most iconic feature and, therefore, allow no panhandling or sleeping. Even loitering for too long will have them asking you move along, that is, if you are loitering and you look homeless.

It was dusk, and the crowds had begun to thin. I noticed an older man sitting on one of the benches. His bike with a small trailer sat next to him. It was filled with half broken fishing poles, nets, old magazines and some card board signs used for begging.

He was talking on an old style flip phone. I sat next to him as the last light of day began to flee. Once he got off the phone, I began to talk with him.

Raymond was 63. He was born and raised in Ventura and had spent most of his life there. Throughout most of his adulthood, he had been a construction laborer working odds and ends jobs: painting, carpenter work or pouring concrete.

"How long have you been on the streets?" I ask.

"Two years."

"Were you ever homeless before that?"

"No."

"How did it happen?"

"Got in a fight with a roommate and got thrown out. I had a job at the time and thought I'd be out for a few weeks while I saved rent, but then I lost my job. At first I started panhandling and could get enough for a hotel and food most nights but not very often anymore."

"Why the decrease?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe people get used to seeing me and don't feel like helping the same guy over and over."

"Who were you talking to?"

"My wife, Delphina, it's her 60th birthday today."

"Your wife! Where is she?" I will admit my question probably showed too much surprise. It seemed odd he'd be speaking to his wife on a cell phone while homeless. Looking back, it may not have been that strange, but it took me off guard.

"She lives in town. She's a care taker for an older woman. The job gives her a room to live in. I go and visit her most days. I will try to visit her later tonight." Much like the homeless, working widow I met in Arizona, this challenged my view of who homeless people are. I just never would have pictured a 60 year old couple, one working as a care taker and the other roaming the streets, when I thought of the homeless.

"Any kids?"

"I have a daughter from my first wife. Well technically...," he paused, "we never married."

He goes onto explain that he met, fell in love with and moved in with Ruby, a woman with a 9 year old son.  He raised the boy and they had a daughter together as well. He was with Ruby until she died in 2001 of a stroke. A year later, the boy died. They are buried together in a cemetery he often visits. The daughter he had with Ruby lives in Fresno with her 3 kids, his grand kids, ages 10, 8 and 6, but he has not seen her or the kids in 3 years, which he says is because she hates his new wife, Delphina, and refuses to see him until he drops her.

"What do you plan to get Delphina for her Birthday?"

"I planned to get her a mother's ring. See she has 7 children from before she married me and she wants a ring that has each of their birthstones. She asked her kids to get it for her but they wont. I put some money down on it but don't have it paid off yet. I'll will just tell her about it for her birthday."

I ask him about where he sleeps and it sounds like wherever he can. Police must be fairly aggressive in Ventura when it comes to vagrancy because he says they often wake him up and tell him to move on and often give him a ticket as well. He always asks them where he should move on to and to go ahead a write the ticket because it won't do any good.

When asked how he plans to get off the streets he mentions 2 options:

A few years ago he visited his sister in Vegas. While there he went to a party and a guy who runs an HVAC shop offered him a job. As he told me about it, he pulled out a well worn business card of an HVAC mechanic from Vegas. "I could get to Vegas and take him up on his offer."

"Another option is Social Security," he continued. "I was in the social security office today and, being 63, am eligible for my benefits, but only $600 a month. In Ventura that won't even pay for rent. But, if I wait until 66, I'll get $1,200."

What a dilemma. Get $600 a month now, an amount he sees as small enough that he may be better off waiting on the streets with nothing until he can get $1,200 and be able to afford rent. The fact that a homeless man even considered waiting made me rethink some of my perceptions. I thought of that famous experiment which tested if little children could wait to eat a marshmallow if they were offered a a second marshmallow for waiting. Could you take the two marshmallows later if it meant living in the cold for 3 years while you waited?

We discussed a few other things, I got a picture (although with almost zero light left it wasn't very good), and I left.

Raymond and Myself on the pier in Ventura

I did give him a small sum of money, but what struck me was he seemed far more appreciative of the conversation than the money. I am certain that if no money had exchanged hands, both he and I would have been glad to have met. What did he appreciate? I think that it was simply being treated like a human, a child of God.

People often rise or fall to the level that others treat them. We often call this rising to the expectations. When others have faith in us and trust in our ability to succeed, it helps us believe in ourselves. Often, it takes others to think we can before we ourselves, like the little engine that could, can say we actually think we can. Hence why athletes praise the coach that believed in them. But just as positive feedback can create a loop of thought that leads to success,  negative feedback can have the opposite effect.

What message do we send? What feedback do we create when we cross the street to avoid someone? What message does it send when, to avoid speaking with someone, we won't even make eye contact? What collective message would you receive when person after person pretends to be looking the other direction so they don't have to look at you?

Yes, maybe money won't always help, so don't give them money when you don't feel you should. So, what can you do? Treat them as Christ would. Love them. Believe in their ability to become something better. Look at them with a smile that lets them know you care.

I believe Raymond appreciated the conversation because it was rare for a stranger to treat him like they cared, to treat him like he was worth the time and believed in him. I wondered when the last time was a stranger treated him this way. I have no proof of this, but my guess is it was several years ago in Las Vegas by an HVAC mechanic. I don't think he holds onto that old card because he really believes that job is still there; rather, it is a symbol of someone who cares, someone who believes in Raymond. I hope I will be better at treating others such that, even if they don't keep my card for years in their wallet, they keep the name of him whom I strive to represent in their hearts.

What's in a title

Turn off the TV, put up lights
That is the title of the latest article in the Boulder City Review (http://bouldercityreview.com/opinion/turn-tv-put-lights).

One of the things I always assumed was that they guy they hired to write the article would also write the title. That is not the case. I realized this from the first article I wrote Woodbury made lasting impression: Beltway bears name of man who championed transportation issues. This may surprise you given what a beautiful title it was, but as wonderful as it was it was not mine. I of course did not mind this after all they only paid me to write articles, not titles.  But I wish they would have warned me about my most recent article (see above). The problem with this article is that people in Boulder City know where I live and I have zero Christmas lights up. While I felt like my lack of Christmas spirit did not conflict with my article as a whole it clearly is not in line with the message of its title.

Despite how hypocritical it's title made me look I still hope you enjoy it.

Where will you be in five years?

A question we all should ask ourselves from time to time is, where will I be in 5 years?

This is a question I asked Drew and his answer has bothered me ever since.

Drew had grown up in the suburbs of Salt Lake City. He graduated high school from Bingham high, but long before he graduated he had many life lessons and challenges outside the classroom. At 14 his mother lost custody of him and his older and younger sister. His uncle had volunteered to take the children and for two years Drew lived there. However, not uncommon to 16 year olds, he found himself arguing with his uncle and ultimately in and out of foster care. If you enter "the system" of state foster care at age 9 your chances of being adopted are very low with less than 30% of adoptions being age 9 and older but by age 16 your chances are  more like, statistically impossible. Drew became no different than most kids and found himself bouncing from foster home to foster home. It was here that Drew first got comfortable on the streets often spending days on the streets between homes or "living with friends." Given his lack of consistency in his life, his accomplishment of receiving a diploma is very impressive.

At age 18 he found himself not only a graduate of high school but also of the foster care system. Society as a whole may be extending the time that our children can stay just that, children, with kids on our health care until age 26 and in our basements even longer. Foster care on the other hand has no such extension. There is however a youth shelter that goes from age 18 to 22. This is to help those who have aged out of foster care or their parent’s basement, a time to transition to "real life". Unfortunately it too often becomes a way for them to transition from school to the streets.

Drew appeared at first to beat the odds. By 22 he had found a decent job at Wingers as a busboy and waiter. He could afford his own room. Drew looked like he was on a path to a relatively, if not successful at least, normal life. He was tall and slender, clean cut with his only notable defect being a badly chipped front tooth. Naturally outgoing, a friend recommended that he quit his job at the restaurant and go into sales. The particular job was selling solar panel systems door to door. Drew didn't particularly care for sales but he had just gotten a new boss at Wingers. The boss was an ex-marine, whose authoritative leadership had taken all the fun out of work. Cautiously Drew decided to try sales on his day off. This proved to be a fateful decision because on his first day he made 3 sales. The commission from 3 sales a day was far more salary then Wingers provided. The next day he went into wingers and quite his job. Those were the last 3 sales he made. After days of selling with no success he found himself again on the streets.

"I still work from time to time. I have a friend who installs insulation and he hires me a few days a week to help. On the days I'm not installing insulation I do this." The “this” he refers to is what I found him doing, standing on a corner with a sign. He took panhandling seriously.

My first question to him was, "Are you hungry?"

I believe he assumed I had food to offer and said, "Yea, kind of."

"Want to come with me to lunch?" I asked.

"Thanks man, but I can't afford to lose this spot." I-80 and State Street must be prime real estate because he continued, "If I go with you someone else will take this spot, and at this time of day good spots are hard to come by."

"What's your goal? Are you just trying to get enough to eat?"

"I try to get enough for a cheap room."

"What if you don't get enough?"

"There's a shelter and if they're full there's a church downtown that lets us sleep on the pews."

When asked why he is homeless his answer is honest and humble, "Bad decisions. I've made really bad financial and other decisions that have led me here."

"Where do you see yourself in five years?"

"I hope the military. I got a 28 on my ASVAB but need a 31 to get in. I really need help in math since that is my worst score. I hope to take it again soon."

We chatted a bit more and I walked home. Of all the people I have interviewed Drew has bothered me the most. Why? Helping people with math is something I both enjoy doing and am very capable of. I have enjoyed helping youth in math for years and yet could there be a youth whose need was more and my potential impact greater? With a few days help I could possibly help him bump up his score, and he might be able to get off the streets. Instead of burdening our country he'd be serving it. But I was only in town for 1 more day and wasn't in a position to invite him into a home I myself was a guest in.

This was months ago and I still often think of Drew. Did he get the help he needed? Did someone do better than I and sacrifice for his future? Should I have taken a few days off work and tried to change his life? Would that have even helped? What if that was me who had been abandoned by my mother at 14? What if it was me, who tried to get the test score I needed but failed? Who would I turn to?

I am exceptionally grateful that I have been blessed with so many loving, self-sacrificing friends and family who would and do help in moments of crisis. Even when those moments are not so momentary. My prayer now is Drew finds such a friend and that in the future I may be such a friend to those who have not been so blessed.

Total Freedom

His mother must have foreseen this image of him when she named him. No one I had ever met had a name more perfectly suited to his appearance than Dusty sitting behind the gas station with a sign asking for food. Yuma, Arizona has a tendency to make us all a little that way. That is until we are able to get inside and clean up: something my friend clearly had not had occasion to do in some time.

His hair was unkempt and matched his half-grown beard. A bare chest look red and weathered, covered only lightly by a loose, military green, sleeveless vest fraying on the edges. A small beagle lay by his side and, in his hand, a sign that read, “Hungry, Anything Helps. God Bless.”

I was on my way to dinner and asked if he’d join me. We walked together and when we came to the front door he told his dog to stay and that he’d be back. He obediently lay down by the front door. “I can take him in because he’s a service animal but I don’t want to make trouble,” he said to me.

Small talk continues while we order and sit down. Dusty grew up in Georgia and, at the age of 16, was kicked out of his home and has been a “traveler” ever since. Once seated, it is clear that his sign was not in error: he was hungry.

“Do you enjoy life as a traveler?” I ask.

“You bet! It’s great! Go where you want, when you want. No one to boss you around. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” He says with confidence and pride.

Most recently his adventures have taken him to slab city. Slab city is mostly made up of snowbirds who park RV’s around the area. It gets its name from the concrete slabs that were left over from an abandoned WWII marine corps barracks of Camp Dunlap. “Travelers” make up a significant portion of the local population, but there are a few people who stay year around. Quite a feat given the summer temperatures reach over 120 degrees and there are no utilities. Many people who come to slab city want to be “off grid” in every aspect of their lives.

I am quick to assume that slab city is just the kind of place where Dusty would feel at home so am surprised when he says, “I didn’t really care for it. That place is total tweekerville.” My face must have shown my ignorance because he quickly explained, tweekerville, you know, everyone is on drugs. It’s just not my scene.”

Having little to say regarding tweekerville, I attempt to lighten the conversation by saying, “Well at least you didn’t have to come too far.” I have been by slab city several times and always considered it fairly close to Yuma. Now it was his turn to look shocked.

“It took me three days to get here!” It was clear my definition of what made something close or far had not taken into account the mode of transportation.

“So you mostly walk?”

“That and hitch rides. I used to have a car but that got impounded. I got the car when I was in Texas. A guy said he’d give it to me if I did $600 worth of work. But he let me have it early after only doing $300 so I took off. I got picked up in Flagstaff for improper right turn, but they added on, ‘driving without a license, insurance or registration.’”

This led to a 7 day stay in jail, and, by the way he said it, you could tell 7 days was a long stay for him.  “They said I could get the car out of impound for $600 but that is what I paid for it, so I said, ‘no way,’ and hitched a ride out of there.

“In what other towns have you been to jail?” I questioned.

“It would be faster to tell you what towns I haven’t been to jail in. They always take me to jail for stupid things like vagrancy, pan handling or public drunkenness.”

I notice, as he eats, he sets aside small pieces of meat for his dog.

“How long have you had your dog?” I ask.

“He was given to me last Halloween. He’s a great companion.”

Dusty finishes his meal and we head out of the building. Once outside I see the perfectly loyal companion sitting by the door. Dusty gives him his saved bits of meat.

I wished I had asked what happens to the dog while he is in jail. My guess is it waits outside or nearby for the few days it takes for his master to “pay his debt to society,” and happily joins him once freed.

I always learn a lot from the those I interview but the lessons I want to share, I learned, not from Dusty, but from his dog.

    

      1. Judging: To him his master is the greatest man alive. He doesn’t see him the way the world sees him. Rather he sees him as loving and giving. He sees the good. While many dogs seem to have this natural gift, I wonder if we could choose to cultivate it in ourselves.

2. Loyalty. The dog’s loyalty was incredible to me, especially when contrasted to his owner. Whereas Dusty would, “take off” or “go where he wanted, when he wanted.” His dog would faithfully wait, only move when told, and go wherever his master told him to go.

 As positive as Dusty spoke of his “total freedom” lifestyle, I can’t help but wonder if the dog’s loyalty and servitude was a more fulfilling experience.

Boulder Highlands Fact Check

I'm never shy about sharing my opinion, so am pleased to share my first opinion piece in the Boulder City Review.

http://bouldercityreview.com/opinion/thoughtful-approach-growth-best-way-go
Let me know what you think. And if your in Boulder City post your thoughts about our growth ordinance.