Friends of the Homeless direct service

In line with many other Americans (http://www.911dayofservice.org/) this week, the VISTA's from Ohio Association of Second Harvest Foodbanks took a day off from our regular work yesterday and did a day of direct service in honor of September 11th.   I think it's fantastic that the silver lining of that fateful day has turned into an annual effort of community service.  Solidarity to build our community is such a powerful response to an act that was probably meant to tear us apart and riddle us with fear.

Friends of the Homeless is the name of the shelter organization that my group worked in.  I was in the men's shelter component, another group worked at Rebecca's place which serves as the women's shelter.  They also have transitional housing and supportive permanent housing available.  See here for more information.  Considering the Benefit Bank has most other needs covered (food, medical, school) it was a great chance for me to play a part in housing residents of Columbus.

The cold weather is right around the corner, so the shelters are gearing up for the overflow of residents in the winter months.  It was a pretty smelly, dirty place as soon as we walked in, so our main job to to clean the best we could for a fresh start.  The living quarters are open floor spaces with single beds and bunks, with lockers up against the wall, and dorm style bathrooms.  We tackled the bathrooms and the floors/walls of the sleeping quarters.

Gloves on, masks on, sponge in hand.  Buckets of bleach, pine sol, and comet.  I have no idea how walls can get so dirty.  This is one of those situations where you cannot think about what you're doing, you just have to dig in and do it.  Like cleaning unidentifiable splashes of substances off the well.  Well, one of the workers pointed out that "You can probably identify what's on there...you just don't want to."  Well said.

It's always a humbling experience to do this type of extreme service work.  It's gross, it's involved, but it's also short term.  At the end of the day I get to leave and return to my apartment.  At the end of the same day, the residents will come back to a room that smells overwhelmingly of cleaning supplies, but is still very obviously dirtied with years of street grit and stained with stories of men who have lost their footing in life.