Like Rain on Parked Cars, Chapter 18 – Pawns

Black pawn, Author MichaelMaggs, (CC BY-SA 2.5 Generic)

“He who gives to the poor will not lack, But he who hides his eyes will have many curses” (Ps. 28: 27).

The summer after Aretha had her barbecue, Mayor John Street announced his Task Force on Homelessness had created a ten-year plan to end homelessness in the City of Philadelphia [1].  This garnered quite a bit of positive press.

At a City Hall news conference, the Mayor spoke of “a moral and legal obligation” to improve life for all.

The Mayor promised $10 million to fund some 600 new units of subsidized housing for homeless families, and 100 beds for homeless individuals.  When pressed, however, he acknowledged at least $9 million would come from existing programs for the homeless.

The poor are pawns in the game of politics.  Philadelphia mayors have promised to end poverty for forty years [2].  Homelessness though exists even amid the mansions on the Main Line, made famous by the film “The Philadelphia Story”.  That area alone has between 700 and 900 homeless families.

There are stately Victorian homes, in and around Philadelphia, which have been converted to illegal multiple dwellings, some one-room apartments sharing kitchens or baths common to an entire floor.

One respected group for girls, I understand, created a special series of awards because of transience.  These badges or pins can be earned at a single session, so that girls are not deprived of the sense of accomplishment, when they are not able to return a second time to the group.

The muckraking journalist, Lincoln Steffens, in the early 1900s branded Philadelphia a city “corrupt and contented”.  Even to this, however, there must be some limit.

Homeless

Aretha, herself, became truly homeless for the first time in 2005.  Until then, there was at least a relative with whom she could stay.  But she was out of options…and endurance.

The problem of homelessness was so endemic in Philadelphia by 2005 that I was routinely handing out flyers on the limited number of shelters and food kitchens to the homeless men and women I encountered on the street.

Because of a break in her employment, Aretha had fallen several months behind in rent.  She promised to pay the landlord a few dollars extra each month, when re-employed, to make up the deficiency.

Unfortunately, Aretha failed to get the landlord’s agreement to this amendment of her lease in writing.  Once she had a paycheck coming in again, Aretha kept her promise.  However, the landlord proceeded to court, and obtained an eviction for non-payment of rent, on the basis of the arrears.

I learned of this only after the fact.  Aretha was by then bouncing from one relative to another.  Apart from the clothes on her back, she had been able to take from the apartment only a second pair of slacks, and a few items of clothing for Jonathan.  Still trying to hold down her job, Aretha washed out her blouse and underwear in the sink nightly.

The rest of Aretha’s clothing (and Jonathan’s), the food in her cupboards, her books, furniture, and appliances, the desktop computer she had been given but had yet to install, and Jonathan’s toys were all under lock and key at the apartment.

Aretha would be allowed back in only once, by pre-arrangement with the landlord, to remove them.  With the clock ticking, she had yet to find affordable movers.

Sitting in my apartment, exhausted, Aretha finally filled me in.

“I don’ have any place to go.”

“What about your Mom?”

“I can’ stay theah.”

“She must understand the situation.”

“It’s so hard fo’ me theah.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Stayin’ at work.  Stayin’ at my aunt’s.”

“Do they know this happened?”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you should tell them, honey.  This is an emergency.  You need time to sort things out, and find another place to live.”

“I don’ wanna lose the job.”

“How much rent is the landlord saying was overdue?”

“I don’ really know.”

“Would it help if I talked to the landlord?  I could let you have some money.  Maybe he would let you move back in.”

“No.  Theah’s no chance.”

“Let’s try and think.  Do you want to stay here with me for awhile?”

“Tha’ would be nice.  I don’ know…I don’ know.”

“It would let you save up a little, maybe give you a quiet place to think.”

“I don’ know.  Theah’s my cousin.”

“Your cousin?”

“She got evicted.  She was livin’ with me befo’ all this happened.”

“Honey, I don’t think you’re in a position to help her right now.”

“I was thinkin’ maybe we could get an apartmen’ together.  We could share the rent.  She wants us to get a house.”

“How did she lose her apartment?”

“She had savin’s, but her boyfriend got arrested.  She had to bail him out.”

“What was the boyfriend arrested for?”

“I don’ know.”

“Do you want someone like that around Jonathan?  He’s bound to come by.  How are you going to stop your cousin from letting him stay over?  What about his friends?”

“I don’ know.”

“It might help for you to move closer to school.  But you’d have to change jobs then.  Would you be willing to take a sales job?”

“I like what I do with patients.  I really like it.”

“Okay.  We could check whether there are any jobs for psychiatric aides.  The big thing you need to figure out is whether you make enough to cover your rent and other expenses.”

Blank stare.

“Can Jonathan’s father help?” I asked.

“He’s doin’ what he can.”

“Look, honey.  You’re dead on your feet.  Go lie down, and get some sleep.  We can talk later.  We’ll think of something.”

A few hundred dollars would not solve the problem.  If Aretha’s paycheck would not cover the rent, she would only end up in this situation again.  I felt helpless.

We decided Aretha would try and get a few days off, come and stay with me for that long.  We would both think seriously about whether sharing an apartment more permanently was feasible.

Meanwhile, Aretha needed to go back to Philadelphia to arrange for her things to be moved.  She would call the next day.

I did not hear from Aretha the next day or the day after.  I tried calling, but could not get through.  Either her phone had run out of minutes, or her message box was full.  This had often happened before.  It was not uncommon for Aretha (or many of the poor I met) to change phone numbers frequently, with gaps in service during the interim.

I chewed my nails, and prayed.  Aretha was slated to see a house, before she came back to my place.  I hoped she would make the right decision, whatever that was for her.

Aretha called about ten days later.  She was going to stay in Philadelphia, and move back in with her mother, after all.  The house she had thought of renting with her cousin turned out to be dilapidated, not worth her time.  Thankfully, she had managed to get her things from the old apartment, after being stood up by her movers the first time around.

Aretha’s decision had been made.  She would allow Jonathan to attend a well-thought of pre-school, near her mother’s apartment.  He had been on a waiting list.  The call had only just come through.

Aretha’s plan was – at least for the moment – to stay in Philadelphia for the duration of her son’s pre-school program.  She would wait and move with him to the suburbs then.

—

[1]  Project Home, “Philadelphia’s Ten-Year Plan to End Homelessness:  Creating Homes, Strengthening Communities, and Improving Systems – Final Draft”, Spring 2005, https://www.projecthome.org/sites/default/files/2020-05/Philadelphia%2527s%252010-year%2520Plan%2520to%2520End%2520Homelessness.pdf.

[2]  Philadelphia Magazine, “For 40 Years, Philly Mayors have Promised to End Poverty.  For 40 Years, I’ve Watched Them Fail.” Lynette Tolbert Hazelton, 9/5/20, https://www.phillymag.com/news/2020/09/05/philadelphia-poverty-history-mayors/.

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