The Winds : The Times : The Pace : Nickles, Dimes and Pennies

Change.

Paul never took a shower because he never got another change of clothes. I have not seen him for months.

Gary still smokes crack, but has learned not to overdose on our property (lest he be suspended from our services again).

I am sure Rita's child has been born, and I pray that they are safe. May 12th was the last time I saw her... but not the last time I thought about her.

Rob doesn't pay child support for his son anymore, which has caused his greif to switch from his debt to his son's death.

BobbyJoel's police report successfully secured him a spot in the subsidized apartments he applied to. I hear a rumor that he has a really cool toaster oven that can cook frozen pizzas.

Jarrone and Christina are still together in a "agree to disagree" sort of way, but neither of them have their State ID's anymore.

Gerald came back to my office this week with another gift: a daffodil he uprooted from a nearby highway median. He handed it to me with a shaking hand and said "I'm sorry." Sorry because after almost 2 years of sobriety, he was drunk.

Paulie still drinks as much as he pleases, but has stopped looking for work and stopped pretending to go to school. Never stops smiling.

In this neighborhood, things change, and then sometimes, they change back. But they're always moving, and three years of employment in one place shows you much more than a month, or a year. I've seen the full run of a relationships, what happens after a stint in jail (and what doesn't), sobriety and relapse, and if I've learned anything, it's that change is a constant state, not a single event, but this doesn't mean that it doesn't count, or it's not effective. It's like the turn of a screw--you may look like you're at the same point as you were a year ago, but you're just a little bit deeper; a little bit closer to your destination.
Relapse is part of recovery; sometimes you have to step backward to maintain your balance.

Change.

I Love Paulie, His Staples, His Racoon Eyes

Paulie got so drunk last week, he blacked out in his apartment and had to get staples in his head. He also evidently fell asleep in the sun with his sunglasses on, because when he came to talk to me, his face was impressively tan with the exception of white circles around his eyes.

"It's not all fun and games anymore, Anna. This is for real now, I guess."

Most people wouldn't describe a life of homelessness as "fun and games" at any point, especially not at the beginning. But Paulie is 19, and spent the first year after being kicked out of his parent's house in Holland volunteering to take out the trash at Tini Bikini's so he could hang out with some of the girls. That was fun.

Then he got bored, so he got a job. He got a job by smiling. He's cute.
He worked at the Bistro and got to eat the "best food ever. All the time. You would like it." That was fun.

Then he decided to go back to school, so he applied and recieved a Pell grant. He registered for four classes at Community College, dropped three, and barely attended one. Not as fun.

Then he got sick of sleeping by other dudes--older dudes who weren't as good at gelling their hair as he was. So he applied for an apartment at Verne Barry Place, subsidized government housing reserved for those with physical and mental disabilities. Paulie turned in his ADD diagnosis, and got a nice, newly furnished, studio apartment for free. The girls from Tini Bikini's weren't allowed to come up and visit, though, so he got bored.

So he started drinking again (he never stopped drinking, but at least he got distracted during the daytime). There's a rule downtown that any sort of voucher (bus tickets, Degage Dollars, food stamps) were worth half their price in cash. Instead of $150 in shrimp and potato chips (Paulie's favorite foodstamp expenditures), he could get at least $70 in alcohol. Sounds like fun.

But last week, sporting staples in his head, Paulie smiles less. Time to do something about it, he guesses. Time to look into detox, rehab, maybe a more supportive group of friends.

But this week, he forgot the fear he felt when he woke up on the floor of his apartment, his head bleeding. This week, he's back to his MP3 player, asking me to look up the dates of the concerts at Van Andel.

This week, I hope that the love I show Paulie (I love Paulie) is not as helpless as it feels.