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    D.K. Daniels
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
 

I have written many adventure, drama and romance books with LGBTQI+ characters. Visit my website to browse my full bibliography. You can also sign up for my mailing list to ensure you don't miss any fun future updates. Be sure to subscribe, I give away free stuff, limited printed editions of my novels and more. 

   

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The Gift (Revised) - 1. The Gift (Revised)

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The Gift

D.K. Daniels

 

A young boy stood under the cover of a concrete canopy for shelter, with his feet burning raw, to the point his toes felt like rubber. Long periods of walking will do that to you. The fresh arctic sheet of snow and slush had soaked its way through the thin canvas of his shoes. The only sign of life along the deserted street came from a pair of tracks made from the kid through the snow. All that remained now was whether Max had any feeling left in his little legs. The boy could sense it, his limbs beginning to fail him. Never before has it been so cold that Max wished he could curl up and expire. Even huddling into your knees on the sidewalk on top of a spread cardboard box to die seemed fraught. Two days prior, Max recalled watching a news broadcast in a homeless shelter he'd frequent at the heart of St Clement. How the cold front was supposed to break, but unfortunately it didn't.

Except, for tonight, the child did not have the energy to make it much further. Even if the boy did, he certainly did not possess the money for a warm welcome and full belly. Max knew Reggie would not turn him away in a bitter storm. Yet, rightly so, Reggie has a couple of hundred people to take care of. Max met Reggie when the man was out canvassing for donations to support the local soup kitchen. The thirty-something or other offered him some insightful advice and that evening, Max checked himself into a shelter where the kid was fed; given a clean set of clothes, and Max's personal favourite… a hot shower.

The accumulation evolved multiple times over. It turned from snowflake to slush within twenty-four-hours and back to a small untouched heap of snowdrift. Above, the bleak December sky blanketed the city with an icy blackness, in the lightyears away, dead stars continued to glimmer in the distance. The frigid temperature cauterized Max's tired eyes and strung a weary face. A pale reflection refracted against a darkened shape looking at some cold glass. A red knitted beanie warmed the crisp picture in the representation. Except, the child's small fingers ceased having any feeling after the walk from the subway, six blocks back.

Inside the storefront window, Max scanned over a sleepy town nestled in a valley. Each red brick building brimmed with festive cheer and an abundance of fresh fake confetti snow sprinkled the thin crust of plywood roofs. The youngster let loose a ghost from his mouth and his chest deflated. The apparition floated off to the right and wafted throughout the sleepy neighbourhood under the streetlights until the warmth succumbed to the chilly December evening. I wish I had a home to live in, a warm bed to sleep, and a family who loves me, the child would ponder deeply.

Just, what Max did not count on, is at this morning hour, a ragged old man dragged on, equally tired and humiliated. The gentleman walked on with a shopping cart in front, and pretty much in his own world. In doing so, the guy passed by Max standing at the window without batting an eye. It was not until the man progressed a building and a half away that a flash of knowledge flooded his brain, and the bum stopped in his tracks. The guy would retort to himself silently… mumbling perhaps with wet chapped lips. 'Did I just see a little boy, or is it the whiskey.'

The down-and-out parried on the spot and pivoted over his shoulder. There beneath a concrete shelter by the craft store, a young boy, roughly ten glared back at him. Red and white light illuminated the child's face; leaving the burrow of his eyes cast in deep shadow. A glassy forlorn expression bestowed the kid's features, and for the first time all evening, Joe concluded that he should talk. It's not every day the man spoke to another human, but this seemed appropriate. What if the youngster were lost, Joe affirmed. Glancing up and down the length of the road, the homeless man looked for a sign of a parent. Reverting attention to the child, Joe scanned head to toe and made an assumption based on the way the kids' clothing appeared worn with little beads of tread and grubby from lack of wash.

Sceptically Joe persisted on the spot; Max glared back until Joe worked up the courage to say anything.

"Are you on your own?" Joe asked hesitantly.

Max returned his attention to the display, hoping that the man would walk off. Instead, Joe closed the distance between the two lost souls; dragging his trolley with a clinking and clanking collection of scrap metal and no other essential clutter. The man stood along next to the younger boy and sighed. A recent thought lingered on his mind. ‘Is the boy homeless like I am?’ Joe somehow found the understanding he needed without having to ask the child why he was out all alone at this freezing hour.

Joe took a moment, thinking to himself; how do I ask if he is okay? Then Joe assumed that he'd be able to fool the kid by asking if he is having trouble at home with his parents.

"Having a rough time at home?" Joe queried.

Max peered ahead, unsure what to say about the man’s intrusion. The kid questioned why he was here in the first place. Why is the man asking me if I am having a difficult time at home? Even if I had one, I doubt I'd be out here at this time of year in the cold for the sake of it.

"No…" Max sighed.

Joe remained quiet and gazed in the window at the display and felt the calming effects of the village wash over him. For a moment, Joe wishes his life were like a dream in this window. A warm house to call his own, to start a family in. Joe looked down to the boy, who stared on forward. Deciding to cut the bullshit, Joe reflected on a time when he was a young lad. Once when things were comfortable, the man had a train set he had acquired from his parents one Christmas morning.

Joe wishes he'd had held onto the antique. Despite his run-in with the tax department some years ago. Joe sold the prized item for less than a week's worth of groceries for a family of four. Instead, the contribution to Joe's bank account did not satisfy the bankers. Yet, a few months later his house was repossessed by the bank, his mortgage was in arrears, and he owed a colossal sum to a vendor whose order of business cannot be spoken for in a legal manner.

Now Joe views his childhood nestled in a valley with a wintery wonderland surrounding it. Gosh, I miss my wife something awful. The fifty-year-old sensed a tear forming. Except, before the straggler can break free, Joe stifles the hollow emptiness by wiping the shame from an eye.

Solemnly Joe murmurs, "I used to have a train set like that."

The boy regarded Joe's statement before saying, "I've never had one before."

Max's background never amounted to much either. The kid has never remained in one foster parent's house for longer than a month; and if he did, it was because the folks who took him in were waiting for the slow upkeep from the child services to arrive. From a young age, the boy has lived out of a backpack, and the kid has gotten used to that lifestyle… living from a bag. Before Max ran away, the kid used to be a good student, achieved high grades, was affectionate, loved hugs and attention. But, now Max has closed himself off to adoration and never unpacks his belongings. The boy knows that he is not welcome in one place very long. So, as he saw it; what is the point of unhitching all his clothes; not that Max has many, but still… What is the point?

Silence fills the air between the two for a moment until Max pivoted up to Joe, "what are you doing out here all alone?” Max asked.

Gesturing with his hand, Joe indicated his clothing, "I am on my way home from a crazy party."

Max giggled knowingly. Who are you fooling, the kid retorted in a silent note to himself.

Joe peered down to the kid and smiled. It has been so long since I have talked to anyone, the man reflected deeply. Max's legs, however, gave out, and the kid fell toward the window. Extending his arms, Max plopped his palms to the windowpane and let a whimper out.

With genuine concern, Joe would ask, "are you okay?" While offering out a helping hand.

"I'm okay… it's just my legs are so cold," Max rattled, as his words gave life to the meaning.

"And where is it you're heading?” Joe asked, reaching out to support Max from falling.

"To a crazy party," Max chuckled.

Therefore, Joe gave his belly a happy dance too. The man glanced from the boy to his trolley and back to the boy. An idea formed, only just, however, he'd have to sacrifice some of his personal belongings. Everything the man owned was self-contained in that little basket.

"I know it's not the most ideal mode of transportation, but would you like me to wheel you to a shelter," Joe asked.

Max looked over at the contraption and his eyebrows arched. The kid could not afford to be prejudiced. Except, he who has nothing, offers all he has. When he who has everything, offers a pittance. The man seemed kind, and Max offered a meek grin, to where Joe offered a modest smile.

For the next couple of minutes, Joe set about emptying the cart out onto the street as the pair conversed quietly to one another.

"So, have you ever had Santa leave you a gift?” Joe enquired.

"No, maybe..."I don’t know. I can’t remember,” Max replied.

The man scanned the boy's eyes for a sign of hindrance in his sincerity; yet established that Max's version of reality was inherently the truth.

"Climb on in," Joe announced when the cart had about enough room for a small person.

Joe watched on as the young boy scaled the side of the cart and tumbled down into the bottom of the basket. Joe's heart swelled in his chest at receiving the latest information on the boy. Santa ought to be present in all kids' lives. Children need something to believe in; it may not be what he had in mind all evening, but nonetheless, Joe set off from the craft store with a child in his cart. Both conversed for some time as Joe pushed rigidly; the effects were gruelling work. The man had not expected how hard it could be to drive his pushcart through the forlorn avenues.

After some time, Max would fall asleep, completely trusting of Joe's goodwill. Gazing down at the fragile life form now nestled around his sleeping bag in the trolley, Joe took pity on the outcome. Before long, an augmentation of light in the distances neared, and Joe reached the door of a busy shelter. Many folks had taken refuge that night, but Joe would not be one of them. What little cash the man had made from begging was coughed up to support a child in need. Joe took pride in this; his gift to the child. As no child should be without a gift on Christmas.

When Max awoke the next morning, Joe had left. With joy, Max sat up in his cot surrounded by many bustling people. In the corner of the room, a small Christmas tree had been erected the week earlier. Only, the child smiled because being this close to the festive spirit warmed his bones. The youngster scanned around for his friend; he was nowhere to be seen. Somewhere out there, in the icy-knee conditions, a man lay on a cardboard box dying; proud to comprehend that a child in unfortunate circumstances is celebrating Christmas. Because the way Joe looked at it, if the cold didn't get him first, cancer would.

 

The End

Copyright © 2018 D.K. Daniels; All Rights Reserved.
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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this tale. Drop me an email to let me know via my reader contact email: danny2017writing@outlook.com. You can help me by rating this story via Goodreads. Link below. The story is part of a collection called We Are Here. Doing this enables my stories to reach a larger audience and improves my rankings. Don’t forget also to visit my website and sign up for my mailing list. You can also view some of my older works by clicking on my pen name via the authors tab.

 

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www.dk-daniels.com

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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

Unfortunately, there are shelters that are forced to charge clients to stay due to the high cost of running and staffing the facility. But there are shelters in other places where the stay is free. I was fortunate enough to stay at three different shelters over a two plus year period which did not charge me money to stay. And there aren’t enough shelter beds for all those who are homeless!

 

One forced their religion on anyone unfortunate enough to need their services. What made it worse was how inaccurate their sermons usually were, even according to the tenets they claimed to believe. Even as an Agnostic, I was able to identify misrepresentations and falsehood that were made. They believe that all homeless people somehow caused their own lack of housing (much like the Gay ‘choice’ theory). They also seemed to believe that all homeless people were drug addicts and alcoholics. All their sermons seemed to focus on those features – and denouncements of Gays were tossed in at random, out of context.

 

People who look homeless are treated like trash. Something to dispose of, something to sweep out of the way. Definitely not something you’d want to have disturbing other patrons or customers in public libraries or fine dining establishments like fast food restaurants! Homeless people napping in public parks and libraries are woken up and chased out so they won’t annoy other users (by their mere presence?). Homeless people are condemned for being smelly, but are often not given access to shower or laundering facilities.

 

A large percentage of homeless people are suffering from mental health problems. One doctor I saw when I was homeless told me, of course you’re depressed, who wouldn’t be depressed if they were homeless! Sleep deprivation only exasperates existing mental health issues.

 

But I still see homeless friends who are trapped in a downward spiral. When you’re homeless, much of your time and effort goes into finding food and a place to sleep. This occupies so much of your time that there’s almost no time left to try to search for a job.

 

People who aren’t homeless sometimes get mad when they see homeless people with cellphones. Usually, those are the same people who complain about homeless people being too lazy to get jobs. But cellphones are essential if you are looking for housing or employment. How else are you going to find out that your application has been accepted and approved?

 

In many cases, there are interlocking issues that prevent people from exiting homelessness. If you have no money and no ID, you can’t pay for a replacement and you might not have an address for the government to send it to. Without ID, you can’t apply for government services. When you get government services, there are strict time limits on how long you can receive funds. Periodically, you are required to renew your benefits, usually in person. All government offices seem to have very long lines and wait times are often in hours, not minutes. Some benefits can theoretically last indefinitely, if you can get medical confirmation of a disability – but expect to be denied initially and need to contest the denial. Persistence is essential, but depression causes most to give up prematurely.

 

A homeless friend is old enough to qualify for a Seniors Transit Card. This would allow him to get a discount on nearly all transit rides automatically. But first he needs to get an ID card. Then he needs to apply for the discounted Transit Card. Both require bus rides that he cannot afford. They cannot be done on the same day because the Transit Card needs his ID as proof of his age. I’ve promised to pay for his bus fares, the cost of the ID card (discounted with a form from a homeless services agency), and the initial cost of the Transit Card. The ID card won’t expire for many years longer than a Driver’s License. The Transit Card won’t expire and can be reloaded at BART (and other rail transit systems) ticket machines and some retail stores like Walgreens (or online with a credit card that he doesn’t have). I think it will cost me between $10 and $15 (the cost of a couple cups of Starbucks for those who are addicted to them?).

 

 

I was fortunate enough to get Social Security Disability (for clinical depression and anxiety) and have been housed for over five years now.

  • Sad 1

Another very well written short story. What I particularly like is your writing is not predictable. As I read along my curiosity grows and I wonder how is this going to turn out. There is no guarantee that the little boy is going to live, we could be reading his last words, see his last thoughts.  This ending was very acceptable. I am sorry that Joe likely did not make it, but I have hope that Max will now have a new beginning.  

  • Love 3
On 12/31/2018 at 7:42 PM, travlbug said:

A poignant reminder that bad things can happen to good people and that self sacrifice can be its own reward. 

Most good people fall silent or the small collection of the minority who are unheard of in the bowels of civilization, possess many great attributes. Every homeless person once lived in a house or a building at some point in their life. Many have fascinating stories, and many are a lot more willing and thoughtful than the average middle-class person. I went to Brighton in the middle of December their, in the dead of winter, and I was dawned in a heavy parka, beanie, and scarf, completed with gloves. Even then the cold was still felt, but never before have I seen so many homeless people laying on the side of the street in such an area. I told myself once finished my Christmas novel that I'd take a break to recuperate, instead, I saw reality and decided to capture it. I am glad that you enjoyed it, thanks for the kind words. I hope you stop by for another one of my stories. :)

  • Love 2
On 12/31/2018 at 7:42 PM, droughtquake said:

Unfortunately, there are shelters that are forced to charge clients to stay due to the high cost of running and staffing the facility. But there are shelters in other places where the stay is free. I was fortunate enough to stay at three different shelters over a two plus year period which did not charge me money to stay. And there aren’t enough shelter beds for all those who are homeless!

 

One forced their religion on anyone unfortunate enough to need their services. What made it worse was how inaccurate their sermons usually were, even according to the tenets they claimed to believe. Even as an Agnostic, I was able to identify misrepresentations and falsehood that were made. They believe that all homeless people somehow caused their own lack of housing (much like the Gay ‘choice’ theory). They also seemed to believe that all homeless people were drug addicts and alcoholics. All their sermons seemed to focus on those features – and denouncements of Gays were tossed in at random, out of context.

 

People who look homeless are treated like trash. Something to dispose of, something to sweep out of the way. Definitely not something you’d want to have disturbing other patrons or customers in public libraries or fine dining establishments like fast food restaurants! Homeless people napping in public parks and libraries are woken up and chased out so they won’t annoy other users (by their mere presence?). Homeless people are condemned for being smelly, but are often not given access to shower or laundering facilities.

 

A large percentage of homeless people are suffering from mental health problems. One doctor I saw when I was homeless told me, of course you’re depressed, who wouldn’t be depressed if they were homeless! Sleep deprivation only exasperates existing mental health issues.

 

But I still see homeless friends who are trapped in a downward spiral. When you’re homeless, much of your time and effort goes into finding food and a place to sleep. This occupies so much of your time that there’s almost no time left to try to search for a job.

 

People who aren’t homeless sometimes get mad when they see homeless people with cellphones. Usually, those are the same people who complain about homeless people being too lazy to get jobs. But cellphones are essential if you are looking for housing or employment. How else are you going to find out that your application has been accepted and approved?

 

In many cases, there are interlocking issues that prevent people from exiting homelessness. If you have no money and no ID, you can’t pay for a replacement and you might not have an address for the government to send it to. Without ID, you can’t apply for government services. When you get government services, there are strict time limits on how long you can receive funds. Periodically, you are required to renew your benefits, usually in person. All government offices seem to have very long lines and wait times are often in hours, not minutes. Some benefits can theoretically last indefinitely, if you can get medical confirmation of a disability – but expect to be denied initially and need to contest the denial. Persistence is essential, but depression causes most to give up prematurely.

 

A homeless friend is old enough to qualify for a Seniors Transit Card. This would allow him to get a discount on nearly all transit rides automatically. But first he needs to get an ID card. Then he needs to apply for the discounted Transit Card. Both require bus rides that he cannot afford. They cannot be done on the same day because the Transit Card needs his ID as proof of his age. I’ve promised to pay for his bus fares, the cost of the ID card (discounted with a form from a homeless services agency), and the initial cost of the Transit Card. The ID card won’t expire for many years longer than a Driver’s License. The Transit Card won’t expire and can be reloaded at BART (and other rail transit systems) ticket machines and some retail stores like Walgreens (or online with a credit card that he doesn’t have). I think it will cost me between $10 and $15 (the cost of a couple cups of Starbucks for those who are addicted to them?).

 

 

I was fortunate enough to get Social Security Disability (for clinical depression and anxiety) and have been housed for over five years now.

I have volunteered at some shelters and soup kitchens, and yes one thing I have learned is that some people are paid, resulting in a price tag being applied. This is an awful thing, even at times, I have dug change out of my own pocket to give someone a bed to stay for the night. Its exceptionally hard to watch as another person walks away back out into the cold, when they are already shivering. I wish I had more time to help out, but now since I have moved, I am nowhere near a shelter anymore. I am sorry to hear that you had to experience that, but it is comforting to know that a change can happen. I hope you have a permanent residence now. Ireland is not really like the United States, sure religion is present, but not to that degree where they preach it. I believe people who are the lesser-known folks in society need their fifteen minutes of fame. Many have something to offer, and if everyone was as generous as most homeless folks are, the world would be a different place. Of course, now I know that the entire scene is not peaches and roses, there are quite a number of people who need some treatment for drugs and other such problems, but sometimes as you have said with constantly being moved, and adding to the sleep deprivation, these alternatives become an escape, just like chalk drawing and reading might be for some. As with the cell phone thing, I could possibly try to find myself housing first before I'd buy a phone. I am assuming a senior transit card is some sort of social security card, we don't have that sort of card in Ireland, but we do have a weekly allowance for disability, labor allowance, and unmarried mothers & fathers support. Although I do have to agree that it is ridiculous with the amount of time you have to spend waiting to get a certain document or an I.D. It seems to be an increasing problem that as we go more online these days; the more dependent we believe everyone is online. I am young, so most of my life would revolve around electronics and software, and I'd love to see advancement in all sectors, but sometimes keeping things simple needs to be remembered for the less fortunate, so that they can have a chance to get back on their feet. Plus, I don't see why it ought to be a complicated procedure. Sorry If my comment was em... weird, I don't tend to be good at replying to humans, I guess that why I prefer to observe lol.

  • Love 2
13 hours ago, OzLoGo said:

Another very well written short story. What I particularly like is your writing is not predictable. As I read along my curiosity grows and I wonder how is this going to turn out. There is no guarantee that the little boy is going to live, we could be reading his last words, see his last thoughts.  This ending was very acceptable. I am sorry that Joe likely did not make it, but I have hope that Max will now have a new beginning.  

Thanks, OzLoGo, sometimes when I sit down to write I try to suprise myself. If I can't do that then, I suppose nobody else will be. Sometimes I think the same thing as I am writing... what is it I am trying to unravel here. As I write more I get deeper and deeper into the situation I am telling, and soon before you know it, I have written a story I didn't even think about all that much. I just let it naturally flow from my consciousness in a lucid state. Anytime I write, I am talking to myself, I am trying to convince myself that this material that is showcasing in my head is as real and as alive as a real encounter on the street. Above all I just try to be honest capturing folks, sometimes people may not want to hear about dark things or happy things. However, equally, I have to capture them whenever I fall upon the idea. I never thought about Joe making it, I always thought his choice was a noble thing to do. I know I would feel guilty for the rest of my life if I left a helpless child in the street in the dead of winter, and I could have helped, even if I didn't have much to offer. I am glad that you liked it, I hope everything has been well for you :)

  • Love 2
4 minutes ago, D.K. Daniels said:

As with the cell phone thing, I could possibly try to find myself housing first before I'd buy a phone.

Most homeless people have cellphones that come with prepaid minute plans – often called burner phones. Others have very cheap plans with limited minutes per month. But there are a few who have very expensive phones – their priorities are not very practical.

 

Phones are essential because landlords usually call to confirm that they’ve accepted your application. An alternative is if an agency offers a message service, but you still need to use a phone to access it and if you don’t respond quickly enough, they might withdraw the offer. Or if an agency will receive mail for you, but again, time can be critical.

 

Smartphones can allow access to the internet, but usually with severe restrictions. Fortunately public libraries usually offer free WiFi. Smartphones are much cheaper and more portable than computers.

 

California has a program that gives recipients of certain social service programs a free smartphone with unlimited phone and texting, but very limited data per month. There is a similar Federal program that might be connected. All I know is that all regular California phone users pay a small fee each month that subsidizes either limited landline phone service or the free, but limited, smartphone.

 

But if you don’t qualify for one of those other programs, you don’t get the free phone either.

 

24 minutes ago, D.K. Daniels said:

I am assuming a senior transit card is some sort of social security card, we don't have that sort of card in Ireland, but we do have a weekly allowance for disability, labor allowance, and unmarried mothers & fathers support.

The senior transit card allows me to get discounted rides on transit. A regional agency set up the program where almost all the transit agencies in the region accept the debit-type transit card as payment. They have special cards for children, the disabled, and seniors which allow those who have them to ride at a discount, sometimes half price!  ;–)

 

35 minutes ago, D.K. Daniels said:

Ireland is not really like the United States, sure religion is present, but not to that degree where they preach it.

The Catholic church seems to export your more fervent fanatics to the US to serve as Priests and Nuns here. Lots of Irish and Italian Priests and Nuns in prominent positions, but that also includes many children of immigrants too. All I know as an Agnostic is that the Bishops in the area and the ones in the news usually have either Irish or Italian last names. You’d think there’d be more with Hispanic or Southeast Asian names here in California…  ;–)

 

40 minutes ago, D.K. Daniels said:

I hope you have a permanent residence now.

I’ve been in an apartment for over five years now. I’ve been in this building the whole time, but I switched from a noisier one off the lobby a couple years ago. This one is much larger, as well as quieter, for the same rent.  ;–)

 

I was selected for a Section 8 Housing Voucher Wait List a couple years ago. This is a Federal program that is administered by local governments. The one I’m on is in the county I used to live in, next to the one I currently live in. I expect to be waiting three or four more years before I get my voucher. Then I’ll have to search for a landlord who will accept the voucher. Landlords don’t like dealing with either the government restrictions involved or many of the potential tenants who have qualified for the vouchers. My current landlord accepts them, but I have to live in the jurisdiction that sponsored the voucher for at least a year before I can use it anywhere else.

 

It is very difficult to get on the Wait Lists at all. Thousands apply for the few vouchers that are available. In Alameda County (the agency that sponsored the List I’m on), Oakland (where I used to live) has its own List, so I cannot use the voucher in that city.

 

One of my difficulties is that I hate using the phone – I worked in retail almost all my life and was required to disrupt whatever I was doing to answer the calls (unlike many of my former coworkers, I cannot just ignore the ringing). I don’t like going to new places alone and making calls to unknown landlords feels just as scary. I was able to find this apartment only because the shelter I was staying at had a very sympathetic Housing Coordinator who made all the calls for me and I only had to put in a rental application after I’d seen the apartment – and he drove me here to see it! (He also helped me move my stuff from storage into my new apartment.)

 

55 minutes ago, D.K. Daniels said:

…we do have a weekly allowance for disability, labor allowance, and unmarried mothers & fathers support.

One of my problems was that I sort of fell through the cracks. It took more than two years to get Disability. In the meantime, I didn’t qualify for unemployment because I was fired from my last job (due to side-effects of my clinical depression, although I didn’t realize it at the time). I’m not a parent, so I didn’t qualify for any of those benefits. I’m not a Vet, so I didn’t qualify for any of the programs set up to assist the (honorably discharged) ex-military Vets. I’m not a drug or alcohol addict, so I didn’t qualify for any of those sorts of programs. I’m not an ex-con, so I didn’t qualify for any of the programs for those who’d been incarcerated. I wasn’t homeless because of a disaster like a fire or flood, so I didn’t qualify for those sorts of programs either.

 

I was fortunate that I’d already sought psychological and psychiatric treatment for depression and anxiety. I had more than two years of documented proof when I applied for Social Security Disability. My initial application was denied (as is typical) for not being serious enough to prevent me from working. I was able to get a non-profit organization to assign me a pro bono lawyer to argue my case for me and he was able to get the hearing judge enough information for my case to be won.

 

1 hour ago, D.K. Daniels said:

Although I do have to agree that it is ridiculous with the amount of time you have to spend waiting to get a certain document or an I.D. It seems to be an increasing problem that as we go more online these days; the more dependent we believe everyone is online. I am young, so most of my life would revolve around electronics and software, and I'd love to see advancement in all sectors, but sometimes keeping things simple needs to be remembered for the less fortunate, so that they can have a chance to get back on their feet. Plus, I don't see why it ought to be a complicated procedure.

The legislators who create the laws and the administrators who set up the rules generally don’t check to see the effects of their determinations. Many of the legislators have an agenda to discourage applicants from receiving benefits. Underfunding agencies that deal with social services is defended as trimming waste, but really just makes caseloads heavier and lines longer.

 

In California, Republicans forced through legislation that forces social service applicants to provide fingerprints and what amounts to a mugshot. Ostensibly this is to prevent fraud, but is intended to make applicants feel like criminals. It’s part of the demonization of the needy by the ultra-wealthy.

 

1 hour ago, D.K. Daniels said:

Sorry If my comment was em... weird, I don't tend to be good at replying to humans, I guess that why I prefer to observe lol.

The Observer. In the Americanized Enneagram (of personality), I am a 5, the Observer. (I had always thought it was originally developed by Sufi philosophers, but Wikipedia doesn’t mention anything about that. Wikipedia also says most now consider it to be pseudoscience.)  ;–)

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On 1/2/2019 at 11:32 PM, droughtquake said:

Most homeless people have cellphones that come with prepaid minute plans – often called burner phones. Others have very cheap plans with limited minutes per month. But there are a few who have very expensive phones – their priorities are not very practical.

 

Phones are essential because landlords usually call to confirm that they’ve accepted your application. An alternative is if an agency offers a message service, but you still need to use a phone to access it and if you don’t respond quickly enough, they might withdraw the offer. Or if an agency will receive mail for you, but again, time can be critical.

 

Smartphones can allow access to the internet, but usually with severe restrictions. Fortunately public libraries usually offer free WiFi. Smartphones are much cheaper and more portable than computers.

 

California has a program that gives recipients of certain social service programs a free smartphone with unlimited phone and texting, but very limited data per month. There is a similar Federal program that might be connected. All I know is that all regular California phone users pay a small fee each month that subsidizes either limited landline phone service or the free, but limited, smartphone.

 

But if you don’t qualify for one of those other programs, you don’t get the free phone either.

 

The senior transit card allows me to get discounted rides on transit. A regional agency set up the program where almost all the transit agencies in the region accept the debit-type transit card as payment. They have special cards for children, the disabled, and seniors which allow those who have them to ride at a discount, sometimes half price!  ;–)

 

The Catholic church seems to export your more fervent fanatics to the US to serve as Priests and Nuns here. Lots of Irish and Italian Priests and Nuns in prominent positions, but that also includes many children of immigrants too. All I know as an Agnostic is that the Bishops in the area and the ones in the news usually have either Irish or Italian last names. You’d think there’d be more with Hispanic or Southeast Asian names here in California…  ;–)

 

I’ve been in an apartment for over five years now. I’ve been in this building the whole time, but I switched from a noisier one off the lobby a couple years ago. This one is much larger, as well as quieter, for the same rent.  ;–)

 

I was selected for a Section 8 Housing Voucher Wait List a couple years ago. This is a Federal program that is administered by local governments. The one I’m on is in the county I used to live in, next to the one I currently live in. I expect to be waiting three or four more years before I get my voucher. Then I’ll have to search for a landlord who will accept the voucher. Landlords don’t like dealing with either the government restrictions involved or many of the potential tenants who have qualified for the vouchers. My current landlord accepts them, but I have to live in the jurisdiction that sponsored the voucher for at least a year before I can use it anywhere else.

 

It is very difficult to get on the Wait Lists at all. Thousands apply for the few vouchers that are available. In Alameda County (the agency that sponsored the List I’m on), Oakland (where I used to live) has its own List, so I cannot use the voucher in that city.

 

One of my difficulties is that I hate using the phone – I worked in retail almost all my life and was required to disrupt whatever I was doing to answer the calls (unlike many of my former coworkers, I cannot just ignore the ringing). I don’t like going to new places alone and making calls to unknown landlords feels just as scary. I was able to find this apartment only because the shelter I was staying at had a very sympathetic Housing Coordinator who made all the calls for me and I only had to put in a rental application after I’d seen the apartment – and he drove me here to see it! (He also helped me move my stuff from storage into my new apartment.)

 

One of my problems was that I sort of fell through the cracks. It took more than two years to get Disability. In the meantime, I didn’t qualify for unemployment because I was fired from my last job (due to side-effects of my clinical depression, although I didn’t realize it at the time). I’m not a parent, so I didn’t qualify for any of those benefits. I’m not a Vet, so I didn’t qualify for any of the programs set up to assist the (honorably discharged) ex-military Vets. I’m not a drug or alcohol addict, so I didn’t qualify for any of those sorts of programs. I’m not an ex-con, so I didn’t qualify for any of the programs for those who’d been incarcerated. I wasn’t homeless because of a disaster like a fire or flood, so I didn’t qualify for those sorts of programs either.

 

I was fortunate that I’d already sought psychological and psychiatric treatment for depression and anxiety. I had more than two years of documented proof when I applied for Social Security Disability. My initial application was denied (as is typical) for not being serious enough to prevent me from working. I was able to get a non-profit organization to assign me a pro bono lawyer to argue my case for me and he was able to get the hearing judge enough information for my case to be won.

 

The legislators who create the laws and the administrators who set up the rules generally don’t check to see the effects of their determinations. Many of the legislators have an agenda to discourage applicants from receiving benefits. Underfunding agencies that deal with social services is defended as trimming waste, but really just makes caseloads heavier and lines longer.

 

In California, Republicans forced through legislation that forces social service applicants to provide fingerprints and what amounts to a mugshot. Ostensibly this is to prevent fraud, but is intended to make applicants feel like criminals. It’s part of the demonization of the needy by the ultra-wealthy.

 

The Observer. In the Americanized Enneagram (of personality), I am a 5, the Observer. (I had always thought it was originally developed by Sufi philosophers, but Wikipedia doesn’t mention anything about that. Wikipedia also says most now consider it to be pseudoscience.)  ;–)

5

 

I apologize for the long reply, everything has been hectic getting back on track after the holidays.

 

Here in Ireland, most homeless people have cheap phones, nothing like an iPhone or plans for mobile data. Again the USA is a larger place, so there is a substantially larger population of homeless than there would be in Ireland. Therefore, the ratio of homeless with a pre-paid minutes is possibly larger. I think in Ireland, they are given a PO box to find out whether they have made a job application to see if they were selected. Phones do have benefits sure, but as you said there are far more fundamental things they could be using the money to support themselves. I guess, however, it is better than drugs or alcohol. It’s good to hear that you are doing well for yourself. In regards to the transport ticket, it sounds like it is out version of the Leap Card.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leap_card

 

I guess Irish priest has become a known icon in churches in America. The ironic thing is, religion is dying in Ireland. No with just the past of what has happened in Ireland with the priesthood, but people are aspiring to be more innovative individuals. I myself, am an atheist. A church is a landmark with four walls and lovely windows to me. Whereas, dirt and maggots are below, and dying fireballs and vast nothingness are off in space. I respect other people’s believes, but for me I guess, I am one of the people who has taken that alternative road. I’ll often wonder if many Irish priests will continue to show up in America, considering it's a dying condition here.

 

I suppose, regardless of being homeless or not, many people do not like having to hassle someone with a phone call. I don’t like calling someone I do not know. Besides I cringe anytime I have to call the local library. Never mind someone important. Except, I suppose it is exceptionally stressing for someone to be living on the street and looking for work. I guess for many you are waiting for a miracle that you are binding for.

 

Falling through the cracks has happened to me to, when I left school I took a year out, and since I didn’t have much documentation to begin with other than my passport, I had such a hassle trying to open a bank account. Never mind apply for something. For most of my life my parents handled everything, most teenagers do not drive in Ireland, unlike the USA so it's not a requirement. Therefore, I had no passport, not I.D. bills, nothing. It seems in this day and age it is easy to fall through the cracks.

 

A couple of years ago, when I was around 13, I did see a psychologist and was diagnosed supposedly with Asperger’s. It never made me feel any different than before with having a name added to it, but nonetheless, it was nice to have a name to my companion. In all the things that got me in the door to apply was my diagnosis documents…

 

As with the personality thing, I guess I am the same as you, the Observer. I tend to watch and evaluate what it is I need to do and say before I do. J

Edited by D.K. Daniels
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On 1/8/2019 at 10:49 AM, D.K. Daniels said:

In regards to the transport ticket, it sounds like it is out version of the Leap Card.

Our Clipper Card is much more complex due to the number of transit entities and jurisdictions involved. The Bay Area is usually defined as the nine counties in the region, but definitions differ. Historically, most things were planned locally, as in city by city or at best by county.

 

With transportation, that means we have more than a dozen bus systems, each with their own fare structure, funding sources, and priorities. Layered over that are the rail systems – two that are owned by bus systems (SF Muni Metro, VTA light rail), Amtrak California (Capital Corridor [to Sacramento] & San Joaquin [to LA using a bus bridge through the Tehachapi Pass]) is a state subsidized enhancement of the national system (to the point where the state owns locomotives and passenger cars), and Amtrak operating long distance trains (Coast Starlight [to LA and Seattle] and California Zephyr [to Chicago]). And we have several ferry systems that cross the Bay in various directions.

 

 

BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) was designed in the ‘60s and was the first modern (post-WWII) mass transit system built in the US. They really tried to sell the system to skeptical residents by having sloped noses on the end cars to look more futuristic. That theme was carried through with the brushed aluminum bodies. BART uses a non-standard wide gauge to allow ‘first-class’ width seating. Operations are computerized from central control. Trains were projected to arrive every couple minutes, so no one would ever need to stand. The system was designed with too few switches, crossovers, and sidings – with none through the critical Tubes that run under the Bay.

 

Unfortunately, the sloped noses made shortening and lengthening trains complex and difficult, so when additional cars were ordered decades later, the new ‘C’ cars were designed to function as end cars, but can be attached in the middle of the train. The non-standard gauge means that all equipment (including maintenance cars) used must be custom built, adding to the cost since nothing can be purchased ‘off the shelf.’ The computerized controls never functioned as promised and safety requirements have meant that five minutes between trains is achievable under unusual conditions with twenty minutes more common. The unique ‘X’ configuration of the system would be easier to run by computer if either all the lines ran from one point (SFO/Millbrae) out to the ends or if the lines only crossed each other. Unfortunately, they do both with trains needing to interact and cross each other. Because most of the central parts of the system are underground (under downtown Oakland, and to a certain extent downtown SF) it would be incredibly expensive to add parallel rail lines to boost capacity. Because of design deficiencies, BART cannot run 24/7 except under extraordinary conditions (as it did after the section of the Bay Bridge collapsed during the Loma Prieta Quake) because it needs to shut down every night for maintenance.

 

BART is currently running at capacity and is awaiting new, higher capacity trains that Bombardier is already late delivering. There are proposals to add a second set of Tubes under the Bay with new lines that serve areas with congested bus lines. There are proposals to add infill stations between existing stations and extensions to serve outlying areas. There are proposals to add street car service to parts of the East Bay. I’m sure that the cost to build all of the proposals would be in the multi-trillions of dollars. DC is currently unfriendly to these sorts of infrastructure projects, so the lack of funding will keep most of them from being completed. But at least a few will need to be built to avoid gridlock.

Edited by droughtquake
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