What drew me to Earl’s Place originally was learning that there was a need I could fulfill: I have been training people, particularly about using technology, for a number of years, and I learned that there were men at Earl’s Place who had never been online. These days it is nearly impossible to find employment and take care of other issues without access to the Internet, and one can hardly go more than a few days without having to provide someone an email address.  There was a definite interest among the men, so I began tutoring on a roughly biweekly basis.  

I remember walking into Earl’s Place for the first time, wondering what it would be like. The word “shelter” conjured for me rows of army cots, so I was pleasantly surprised that it felt like a home, with individual rooms, outfitted by the residents to be their own. Nothing about Earl’s Place felt institutional. The word “homeless” also conjured a certain picture of what the men would be like, and again I was surprised to find the people I met open, honest, and charming.

One of the first residents I helped get online was a man named Kevin. He had never used a computer before. I will always remember our first session. While I entered information to start an email account for him, he told me about his time in prison, and in particular that he had not been able to read when he arrived there. He had taken a bundle of newspapers that had been used for weightlifting, opened it up, and over the course of months taught himself to read. I was impressed with his drive.

As I showed Kevin a tiny slice of what was available on the Internet, he had a question about whether there would be information online about one of the largest flowers in the world, Titan Arum, about which he had recently seen a television show. He had a doubting friend, and wanted to show him that the plant was real. It did not take long to find a web site with the flower, and Kevin wanted me to print some of the information, which I did. We found another site and he wanted me to print more. And again. As the printed pages began to add up, I could see Kevin realize that he had just tapped into a huge well of knowledge about the world. It was a thrill to be there with him as he discovered the Internet. By the time he graduated from Earl’s Place he had his own laptop and was continuing with his avid interests.

More recently, I had an experience with Leon, a father and recovering addict who had never to that point been online. As I was showing him around the web, he mentioned that he had a son overseas who played professional basketball, and he wondered if there would be anything out there about his son. Within a couple of minutes we were looking at photos and statistics of his son, not only recent ones, but from college, and I could see how moved Leon was to have access. Again I was thrilled to be there then. Over the course of some weeks he got more involved online, got a Facebook account, and began connecting online with family and old friends.  As isolation is a key piece o addiction, being able to connect with people online can help people to maintain healthy connections, and Leon certainly seemed to benefit from it.

Those are the kinds of encounters that hooked me: being able to assist with useful skills and being present as the world suddenly expanded for another person. What keeps me coming back, working on the Board, donating, is the feeling of hope and success at Earl’s Place. The men are working hard at rebuilding their lives, and they are for the greatest part succeeding with the help of a small but thoroughly dedicated staff. The men believe in themselves, and they are making enormous and positive changes in their lives. The energy inside this small community of men is powerful, and being involved with it is fulfilling and rejuvenating. Isn’t it time for you to take that plunge?

Have you ever wondered what it is like to be a resident of Earl’s Place?  Our new serial, The Life and Times of Ronnie R. will follow Ronnie from entry to exit.  Stay tuned!

Seeking a change
Ronnie had heard about Earl’s Place from his uncle. His uncle, Bob, was a past resident of Earl’s Place.  Now he has an apartment and 10 years of sobriety.  Like the other residents of Earl’s Place, Ronnie is seeking a place where he can break away from his old life and create a new and positive one.

Life before Earl’s Place
Ronnie has been in several different transitional programs but he says this time it is definitely a different experience. “I was never introduced to anyone; they kept to themselves… seven out of nine people were still getting high in one transitional program I was in. People were going out doing whatever they wanted; they didn’t appear to care about their recovery or themselves. I thought, ‘How are we to live on life’s terms when we don’t even know how to follow the rules’.”

Finding a Home at Earl’s Place
Ronnie was pleasantly surprised when he arrived at Earl’s Place. The first day he was introduced to every resident in the building. The residents welcomed him with open arms, asking him if he needed anything, giving him food to start him off, and telling him to let them know if he had any questions. “I’m going through a lot right now.  My son is in the hospital.  My mom has breast cancer. My son’s mother in rehab and with me in a program, we are not able to take care of our son so he and will be going to foster care.”  Fortunately with all of these challenges he has found support in the community at Earl’s Place. “I am getting a lot of good advice. The guys have been taking me to meetings with them. Asking me if I’m hungry [...] they have all been really helpful. And, not just in one way, but in many different ways; I’ve never seen a group of guys like this before.” “Them not knowing me and helping me out like they did and still helping me out, it’s just …tremendous.
It opened my eyes up to the fact that even people with bad pasts and former troubles in their life like getting high and having no place to stay can still be nice, helpful and willing to do good to others.”

Looking forward
“I want to be a family guy. A father to my son.” Ronnie hopes to be able to live with his family in his own place one day. With his son Jordan being born a few weeks ago, he finds himself no longer living just for himself, but now also living for his son. “I just want to be the Ronnie that I was when I was a teenager; the one people could trust.  I want to get as much as I can as out of this program, raise my son and teach him about staying clean and not getting high. I want to change my ways and change everything about me that was bad and just become a new person.” One day at a time Ronnie moves forward toward his goal and we hope to accompany him every step of his way!

Sammy was the resident philosopher during his time at Earl’s Place – he always had one insight or another for the day. I sat down to talk with him shortly before he graduated from our program, and wrote down everything he said. I was blown away by what he told me, and so I didn’t feel justified editing what he said too much. So, in his own words, here is Sammy’s story.

Life on the Streets

I slept in vans, cars, abandominiums [abandoned buildings], I stole out of stores, I did everything. There were times when all I had to eat was a bag of chips, a Snickers, and a juice.

In the end of my addiction, I was in a little area, I was stuck in this one gas station, asking for change, wondering where I could get one from, stealing out of stores, hitting people’s stashes; I just kept stealing, out of stores, taking from people I know I shouldn’t’ve been taking from. I’ve been shot on multiple times, stabbed, and baseball batted.

I lost my respect for myself, for others. I lost the respect of my sons. I lost the respect of other people who looked up to me. Most of all, I lost myself. I didn’t have no direction, I lived just to get high. All day long, every day. I went from a person who liked the way he dressed to being a bum, a derelict. I had gotten content with stinking, with begging for money, didn’t care where I slept at, all I cared about was getting high. I got all right with being like that. I had no purpose, no meaning in life.

My addiction started when I was 17 years old, and it went on for a while, 23, 24 years of my life – until I got sick and tired of being sick and tired. In 2007, I tried something different. I went into recovery, got clean, and I made it 11 months, but I fell short. But I got back up.

Home Again

Get God and get him fast, they tell you, and I realize that God held me through all that crazy stuff, all that insanity I did.

Coming to a place like this is the best thing that could’ve happened in my life. Sheila took time to sit and talk to me, and gave me a key. The first time I had a key to any place in my life. When I felt down or unsure about something, I’d call her, and she’d say, “Sammy, come on home.” She didn’t say, “Come to the center,” or “Come back to Earl’s Place,” she said “home.” And I listened, I’d come home. That was the first time I had a place to call home in a long time.

Earl’s Place taught me how to deal with other individuals. When you’re living with 16 other men, you got a lot of different personalities, but with different issues. We all suffer from the same thing, drug abuse, everyone has the same pain.

This place gave me a lot, though. Teaching me to take care of myself, teaching me how to cook, it’s a good atmosphere. The dudes in here are all working on the same goal: one day at a time, staying clean, obtaining employment and housing.

I’m no longer shifting the blame onto somebody else. I can stand as a man today and be responsible for any action I do. This program has given me the ability to make the right decisions for the right reasons.

Like I said, when I’m wrong, I don’t need Ms. Sheila, I don’t need Jim, I don’t need no one to tell me – I feel it wrong spiritually in my heart.

To speak to someone who might be down, to tell him good morning, to hug the unhuggable, approach them regardless;  Earl’s Place, point blank, has taught me how to be a man, shown me that I can’t dwell on the miscellaneous stuff. Sometimes as an addict, I can turn a molehill into a mountain. Sheila’s taught me how to breathe, how to slow down.

Ms. Sheila asks us to feed the hungry around here, and I have no problem doing that, cuz I used to be one of them. If it weren’t for places like that, I wouldn’t’ve eaten. Them church people on Garrison and Fairview, they’d hold me a plate, even if I was late. I don’t forget the little things that meant so much to me. Restaurants would invite me in to eat, and they’d fix it for me, knowing I couldn’t pay. We still got good people who live here today. They don’t expect nothing back.

I love Earl’s Place, not because you’re writing this down, and coming in I wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. Thanks to Earl’s Place, it gave me a second chance at life, showing me that I can do this, that it ain’t as hard as I thought it was. The big fight was me, procrastinating was me — and fear. Fear itself. I still have some fear, but I’m not scared to jump out there on faith, and it carries a long way, and this program made me a believer, if I just put the work in.

In my time being here, I saw a lot of dudes successfully go out, and I’ve seen people fall short. I feel for the ones who fell short, but I know that I’m responsible for my own recovery. I gotta just watch out for myself. If I see someone going astray, I can say something, and I’m gonna tell them what I’m seeing, but it’s on them, and I know that.

I was putting on that suit and tie every day, going to interviews, and finally someone called. I gotta continue to work hard, you must believe, you have to believe in someone, you have to believe in this process.

A New Beginning

Now I’m employed, I’m a state worker, I have my own apartment, my own door key, my own refrigerator, my own stove. And that’s a big plus, that’s amazing, for me to accomplish all the goals I accomplished in just 16 months.

People call me Mister today. I got keys to my own place. I got keys to my daughter’s house – people trust me with keys now. Aw man, life is so good, even though it still has its downs. I still go through the same things, sometimes fighting my own emotions. Now I know to just fall back and pray. I have the ability to let go and pray, and to start it all over again. At one time I couldn’t do that. I’m learning to get better with being by myself. And I have access to other people, to a therapist, job counselors; I thank God for all these people who came in contact with me.

July 19 was my clean date, 2 years clean. I still work on a daily basis, and that’s just staying clean. I can’t get arrogant or cocky in this process. I never feel like I’ve “arrived” cuz I don’t wanna feel like I‘m better than someone else. I don’t want to hurt no one anymore, I don’t want to be addicted to people, places or things, either. I just wished I could’ve been clean when my mom died. I miss her very dearly.

To me, in my words, I’m saying Earl’s Place will always be a big part of me, no matter where life takes me. I will always consider this home.

I just want people to know that if I can do it, you can do it too. If you don’t believe in yourself, who will?

My life today is not the same as yesterday. I’m working on leaving something, not just financial. I want my eulogy to say, “He was a good person, a loving a caring person, who had a smile that was out of this world, who took time to hug the unhuggable, to be a trusted servant, to carry this message.” A beacon to someone else. I can’t think of just myself, it’s not about me anymore. It’s about the recovering addict who’s still out there.

I know to open a door for a lady, saying “Yes ma’am,” “No sir.” Somewhere along the line, I forgot all that respect when I was using drugs. And today I’ve got it back. I’m no better than no one, I’m really not. The only person I can give the credit to is God, and the people He surrounds me with – Ms. Sheila, Jim, Mike, Champ, and all these other 16 dudes who I came in contact with every day.

I can’t sit here and lie; I still have some fear, because I haven’t been on my own in a long time. But that’s another thing I have to turn over to God. God already has plans for me. It’s already mapped out, it’s destined, God ain’t cleaned me up this far to let me fall again. I’m not doubting His power. If He can do all this for me in 16 months, He has made me a total believer. I’m just trying to be the best person I can be and do what I do best.

But now, I care for people. I have empathy for other people. I can see someone else hurting, and sometimes it’s a good thing and sometimes it’s not. I can feel for that person. I see how kids treat their elders today and it’s not right.

I always got someplace I can go and talk to someone. I’ve got too much family now, that’s y’all and NA. I’ll never be homeless again.

International culture wasn’t the only eye-opening experience the Marine Corps introduced Andre to. Within a short time, he’d sampled a wide variety of drugs, and was drinking copious amounts of alcohol. He left the military in good standing after three years, but the seeds of his addiction were planted. In his late twenties, he became addicted to crack, and his life started to take a turn for the worse. He went out on his own, and lost contact with his family.

One day, a friend of his found him and told him that his father had passed away. “I didn’t know because I was out getting high,” Andre says. “That really took a toll on me.” He was able to clean himself up and be a support for his mother and sister, but two years later, his mother passed away as well. He started using crack again, and went out on his own. Over the years, he was able to build himself some clean time for a year here and there, but he didn’t stay sober for more than three years. Even if he was working, Andre explains, “I didn’t have no place of my own. I always lived with a woman – my name’s never been on the lease.”

After seventeen months in a rehabilitation program, Andre made his way to Earl’s Place. “I came here with a plan– I gave myself 30 days to find a job.” Sure enough, he got a job as a security guard, and though it was a high-stress environment, he stuck with it for eight months in order to build up his resume. Having the stability that he found at Earl’s Place was a great help to him during this time. “You can talk to staff about anything here,” Andre says. “I think all programs should have a staff like Earl’s Place.”

Andre recently moved to a new position as a security guard, and it’s a much better fit. His main focus is saving up his money and getting his own place to live – the first one in his life. “I’m just happy,” he says. “I have peace of mind today.” He adds that he knows who to thank for it all: “Without God, none of this would have happened.”

Most important for Andre, though, is staying clean. “I never thought that I would be an alcoholic or an addict,” Andre says. “So many people told me I needed help and you never think that something’s wrong with you. But as long as you stay in denial, the worse it gets. When I came out of denial, I found out who I really am – I’m not a bad person.” It’s a profound realization, and one that has empowered him to reach out to other addicts who are ready to stop using.

Over the years, we have served many veterans here at Earl’s Place, and we are proud to be part of their journey to a stable life. On Independence Day, we thank all of the people that have worked to ensure freedom in our country, and celebrate the independence we have gained. We’re proud of all the steps Andre and all of our residents have taken to build their own independence.

Alan wanted employment, and he worked hard to get it. But because of his alcohol addiction, keeping a job was another matter. Again and again, he lost jobs due to drinking, and each time, his addiction worsened. “After I was fired from my job of ten years at the country club for drinking, I went downhill. I started drinking every day. I’d have a pint of vodka to get me up in the morning, another to me through the day, and another to put me to sleep.” When he lost his job again, his wife told him she couldn’t take it anymore. Soon, he was homeless.

Life on the streets was unbearable. “I slept in abandoned buildings, I slept on rooftops, I slept in doorways,” Alan says. “I got beat up by young kids, I got bottles thrown on me, I got pissed on. It’s no kind of life for nobody. You lose your self-respect and all that.”

Alan was losing his health, as well. Already in his late fifties, he realized that he couldn’t keep living the way he was. So, after getting some clean time in a rehabilitation program, he found his way to Earl’s Place. The change in setting was a welcome one. “It was homely, it was cozy-like, it was nice,” Alan says, adding, “And it was safe.”

It wasn’t easy, though. He knew that it would take vigilance to keep himself off the streets. “Ain’t nobody can help you but yourself when it comes to drinking. If you put yourself on somebody else, you’re gonna fall down,” Alan says. “But you still need people behind you, too, like at Earl’s Place.”

Though he identifies more as a loner, living with a community of other men who also were striving to build lives after being on the streets was helpful for Alan. “We went to [Alcoholics Anonymous] meetings together and did everything together. That gave us strength,” he says.

Earl’s Place helped Alan get back to work and move into his own place. He hasn’t returned to the streets since he graduated from our program 6 years ago. Two years back, he retired from his job as a groundskeeper. He and his wife live frugally now, but it’s nothing they can’t handle at this point, he says. “I lost a lot of things in my lifetime. I had to start all over.” Thanks to the strength and determination he built for himself, he could start over this time with something he didn’t have when he had to make a life on the streets: his self-respect.

We understand you have a choice in choosing to support Earl’s Place, whether it’s by providing us with a much-needed monetary donation, helping a resident furnish his new apartment, or teaching one of our clients how to use the internet. We are always honored by your contributions, with the knowledge that you are as careful with giving your time and money as we are.

Sometimes we get so busy, though, that Sheila and I don’t even think about all the time and energy that we put in here, as well. That’s what made John’s letter so special when we received it last week:

Dear Sheila,

I am a recreational runner and have participated in the resolution run for the past two years. I run in 10-15 events a year and am always happy to pay the entry fee knowing the majority of it is going to a good cause. Newsletters such as yours often follow for months or years and I usually skim through them, put them in the recycling bin, & get on with my busy life.

Yours lingered on my breakfast bar for weeks and was read and reread. The suggestion of investing my tax return in Earl’s Place struck a chord. So here it is.

Sincerely yours,

John

Sheila, our executive director, had added John to our newsletter mailing list when he signed up for the Resolution Run, a 5K race we host each year in Patterson Park to benefit Earl’s Place. In the newsletter he’s referring to, we suggested donating 10% of your tax return to our program — “investing” it in the future of one of our residents.

It meant so much to Sheila and I that John took some inspiration from our words. I know that for me, speaking with the men of Earl’s Place and seeing their struggles and successes is tremendously inspiring — I’m honored to be a part of this program’s efforts. It’s especially moving, then, to know that other people can connect with this work, too. It really brightened our day.

Want to invest in a new beginning for one of our clients, too? Donate securely online, or mail a check made out to United Ministries, Inc. to 

United Ministries, Inc.
1400 E. Lombard Street
Baltimore, MD 21231

Last night, Sheila and I went to Center Stage on Calvert Street to see the latest show in the Stoop Storytelling series, “Gimme Shelter: Stories about Finding, Creating, and Losing a Home.” The series gives ordinary folks a chance to share stories from their own experiences, be they hilarious, moving, or tragic. Last night’s show was no exception, and it meant even more to us because one of the presenters was Luke Wesby, a former resident at Earl’s Place.

Luke talked about his long journey to become housed. He shared some painful details of the times when he struggled with addiction and had nowhere to stay, such as when he threw soda cans to keep rats away as he slept, and the day he says he saw a reflection in a window, and realized “that bum was me.” It was incredible to then see the pride on his face as he talked about how his persistence with Johns Hopkins’ Live Where You Work Program earned him his own house.

All of the stories were fascinating and spectacularly delivered. But the contrasts really hit home for me. In two hours, we heard about a family passing on a prized suburban home to other family members, and we heard from a young woman who at one point had lived under a bridge. We heard about renovating an heirloom log cabin in the Adirondacks, and we heard about dozens of children and teenagers being thrown out of their homes, only to be taken in by a father and his teenage son.

The stories highlighted the harsh contrasts that people experience in our country when it comes to access to housing. I think that’s incredibly valuable, so that we don’t become too enamored of our own stories, forgetting to offer aid to people who desperately need it. Every day here at Earl’s Place, men and women call us, looking for housing. I think it could be very easy to miss the fact that some of them have stories very similar to what we heard in Gimme Shelter. It reminds me of how imperative it is for us to help people looking for shelter.

You can watch the performance here:
Part 1
Part 2

What spoke to you in the show? Tell us in the comments!

The media was on fire last week about Ted Williams, a man catapulted to stardom as the result of a viral video showcasing his incredible radio voice. In a week, he went from panhandling on the side of the road to appearing on news programs under the moniker “The Man with the Golden Voice,” even performing a paid voiceover for a Kraft macaroni and cheese commercial.

From the beginning, Williams candidly traced his homelessness to drug and alcohol addictions, so I had a pit in my stomach as I heard about his newfound prestige and wealth. I worried that we’d shortly be hearing about his return to drug use, even as I hoped he had a strong network that would help keep him on top of his addiction. Sadly, last week Williams revealed on Dr. Phil that he had indeed begun drinking again, and he has resolved to go into rehab.

As America reflects on Mr. Williams’ story, we can’t help but do the same here at Earl’s Place. Mr. Williams’ experience is very similar to that of our residents: they are struggling to make the best of the second chance they’ve gotten for themselves. Granted, most of our residents are fighting tooth and nail for jobs, not having them laid at their feet. But our residents, like Williams, have to carve their own paths as they build foundations for their lives. They have to tread the narrow road of sobriety while being harried by their pasts and working to totally reshape their lifestyle. The destination isn’t the end, though. I can imagine nothing as harrowing as living on the street, but as anyone will attest, the housed life presents a range of challenges of its own.

Still, we’d all like to believe that if we just had enough money, all our problems would be solved. In reality, that’s seldom the case — and for Ted Williams, being overwhelmed with money showed him exactly where he still needed to grow. Being an addict, Williams needed more than just a change of economic circumstances to move into a secure life.

And it’s here that the experiences of our residents and those of Mr. Williams differ. A door opened for him, but he didn’t have someone to help him navigate the new territory, with all its twists, turns, and temptations. Transitional housing programs like Earl’s Place are able to help men get their own housing and finances in order, and then outfit them with the knowledge and life skills they need to stand on their own feet.

There’s another place where Mr. Williams and our residents differ. For him, the people extending help were the Cleveland Cavaliers and Kraft, big corporations looking to profit from his 15 minutes of fame. But the people offering a second chance to our residents are just ordinary people who donate with the desire to see homeless men have a new life — and make sure they can keep living it when they’re on their own.

I hope that Mr. Williams’ time in rehab will help him find the resources and structure he needs to make a better life this time around. No one should ever have to live on the streets, and it would be a travesty if the next step in his life closed doors instead of opening them.

As someone who writes a lot of Facebook posts and articles for Earl’s Place, I have to always be on the lookout for good quotes. I’m not always very comfortable doing it — I personally like to listen to what a person is saying, so I feel uncomfortable for example trying to coax someone into saying something that would make a good sound bite for a video.

So when I was volunteering at the Resolution Run this past Saturday, I was just at a loss — I’d be taking out some more chili, or helping carrying water around, and someone would pass me by saying the kind of thing an article-writer dreams of. “What a marvelous way to start the New Year!” “The chili and cornbread get more incredible every year!” “Earl’s Place really gives the guys a second chance on life.” “This is my favorite New Year’s tradition.” All these great quotes, and I wasn’t even looking for them!

It’s a wonderful feeling to support an event and a cause that people really care about. And having 738 registrants (43% more than last year!) shows that the Resolution Run is really something people want to get involved with. People are still taking the poll to let us know what they liked and didn’t like about the race and what motivated them to participate (here’s the link if you haven’t taken it yet), but it seems clear that the Resolution Run has become a welcome tradition in a lot of lives. It’s great to be a part of it!