Respect in Actions and Words
I am in a completely inward, reflective mood. I returned to Newport today for a meeting with a professional contact and then with Hippie Chick to discuss a possible collaboration between her organization and the Coalition. I was also to call Victorian Lady afterward to finalize my new living arrangements and move-in date.
Sitting in People’s Cafe, Hippie Chick and I talked about the need for society to view the homeless as human beings instead of social outcasts. We both feel that these men and women should be viewed and treated with dignity and respect. Love. How could we dramatize it publicly? A “party” in the park!
Party in the Park, for me, is to be a meet and greet event where all are invited to share food and friendship with our homeless community members. I suggested this Sunday from 2-4pm in Touro Park. Hippie Chick flew into full-swing planning mode. She furiously typed down ideas as quickly as she spurted them out. “We need a table, coffee, soup, and flyers. I can make the soup. Plastic bowls, cups, silverware. Maybe we can get these people to donate the cups and coffee. We don’t need any napkins. That produces more trash. They’re homeless. They just wipe their mouths on their sleeves and their hands on their pants anyway,” she whizzed out in what seemed like a nanosecond.
I, on the other hand, had gone into a state of spiritual, mental, and emotional shut down. Doing so was the only way I could remain present in her chaotic energy. Plus, some of her comments did not sound very loving or dignified. God just instructed me to remain still and observe.
“Do we need a permit to do this in that park being that the Newport Tower is there?” I inquired.
“Oh, there are ways around that,” Hippie Chick quipped. “We don’t have to put up a table. We could just put the food in bags…” she suggested, “and hand the bags out to them [in a more covert manner]. Why shouldn’t we be able to feed people in a park?” Here was the start of her rant against the system. She believes that you cannot work with the system to obtain the right to do something as simple as having a community gathering. She feels that you have to fight the system—buck the system—to expose its cracks and turn everything up on end.
Hmmm, God, I don’t know about this, I thought.
“Just be still and listen,” he instructed.
Hippie Chick spoke with a coffeehouse worker—who may have been the manager; I’m not sure—and secured their agreement to donate cups and coffee. Towing a stack of paper cups nearly as tall as me, we left for Panera Bread to get a pledge for food donations. “Let her speak,” God whispered in my ear. “Just observe.” I obeyed.
She explained our plans to the manager. “Would you be willing to donate your trash that you have left at the end of the day? We could come pick it up,” she stated with a comfortable fluidity. The manager quite genuinely said that he’d be happy to provide us with an array of unsold bagels and pastries from the previous day. Hippie Chick followed with, “Will it come in a trash bag?” as she made a gesture like she was holding a bag.
“No!” the manager gently retorted. “We will place them in one of our baker’s boxes as we would for any other customer. We believe that the food should be displayed and served in a dignified manner. If you ever receive something from us that isn’t appropriately packaged, please let me know.” He added that the company felt very strongly about helping those less fortunate while still being respectful of them as people. However, after we left and Hippie Chick celebrated this victory of a firm commitment to receiving “their trash”, I was not so sure that she held the homeless in the same regard.
Quiet Life or Crusade
Soon, Hippie Chick turned this simple party of appreciation into an outright crusade. She basically started planning a soup kitchen that I was to run and maintain because she was leaving Newport in a couple of weeks. “You can get the local grocer to give you their trash. You can get a car and go pick up all the food. You could stockpile the food in your house. You can use it to make the soup…”
NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. That is not why I moved here. That’s not why I am moving to Newport.
Newport is my safe haven, my peace, my grounding, my get away, MY FAMILY. I didn’t come here to run all over the place, to buy a car and have to drive, to be a rebel, to prove a point. I came here to start a family. My “job” and my community work will have to respect that family space and time. Hippie Chick asked what I was doing for Thanksgiving because she was going to be spending it alone. I told her that’s the exact reason why I am seeking a new direction in my life and a new balance with my career/community pursuits. I’m tired of being alone because I’m living the cause.
I think I was feeling some of that today even before I met with her. After I left my meeting with the professional contact, I bought a sandwich and walked Cliff Walk from Memorial Boulevard to Home—the house that God “gave” me during my first trip to Newport last year. I sat there and just melted into the bench while I ate the sandwich. I actually took my time eating, savoring every bite. I was in heaven.
I remembered as I walked, I looked at those houses and said to myself well, I guess I won’t have that secluded, quiet life as I thought I would. No just writing and watching the ocean. I mean, there’s a Homeless Bill of Rights I have to get passed.
Family or Power
I think it was also telling what the community leader, with whom I had tea last week, said to me. “In this work, you’re going to be alone when you are on 20 different community boards.”
I see what God is asking me.
Choose: Family or Being the Most Connected, Most Powerful, Most Sought After person in the community. I want a family. I want peace. I want stillness. The Party in the Park is wonderful, but that’s as far as it goes. I don’t feel the need for power, recognition, or applause anymore. I’m happy being behind the scenes. I don’t need to be the most connected person. God, I just want a husband, some children, and some peace.
No Room at the Inn
Oh, before I forget, I made several calls to Victorian Lady as we planned. However, the call immediately rolled over to voice mail as if her phone were turned off. I left one message when I first called at the agreed upon time but didn’t leave any others. I suppose this means she has changed her mind.
Copyright © 2010 Sapphire Jule King and International Freedom Coalition