It was a cold day. I had been on Market Street since 7AM speaking with several homeless people as they awakened from sleeping on the cold cement. About noon the streets was alive, noisy, and full of life with people from all lifestyles. You could just sense the vibrancy in the air; it was a bustling environment. I took a break, and from my seat in a coffee shop, I was gazing at humanity hurrying to unknown destinations. Something caught my eye, but I thought this is not possible. I looked again, and there was a body laid out on the sidewalk not far from me. Several objects were in my line of sight, so I was not able to get a clear view, but now I was certain it was a person. Since it was now late morning, I thought they might be sick or even worse.
As I approached, he started to rise. His young face belied his unsteady body; it was obvious he was struggling to stand. With a great deal of effort, using his crutches and a nearby newspaper kiosk, he managed to stabilize his tall body. As I made my way to him I started a conversation. His name was Graham, a handsome 25-year-old man who recently and unexpectedly found himself without a home. Graham was no stranger to the streets and had successfully made his way out of homelessness only to find himself back again after many years.
His is a painful story. From the age of four, Graham rotated in and out of the foster care system. He does not remember his biological parents, but he recalled in detail his first foster parent, Rebecca. With great fondness etched in his face and warmth in his voice, he talked about the great love he felt for this woman who cared for him and several other children. Although he was so young and spent just two and a half years with Rebecca, he remembered her vividly and with great tenderness. As he described his time with her and the love she gave him, he raised his sleeve revealing a stunning tattooed portrait of the woman he says, “was the closest I had to a mom.” “I have never been loved like that ever again.” Then there was a crack in his voice, and the lines of his face changed. “Rebecca,” he said, “died at 47 years old from a brain aneurism.” Graham recalls that she “just died on the spot. We had no warning.” Graham was only six and a half years old.
After her death, he was thrust back into the foster care system. He moved through five foster homes and was subjected to continuous sexual, physical, and emotional abuse. It was difficult for him to speak about these indignities as they brought back heartache and unsettling memories. I could hear the tension in his voice when he spoke of his experiences as a foster child and the horrific childhood he endured in these supposedly “protected” environments. Graham believes “30 percent of foster parents are good and 70 percent of them are not.” With all he had been through, I was amazed he still acknowledges there are kind and caring foster parents, “but it’s few,” he said.
When he was emancipated at the age of 18, he entered the adult film industry. His hope was to become an actor, but until then, he was able to support himself in this genre of films. Life was finally giving him some hope and a future to look forward to. He was making a living, had fallen in love, and was able to feel good about himself. When he spoke about his new love, I was able to sense how deeply he felt. There was lightness about him as when he discussed Rebecca.
Then his world crashed. Graham had diabetes and his physical condition deteriorated. While he struggled with the disease, he lost his left leg from the knee down. Then the love of his life ended their relationship after a five-year romance and asked him to leave their apartment. Unable to continue in films, he lost his job and ended up homeless and living on the street. As he lay in the hospital bed, he told me how numbness filled his body. His mind was hazy, and he could barely think. He asked himself how his life could collapse like a deck of cards so easily.
The Social Security Administration informed him he would receive a monthly disability payment of about $250.00. However, if he lost both legs he would get $1600.00. With no family and unemployed, he had nowhere to turn. In his previous line of work, there was no insurance or benefits. Soon the hospital discharged him to the streets, and he was homeless again. He said, “I was able to clean up in the hospital, but I won’t be so clean in a couple weeks.”
Memories of the unforgiving street environment swept through him, and he swirled from nausea as we spoke. He had no idea what to do for money. How was he going to make a living? The hospital refused to give him a wheel chair because it was too expensive, but they gave him the crutches he was using. It was obvious he was still adjusting to this new way of getting around.
We spoke about hope and faith. “That’s hard for me think about,” he said. “I don’t know if I will be able to sleep inside, or if I will be outside.” “I don’t know about my future.” It was less than two months since he had the surgery to remove part of his leg. He admitted he was still in shock.
It was now overcast and windy with a continuous drizzle, and the temperature was dropping quickly. Crowds of people surrounded us. They were shopping, talking, and going about their day. We said goodbye, and I wished him good luck. Graham slowly blended into the crowd as we parted. I wondered where he was going. What would become of this young man? I am haunted and distressed by the cruelty of society.
