Saturday, February 15, 2014

Not One Bit Of Sense

It doesn't make any sense...not one bit.

Like Bill...returning in his dying body and a pair of hospital pants. Bill stayed for awhile and then went right back to the hospital in an ambulance.

He is now very familiar with paramedics, EMT's and their medical procedures. And in doing so, perhaps he is now more prepared for death.

But it still doesn't make any sense.

A guy shares his demons with me...digging deep enough to drop some tears...and then he goes off and gets drunk and high with his buddies. He is handed the chance to make a positive change but he decides not to.

Go figure.

St. Vincent De Paul/The County just got a nifty $2,000 grant...specifically ear-marked for the
Warming Space. Meanwhile, the homies sit outside at the picnic table, rain or shine and wait to get into the main building.

Sometimes it snows outside, sometimes it rains and sometimes it's a mix of the two with a bit of sleet thrown in. And no matter what drops out of the sky...it always falls on us.

But none of that recent grant has been spent on an overhang above the picnic table. Nope. All we need is coverage above the table that will protect us from the elements.

But do we have it yet?

Nope.

And at this point it looks like we'll never get it.

One of the head volunteers always freaks out when warm blankets are given out on a cold or rainy day. She only seems happy if the blankets remain sealed in plastic wrap on a backroom shelf. And she doesn't want us to store our sleeping bags or our own personal blankets in that back room, at all.

No, she wants us to carry them around with us all day...everywhere we go...even when it's pouring down rain.

And that doesn't make any sense...does it?

No, not one bit.


2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Nope. No sense at all. Like when a stipend or a check goes to electronics rather than rent or housing.

Ruth Rader said...

What "electronics" are you referring to?
My phone? That phone is my lifeline, you stupid jerk. I am still on the street until the end of this month...when I will be moving into my new apartment.
I am a 58-year-old woman living on the street...and that phone could save my life.
Or are you referring to my laptop, you simpering little idiot?
My computer is a refurbished model that was given to me as a gift.
The man who fixed it up and gave it to me is aligned with the community that I live in now. And if you don't know what that means, then that's your problem.
That man also saw fit to arrange the apartment for me.
You really don't even know what's going on.
And you still haven't told me where that $2,000 grant went.
Don't send me a comment when you haven't a clue as to what the real facts are. Or you'll just make a total fool out of yourself.