Talking about homeless. And Palestine. And Antigona.

7/29

The police hosted a meeting at Community Board 7 with all the local faith leaders to discuss homelessness. Of course they had the DA’s office there to tell us what kind of papers to file so that we could close our steps and arrest anyone who trespassed. Sorry. Not going there. Our friends and partners from Project Reach Out who help us find housing and who know everyone who hangs out in the neighborhood were there too. And representatives from the local politicians. We shared common concerns. Like the twin sisters on my steps. And then my friend Father Duffel asked the question When is our progressive mayor going to do something about affordable housing? Bloomberg’s 55000  record homeless are now Di Blasio’s 60,000. Things kind of went silent then.

I had to leave then to go to Advent for our Palestine group. Our last meeting with my friend Elise who said farewell to Advent last Sunday. The situation among local clergy is getting harder. A new pastor at one church is working hard to bring balance where there has been a strong advocacy group. There’s an increasing emphasis on what it means to live in this neighborhood. Meaning of course a neighborhood with a large Jewish population. Our neighbor rabbis can more easily identify with the Palestinian experience than some of our more anxious clergy colleagues. We begin to plan our fall program.  Elise will be missed.

Tonight at Antigona, I’ve got a number of friends. Like my old colleague Katherine. And our old friend Feygele. And again, they are amazed. The great reviews continue to come in.

I join Martin for a beer after. He doesn’t want to stop. Doesn’t want to take a break. Soli most wants it to continue. Each day, she’s finding Antigona more. There’s a whole host of neighborhood people who will be coming back right after Labor Day who will want to see what the event of the summer of 2015 has been. I don’t have to be convinced.

7/30

There’s a service to prepare.

Tonight Katherine and I are going to see the latest play by the Representatives who most recently ran their  Lynchian pilot project Beddy Tear at West-Park.  And tomorrow I’m off to the national Presbyterian Big Tent event in Knoxville. To do a workshop on community organizing.

Quirky, beautiful diversity

11/20/13

For the first time in weeks, months? I wake up without a sense of dread. Without that feeling in my stomach that in a moment, due to a random circumstance, misunderstanding, annoyance, or deliberate stratagem, or just plain evil, all could be gone and the story brought to an end. Hard to accept. We will be here. We will be OK.

At my morning neighborhood Bible study, one of my colleagues says, It was so wonderful, at the meeting, to see West-Park in all of its quirky, beautiful, diversity. And I accept that. Because it’s true.

Cara and Stephen drop by to review last night. Stephen was responsible to make our presentation so I was worried when he wasn’t arriving and the docket was advancing ahead of schedule. He and Cara arrived just in the nick of time. My friend Mark, arriving from the United Nations, seeing us outside said, So you’ve been put in timeout already? And we laughed and went inside.

Nan, our bookkeeper, stops by to drop off a random piece of meaningless mail that came to SPSA. What she really wants to know, and is afraid to ask, because we’ve neglected to tell her and she thinks if it was good news we would have told her what happened, is exactly that. What happened? And so I tell her, We won. The vote was 59-16. We reversed it from a 38-35 September loss to a resounding win. And that is enough for her. Her usually stoic face relaxes. And she smiles. Good, she says, good.

Carman Moore comes in. He and Lotte want to bring their piece  back only this time with an  emphasis on adult survivors of child sexual abuse. And have an open discussion time, perhaps with social workers. I’m aware that we can actually schedule events for next year. And I’m going to accept that. It’s real now.

Lauren from Project Reachout arrives with Sean in their van. They’ve got anther transitional housing placement for Sean. Who’s been in and out of the hospital all week. Maybe this time it will work. She gathers all his things except for one bag. I go out. He rolls down the window. Shakes my hand. Says thanks. All the best, I say, all the best.

Katherine from Bread and Puppet comes in. I tell her the news. She smiles. Hugs me.

Anna brings Keith in. I call my friends at Westside Federation for Senior and Supportive Housing. Immediately, an alert social worker picks up on some veterans’ angles that could help Keith out. He begins to yes but me. And I tell him that is not acceptable. He’s got to make the appointment, or I’m done. And we talk about his daughter. And how he can’t let her see him like this. And I am losing patience. That’s about you, man, not her. All she wants to do is to love you. Denying her that is about you, not a kindness to her. Suck it up, let her love you, that’s what courage is, being a man is, not some stupid pride thing. Don’t call that courage.

Another dance company comes in for a tour.

RL wants to know the results. Does he have to move his stuff to 78 below? I tell him we’re OK.

David G. in to work out details for a December concert. We can do that.

It’s a normal day. And that in itself is an amazing miracle. It could have been different. Normal is a miracle. Well, maybe not exactly.

It took hard work. It took covering all the bases. Three different meetings/committees/councils to get through. Just to get back on the docket. And then dealing with machinations and strategies of opponents. Shocking surprise maneuvers. And lots of strategizing with cool headed people. Old school organizing.  Relationships.

Going to the meeting totally prepared. Ready for any surprise.  Issue introduced by two separate committees, one re. viability, the other re. finance. Then our presentation. Danielle’s video. Stephen’s power point. A dozen of our congregation standing with us. And then the committees took over. It was them defending their report, not with us defending our right to exist. And we had passed out FAQ pages answering every question. I went to the meeting without one more email to be written and sent and not one more phone call to make. And I went onto the meeting knowing I had 50 votes, if all held. 

And the proof of organizing well done? I never spoke a word the whole meeting. Everyone else carried the fight. And we controlled the debate. Everyone prepared. Still…those moments, waiting for the vote to be counted…your life passes in front of you. And when the count is announced, it feels like grace. And you just accept it.

Learnings:

1.    Do the work. Answer all the questions. Cover every base.

2.   Old school organizing. Relationships. Phone calls. E-mails. And count the votes. My mentor Philip taught me, the problem with liberals is they don’t count the votes.

3.    Pray. And get all your friends to pray. And for those who don’t pray, think good thoughts. Direct intentions. Meditate. And pray some more.

4.    Don’t do number 3 until you’ve done 1 and 2.

Time to tell RL the details.

On the edge

6/23

Walking down 86th to the door, I see Sean tucked under the scaffolding supports beside the wall again. I walk over, say, Sean, you’ve got to go...
Sure, sure, he says, just give me a minute...

I go back inside, but I can’t concentrate. Stephen comes in, ready to do business, but I keep thinking about Sean. So I call Reachout and they agree to send a team. 

I go back outside, and they’re arriving. They talk to Sean. Then come to me. He’s not going to move, they say. Then remind me that he’s a diabetic, an addict and at high risk and the heat...And then remind me that if we call 9-1-1 and he still refuses, there’s nothing to be done. Technically, he’s not breaking the law. I shake my head. Go back again, Please Sean, just help me out here...
Yeah,yeah just a minute. 

I leave. No movement. Look, Sean, if you don’t move, I’ve got to call the police. 
Just go ahead and do it, he says, just stop threatening me..

I’m not threatening you...

Just fuckin do it. Waste my time. Waste your time. Waste their fuckin time. they need to be stoppin rape,murder, what not, not dealin with some motherfucker with no feet...

So,just help me out OK?

With that he flip out starts hurling his food containers, rice flying all over the place..

Sean...I turn to go...

I don’t mean to disrespect you, but I got to piss so I’m gonna whip it out and piss all over you...

I turn and start back one more time, but Stephen and Cara stop me. Bob, take a walk, Stephen says. 

I think about it. Start to walk away. His voice rising...lots of devils and mothrfuckers flying my way. As I walk down 86th, the Outreach workers see I’m breathing heavy. Ask me what’s wrong. So I tell them. They’re going full social worker on me. 

Look, it’s hard. I want to be compassionate. Buy if he lays there with his cardboard, the neighbors call. People are too afraid to come for their dance classes.  The neighbors think we don’t respect our own property. I don’t know....

They remind me that they got him his wheel chair. Had him on his way to getting prostheses.Had him lined up for housing. Not shelter.  Real housing. But he refuses to cooperate.

I take my walk. Come back. Stephen and Cara still there.  It’s a sign of my worn state that I allowed myself to get drawn in to a fight with a man with no feet. A further sign that I find myself saying. Look, we can’t help him if he won’t help himself. He’s chasing to die and it’s killing me. OK,just not here, OK? Stephen points out that he’s gone.  And I’m sorry that I said that. I  know that he may not be even capable of making that choice to help himself. But not here.Not this way. 

I’ve made careful plans to help Christopher get housing. But while Stephen was giving a tour, he slipped out so I have to tell the housing team to cancel their visit. And I start to feel I’m losing it again. 

Martin and I look to each other for news. But there’s none. I remind him that Spain is playing Italy in the Confederation Cup semi. I need a break, so go visit Beppe and see Spain win after a valiant game by Italy on penalty kicks. 

Back again. Session meeting to work through wording on a resolution.Why so hard? Frustrating phone calls. Didn’t we talk about all this already? We’re finally done. I’m done.

Ready to leave, I see Soli in the chapel. With another woman. One of her students, a middle aged Hondurena, is with her. It’s been the last dance class of the season. The students brought champagne. They invite me to join them. And ultimately for a late, Spanish style dinner. 

When I get back to lock up, Marc is in the chapel alone, weaving long electric guitar solo line son his classic Gretsch.

Time to head home. 

Almost midnight

5/23

Stephen  and Mitchell and I move the big screen and begin to prepare the space for the Red Bull load in. 

I look up and see Jason from #ows in front of me. He’s back from Atlanta, where he’s been living. Back for an action. And fro planning a reoccupation of Zucotti. Feels like something from the ancient past, not just last year. Stephen quickly hooks him up for working the Red Bull concert while he’s in town. I share with Jason his portrait from Elizabeth Herman (http://www.transtudies.org/Photos_Herman.html#11) and those of his #ows colleagues. He’s impressed. 

I come back late in the day. Angelo’s opening was impressive. he’s got an agent who wants to take his work to a higher level. His agent used to work for wssfsh with Hugo. and is connected with a dentist and a program that uses art sales to provide free dental care for uninsured children and other like the Bowery Mission and Wssfsh. (http://www.wsfssh.org/) Yet another program birthed at West-Park. 

As the sun is fading, I listen to Dzieci in the sanctuary. Tonight in the semi-dark, I hear what sounds like Gregorian or medieval church chant filling the walls. 

Beppe drops in and we go to the Gate to review the Carman Moore concert and organic urban gardening and shamans...When we return, Stephen is playing the piano.  Marc reminds  me that the garbage  has to go out. It’s late . Who can do it? Sergeant Keith and the lost patrol to the rescue. Job finished in a blink of an eye. 

Still a moral  dilemma for me. I know from Reachout  that Keith has housing he can return to. The steps are not a solution for Keith and his platoon. Still it's not bad to have a patrol of loyal Marines at your command, even with post-Afghan PTSD.

I love this, says Beppe. A church, almost midnight. A guy playing  piano, a homeless crew of marines  hard at work. Life. I love this...

And we actually had to outlaw lynching

4/12

An empty bottle of Courvoisier Cognac and a New Webster’s Complete Dictionary. 

Teddy tells me he had difficulty getting Antonia and Wesley to move on. He was gentle, given the hospital situation. How Wesley had come in last night during our meeting and said Yo,I know you and I have had our beefs but I got to take my woman to the hospital, can we bring our stuff inside? and Teddy had taken care of him. 

I tell Teddy about my morning with Occupy Faith. Reports of the national meeting in Oakland. Would have liked to have been there. They’re serious in Oakland. Everybody’s planning something for May Day. What will we do? I hear decriptions of one event we’re invited to take part in. How can we control the message? Someone asks. You can’t, I say. Even the Messaging Work Group can’t control the message. Someone else reports promises connected with a certain action. We’re invited to provide collar cover. They come with all good intentions, I say, but you cannot be romantic. You just cannot romanticize this. Green, red, black...at best there’s communication, don’t even think about coordination...we can control our own message, maybe..the best we can do is to be a pastoral presence...I tell this story to Teddy and he agrees with me. The coop is his main commitment right now. 

I talk with the staff at Project Reachout. They had actually been behind Antonia’s hospitalization last night. They fear that she is deteriorating. And they’ve got a back story on Wesley. Longtime street guy. Actually got him housed for awhile. But apparently the man has issues. Especially with women. They became such an issue at our neighbor B’Nai Jeshurun synagogue that BJ closed off its steps. I’m not going there. But we’ve got to do something. An intervention planned for Tuesday morning.

Runi has issues to discuss. Jean has issues to discuss. Lots of internal issues. Anxieties. Runi hanging and waiting for Jane. Jane asks me what I think. I say, they’ve got to get a social worker to do a group process, soon. No one in the group can handle this...Jane nods in agreement. She hugs Runi and takes off. 

Carol, Hope’s friend comes in. Turns out she’s from Wooster, too. Graduated three years ahead of me. Wooster continues to  turn out students with a conscience and heart for a better world. Didn’t realize it when I was there, the older I get, I find Wooster folks in the best places. That is where they believe they can make a difference.

Walter Francis White

Tonight is the Times Square Playwrights’ reading of Rudy Gray’s Conversations with a Kleagle...based on the true story of Walter Francis White who used his light complexion to interview a Klan leader in Lousiana. One of only many. His work ultimately led to national anti-lynching laws. (Yes, we actually had to outlaw lynching.) Rudy Gray himself is there with us to talk about his play. What he’d learned about Walter F. White and the early days of the NAACP. Wish more pople could have been there. This play is exactly what our church, our center, is all about. One of the actors, Doug Stone, goes back to Frog & Peach days in the Balcony Theatre. I say goodnight to Rafael and head home.