My Life in Argentina and Beyond - homelessness

Homelessness--Counting the Ways

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 21:20:33 +0100

Friday, December 18, 2009: Today, on the second anniversary of my arrival back in the U.S., I want to talk about homelessness of the soul. I have had this condition (I don't know what else to call it) for several years. It has followed me everywhere, like a bad disease I couldn't get rid of. When I lost my home in GA, the homelessness became physical. It hurt in a different, more poignant and practical way. I learned what it is to go here and there, everywhere looking for help and not find it. I knew what it is not to have a safe roof over my head. I became invisible. I have remained invisible (so much against my will) ever since. I have been forced to leave a place I don't want to leave yet again.

No More!

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 21:01:00 +0100

Tuesday, November 3, 2009: I know I have to leave Williamsburgh. I know my time there is just about done. Because of the stress it is causing me, I have promised myself never ever to be in such a situation again. I would rather die first. Felling homeless is the worst!

Foreclosed!

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 19:20:02 +0200

It was a two-bedroom, 2 bath condo in Buckhead, one of the best neighborhoods in Atlanta, GA. The location could not be better—near the supermarket, some shops and Borders bookstore. But shortly after I closed, I began to suspect that something had gone wrong—terribly wrong. I started asking people and looking on the Internet. Refinancing right away carried a penalty; the same for selling the place. I have overpaid and was now in deep trouble. I knew I was going to miss the condo (it was a quiet second floor walk-up), but the financial burden of keeping it would be overwhelming. I don’t know what is more devastating or damaging than losing the home that you love. A home is a place that more than shelters you. A home lets you be you. It keeps you when no one else does or wants to. You turn to it for more than a bed, a kitchen and a shower. And when it’s gone, there is no going back. It’s not just that things can never be the same—the damage is more harmful than anything a person has ever known. Foreclosure is a bad word. No one wants to pronounce it and yet so many people, like myself, have had to say it over and over again. My home was foreclosed.

Food and the Rain

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 20:31:50 +0200

Friday, October 16, 2009:
Thursday: 5:30 P.M.
I rushed to the soup kitchen line, but there were only a few men waiting. Most were against the wall of the church on 51st. Street. The rain came down and down. I was already all wet from walking all over Manhattan.
Usually when the weather is bad, we get fed early, but this time something must have happened to delayed them. I placed myself in the line reserved for the ladies. The first lady, I thought and I smiled.
A volunteer came out and told us there’d be no food, to come back tomorrow. When he saw the look of consternation on my face, he laughed. No! I can in the rain for this? I thought. Got all wet for this?
A few minutes later, the first Coalition for the Homeless truck arrived. More waiting for the truck to be opened so that the heavy containers could be carried to the cafeteria. James, the supervisor, opened the truck and some of the men carried the stuff inside. More ladies joined the line and he told us to wait inside. I could see that we'd get a lot of food—the volunteers were setting the tables and there was plenty of everything—salads, sandwiches, bread.
The men who had helped carry the food got their share and we, the women, went to get our portion.

Heartbreak House

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 20:02:59 +0200

Friday, August 28, 2009: The soft glow of the yellow light was on the kitchen table. The woman watching TV just before she had to leave the house she had been cleaning all afternoon. This is a house, she thought to herself. It looks, feels and is a real house. Why can't I have something like this again? And then, she remembered why: the mortgage fraud/foreclosure experience in GA took away my savings and the gumption I used to have. How can I fight and keep fighting when everything is a great big NO? How can I possibly get anywhere when there is that obstacle, this other obstacle to overcome? Reluctantly, the woman took the heavy bags in her hand and closed the door. She walked with sadness in her heart to the subway stop. One more coming, one more going back. Always going back. I want to be used to these small, tiny trips back and forth, but I am not, she thought. I will never get used to them.

Black Bag Dress

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 20:31:43 +0200

Saturday, August 8, 2009: She was standing on the corner of Broadway and Havemeyer in Williamsburgh, Brooklyn--right by the bus terminal. The woman had her light hair up in a knot. She was wiping her face and neck with a small white cloth. She was wearing two or three black garbage bags, the kind the sanitation dept. uses. I called 311, but the screeching noise of the nearby subway made it difficult for me to talk to the person on the other end. Can anyone do something for her? I asked.

President Obama in Manhattan

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 18:30:00 +0200

I walked by the Waldorf Astoria Hotel on Park Avenue late yesterday afternoon and saw lots of cops and people near it. The cops were talking to passers by and the people were holding up their cell phones to take pictures. President Obama has come to town to give a speech to the NAAPC at the Hilton. I had a strange sort of thought: Wouldn’t it be great if he could stand in line with me and the other people at the soup kitchen on 51st. between Park and Lexington? He could share one of our white plastic bag meals and talk to us, listen to our stories. Maybe Mayor Bloomberg could join him and give him a tour of the church. The St. Bart’s soup kitchen is only a block away from the Waldorf. I know the NAAPC is important, but when will our turn to be seen come? We are sometimes paid a little bit of attention, but not much. Many of us have been homeless; some are still homeless, pushing carts all over town with large plastic bags full of Pepsi and Coca Cola bottles to trade for a few dollars. Even if you have been without a home for a short period of time, it’s still a bad and horrible thing to go through. The experience leaves a mark that, in many cases, cannot be erased, even if you later are lucky enough to get back on your feet.

Foreclosure Troubles

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 21:16:31 +0200

Tuesday, June 2, 2009: It is very sad to know that the foreclosure mess has no end in sight. In spite of President Obama's sincere efforts and practical help, people are still losing their homes. i know only too well how devastating that is. I know only too well how bad that makes a person feel. Fear, helplessness, shock, anger and disbelief are some of the feelings that a person experiences when the worst case scenario is about to happen.

Mortgage Fraud Hope?

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Fri, 15 May 2009 19:12:07 +0200

Friday, May 15, 2009: I still haven't lost hope that the so -called professionals who got me into my GA mortgage fraud mess will be punished. I know it's a long shot, but I I am hoping (maybe against hope) that it will actually come to pass and that justice will be done. I am just one person and maybe I don't matter because I am not famous or rich or anything, but my experience is very important to me. it has cost me many things, including the people i thought were members of my family, among other things.

Bathroom Madness in Brooklyn

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 22:55:46 +0100

Last night the Italian woman, better known as the star tenant on the 5th floor nearly lost it. I was in the bathroom doing my business and I had turned on the faucet to let her know someone was in there. But that wasn’t enough for her—she came into the bathroom without knocking when I seated on the toilet. I got angry and told her to be polite, but it didn’t help much. Then, the guy next door’s girlfriend was in the bathroom cleaning something up. The Italian woman and I were waiting outside the bathroom and she knocked on the door (something she hadn’t done for me). When the girl apologized the Italian woman told her to use Nina’s bathroom. I think the guy and his girlfriend sublet their space from one of the other tenants on the floor but the bathroom is inside the tenant’s apt.-like setting. The guy started to say something about his being a plumber and offering to make a sink in the Italian woman’s other bathroom space (the one that she uses with her friend and co-tenant). The Italian woman looked daggers and told him in a very high tone of voice that her rent had just being raised and that her bathroom usage was still restricted. I looked at the guy (who seems a very nice person) and he understood that this is a very touchy subject for the Italian woman (and I can fully understand why). I told him who he should talk to if he really wants to build this other sink. Nobody likes not to have their very own bathroom. Her actions were still very rude and if I had opened the door while she was in the bathroom, she would have filed a complaint against me.