Memorial Service for a Homeless Person
By Leslie Reynolds-Benns,
www.lesliereynoldsbenns.com
Out of the blue, Father Ron Thomas, my Episcopal
priest, asked me if I would like to attend a
memorial service for a homeless person.
"Can I tape it? I asked.
"What on earth for?" he countered.
"I'll tell you later."
Ron was to be picked up immediately after the
morning prayer service that was just beginning.
Since I wanted to get my tape recorder and had
walked to church that morning, I literally ran home
after the service.
"I'm writing a book about the homeless," I
hollered back to Ron, standing in the church
doorway. "Pick me up at my
apartment."
When the red Chevy mini-van arrived, I was pulling a
long black skirt over my wool tights and threw a
light parka over my shoulders. I got out to
the van and found the three new people inside all
recognized me and I them.
I had met the driver, Ed Snoddy, at Volunteers of
America, when I was there for a job interview, a few
weeks earlier. While waiting to be seen by his
boss, I chatted with Ed about the homeless
population. He does Homeless Outreach for
V.O.A, cruising Salt Lake County's streets looking
for homeless people who might need his help.
Next to me, on the seat behind Ed, was Pamela
Atkinson, a British woman who's practically a living
legend in Salt Lake City. She has worked
tirelessly for the homeless for years and is
vice-president of Intermountain Health Care's
Mission Services. Today, however, she was
dressed in jeans and a sweater. The man in the
far back seat, whose name escapes me, was an alumnus
of a workshop I had given on spirituality the
previous summer. I recognized him, when we got
out of the van. Father Ron sat in the front
seat next to Ed.
On the thirty-minute drive to the funeral location,
Pamela, excited to inform a newcomer on the plight
of the homeless, first talked about the deceased,
Chuck.
"He had a dog, called Lucy," she began.
"He loved the outdoors, so, he camped down by
the Jordan River. Chuck got sick, and then he
got sicker and sicker." She recounted her
difficulties in persuading him to be seen at a free
clinic and then at the hospital, where they did
surgery and discovered metastasized cancer.
"They treated Chuck with dignity," claimed
Pamela. "They actually kept him for three or
four weeks longer than they should have done, 'til
we could find a place for him." The
hospital has a policy that forbids discharging a
patient without a safe place to go.
"He could swear with the best of them,"
related Pamela, "But somehow or other you never
got offended. He was a good man."
"Loved to tell stories," Ed commented over
his shoulder.
"He also loved his biscuits [cookies]. We
had to take cookies out for him," continued
Pamela. "But his greatest love was for
his dog, Lucy, who slept in the sleeping bag with
him."
Pamela digressed to speak about the needs of the
homeless, some of whom stay out in the cold all
winter. The outreach workers just make sure
they have extra sleeping bags. "When it
is very cold our numbers go up in the winter
shelter," she said. "But some of
them will never, ever come inside. We just
make sure they keep warm, that they don't
freeze." The ones who are in danger of
freezing, the alcoholics like Chuck, are the most
vulnerable population. "And particularly
if they hide," said Pamela with dismay.
Most, like Chuck, stay out camping as long as they
can.
It was the cancer that got Chuck and the people at
his memorial service were all near and dear to him
and had cared for him at the end, as well as others
who were homeless workers.
Excerpted from Street People: Case Histories of
the Homeless,
www.gratitudepress.com
Dr Leslie Reynolds-Benns, PhD, author,
most recently of Confession is Good for More
than the Soul. Speaker, trainer, workshop leader,
community activist and wedding officiator.
Sign up for a FR*E*E
4-part mini e-course - CREATING YOUR OWN REALITY
- at http://www.lesliereynoldsbenns.com
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