Kelly, 63, has been homeless for about three years. She admits she didn’t have the best role models growing up, which explains a cycle of abusive marriages, having children at a young age, and falling in and out of drug addiction. But she has also been able to step back and see the big picture just in time to pull herself back from the brink - to leave a failing marriage, to find a sober living program, to associate herself with people on the street who feel safe. As she gets older, however, the physical and mental health issues associated with hard living are catching up with her. She knows how to access survival resources, but could use a place of her own at this point. In the meantime, she is quick to share a windfall of food, money, even drugs with someone else on the street whose need appears to be greater than her own.
Jenny is always stylishly dressed. She never has many belongings with her, but always has her curly haired schnauzer Gizmo trotting along beside at the end of a rope leash. She laments the short-sightedness of city government, taking away vital public showers and toilets with hand washing stations. “If Waterman Dave was still around, those water stations would still be here,” she said. Now that her husband of many years has passed away, she has to contend with being a woman alone on the street. Every time she finds a place that feels safe, the city’s Clean and Safe squad tel her to move. She has tried the O Lot and B Lot tent cities, but the rats and bugs make those sites unlivable. She would love to get a bed in the Alpha tent, or better yet, something permanent. She just had her 67th birthday and admits she’s tired of sleeping on the street. “I need permanent housing,” she said. “I don’t want to die in my car like my old man.”
Kim has two dresses. She scrubs them clean until they fall apart. She also has a gym membership and “spends forever in there cleaning.” She wishes she could do a yoga class, but her shoes are filthy and she’s too embarrassed to put her shoes on a yoga mat. Homeless for the last 15 years, Kim, 55, suffered a traumatic brain injury some 25 years ago. “I lost my respiratory therapist license because I cracked my head open on a dock doing back flips. I was an avid cyclist. I took a header. That’s when I started having narcolepsy. I couldn’t wake up.” That narcolepsy can happen at any moment and last for any length of time, after which she wakes up having been robbed and assaulted. She therefore chooses her friends carefully. “I need a home. Now, not four years from now,” she said. “I am viable, I can still work. Homelessness is a disability. Homelessness is a sin. People should be working harder to help people off the street.”
Once a month, a team of volunteer healthcare providers - professionals and student volunteers - form the Street Corner Care (SCC) outreach team, pulling carts overflowing with water, snacks, hygiene products, and socks on a meandering path towards the heart of America’s Finest City. The people they encounter need a kind words as much as any sustenance or wound care. The mission is connection, building trust, and inviting people to stop in on Sunday afternoons for a meal, clothing and more organized medical attention operated by the Ladle Fellowship at the First Presbyterian Church. The SCC has exponentially grown its volunteer force since its inception in 2017 as a response to the deadly Hep A outbreak on San Diego’s streets. While students learn an aspect of care that doesn’t come from books, the clients can always count on a year-round spirit of giving.