Billy Wade

Billy Wade, 47, shuffles through Little Italy on shoes with no laces. He’s pushing a shopping cart, headed to the bay where he hopes to stay under the radar and away from trouble. Six years homeless, he chooses to stay isolated from even other homeless, especially those that smoke or do drugs. His clear green eyes look left and right before crossing streets diagonally. He avoids downtown, hasn’t been to Balboa Park in over a year, though it’s half a mile away. He knows where all the public restrooms, water fountains and hand washing stations are.

Born in Chicago, his parents had an ugly divorce when he was three. His maternal grandmother became his legal guardian and though she was “really old-fashioned” they got along pretty well. “The only rock and roll she listened to was Elvis Presley!” he said, still flabbergasted by that.
They moved to Battle Creek, MI. when he was 13. After high school he took a job driving trucks long distance. He got tired of the weather in Michigan, so after having seen what the rest of the country has to offer, and his grandmother passed away, he moved to Tucson at age 31.

Unfortunately his company down-sized and he was laid off. He became homeless in Tucson, where the heat was punishing for those living outdoors. He hitch-hiked his way to San Diego, first sleeping in the Mission Bay Park. Cordial but reserved, Wade explains, “I come from a very poor family. Young people like to get buzzed on Friday or Saturday nights, but I couldn’t afford that much. I quit drinking 20 years ago because of pounding headaches anyway. It took a year for them to go away. Aspirin wouldn’t help.” Wade said no one in his family goes to the doctor because “if is somewhat painful, it’s gonna cost an arm and a leg. I can’t afford that.”

By way of example he pointed to his red, swollen legs. He said after so much time in the sun he got such bad sunburn his legs finally swelled and water finally began seeping out of sores. He still has red skin and some sores, but not as much swelling. Ever since that, however, he’s walked differently. He fears he might be diabetic.

“When I first came here I got handed a piece of paper with services for the homeless. People told me the area around Neil Good Day and St. Vinny’s was safe and warm in the day time, but at night, you’re not safe. You’ll get robbed.” He spent a year bouncing along from Mission Beach to Pacific Beach and O.B. where churches would feed the homeless. He doesn’t want to get an EBT card because he wants to preserve what he’s paid into social security until he’s in his 60s. “At St. Vinny’s they take your social security number and every time you have a meal there they scan your card and it comes out of social security. I want to hold on to that money till I need it,” he said.

Last year San Diego Police’s HOT team asked if he wanted to get a bed at St. Vincent de Paul; they could take him there where he could register. He said he’s heard there was lice and too much stealing there so he declined the offer.

On Christmas Eve 2016 police approached him and ran his i.d. Though he had no tickets and no criminal history of any kind, they took him to jail for five days, “for his own protection, they told me,” Wade recalls. “It was the first time I’ve been fingerprinted. The cops warned me that if people ever try to steal my social security number, then my fingerprints will help authorities figure out my correct i.d.”

Wade prefers his area around Little Italy where passersby often give him the leftovers of their giant Italian meals. He chooses places where rowdy homeless don’t go. “I’ve learned most homeless are that way because of drugs. They get arrested, a record, then no one will hire them.” Despite his efforts to isolate himself, he’s had three duffel bags, three new pairs of shoes and two pairs of pants stolen by other homeless individuals he suspects just sold his belongings for drug money. For that reason he hasn’t even tried to buy a phone, though he would like one, even though he doesn’t stay in touch with family members and has no friends from his past.

“The thing is, I wish my life was different but you know, it could be worse,” he said.