Chris

Several people told me I should talk with Chris. He was recently out of jail and had found his way to the back of a parking lot where people accepted him into their mix, told him how to find resources, and left him alone when he needed to sleep or just be silent.

Originally from Okene, Oklahoma, Chris, 48, said he was the middle child, but lost track since he was in foster care from the age of three. In fact he was in 16 different homes before he aged out of the system. He learned construction, especially steel work, both in prison and on the job.

He was married a couple of times - none of which he wants to talk about - and has children that “pop in and out of my life.” He didn’t feel like talking about the children either. I got the feeling he was so accustomed to moving from home to home as a child, that doing so as an adult made sense. He moved around the country as well. From Oklahoma to Arizona, to South Carolina and Oregon, then California. He liked Oregon the best, he said, “for the tranquility of the forest.” Flagstaff has seasons, so that region came in second.

He doesn’t remember a lot of dates, but one stands out. On June 17, 2016 he was shot by Los Angeles Police with bean bags. He didn’t want to talk about the circumstances. Chris spent 28 days in a hospital ICU unit. When he was released he was confined to a wheelchair due to the injuries he sustained from being hit with the bean bags. He got on a bus and found his way to Las Vegas, where he pushed himself to work on regaining physical mobility. Ever the wanderer, he made his way back to Compton, where he met someone named Tony who helped him get back on his feet literally and figuratively. He rented a room from Tony, but was soon feeling claustrophobic because even though it was a big house, there were six people living in a home built for four.

Back to relative mobility, Chris began his eastbound journey again, first to Las Vegas where he did artwork, like drawing and painting, selling those to get by. In South Carolina was in prison again for seven months on a drug charge. He said he usually ends up being arrested for either drugs, assault, burglary or DUI.

As Chris talked, the people around him turned up their music in mock combat. One played a blues mix featuring the Staples Singers and John Lee Hooker, the other played 80’s head-banger rock-n-roll. “I’m not a troublemaker,” he said, “so this group lets me stay here. They look out for me.” Looking around, he added, “They’ve got a lot of knowledge.” So he sleeps nearby in the alcove of a senior center. “My body fits right in the front door,” he said matter-of-factly.

This group has also directed him to local social workers that helped him get his SSI/SDI checks. He also has a place to get mail at the local church. At the current nightly rate of $123/month he is only able to afford staying indoors with access to a shower and privacy once or twice a month. He gets by on food from the local churches and good Samaritans dropping off food. He said he would like to put down roots, but his constant moving around “makes it easy to lose touch with people” that mean something to him. Relaying this last thought about people from his past made Chris’ mind wander. Stretched out on a colorful blanket in partial shade, Chris then rolled over and fell asleep.