The steps.
As I donned my clever yellow shirt in the middle of those steps leading to get into the Ritchie Center I felt I might have come too late. Was I in danger of not participating due to low turnout? Fortunately that was not the case, because right then I saw three large obviously donated RTD bus loads of individuals pull up to the steps. As I saw these individuals or clients, climbing into the Ritchie Center I thought to myself. I would be so embarrassed if I was in their position, and I began to wonder that if I was in their position, if I could muster the gall it must take to come to a event like this only to the know that I was going to be paired up with somebody, most likely much younger than I, to show me around like a tour guide all day. Regardless, I quickly did the math and realized that as the 16th yellow shirt from the top. I was going to be paired up with a middle-aged individual, approximately 45ish, long hair, perhaps Hispanic, with what looked to be a backpack containing every school book I had ever owned in my entire life.
“Hello Kenny”
When I get nervous, I tend to make small talk and try and be funny. This usually results in unintentionally offending someone, luckily this time it was not too bad.
We shared an affinity for black coffee.
We discussed, of all things, the weather and how despite my extended presence on this campus. I had never once entered the Ritchie Center for an event. Kenny had followed his girlfriend down here, upon her request, who is now paired up with another ‘experienced volunteer’.
Kenny’s agenda was rather limited, “I only want a haircut.” And forgive me for saying so, but boy did he need it. Realizing that I could use one too, I resolved to join him in his quest. After breakfast, we set off to lower our ears and chat about whatever other awkward topics I could muster. Kenny initially was not the talkative type. Upon arrival of our chosen destination, I realized that as number 35 and 36 on the list, and with the apparent glacier like quickness of the volunteers, we could be here awhile. So I awkwardly review the different stations available at this event and began to inquire further with my subject of the day, I come to find out that this individual does not have a job, nor any piece of identification other than the I.D. that the Department of Justice gave him while he was in prison, which Kenny quickly found out, is of limited use on “the outs”.
After inquiring with Kenny about his intent to garner employment, he informed me of a number of places with which he could acquire a day later type position, if only he had the proper credentials. Well that was enough for me. I was not about to sit in the line for two hours only to get our hair cut when we would be wasting valuable time by not acquiring such essential pieces of identification.
After three different stations we had put in motion the process of getting his birth certificate, social security card and Colorado identification card. If Kenny is anything like me, he benefits from a step-by-step checklist on how to go about and ensuring acquisition of said items. Thus I provided him with one. But why waste time gawking at college girls and waiting to be butchered when there are also stations offering legal advice and basic necessities such as food stamps and shelter coupons. Just been released from prison, he had no apparent or admitted legal problems needing to be resolved. However, we were able to obtain him a $100 voucher for food stamps that he was to receive before the end of the day. Having exhausted our most apparent options we resolved to get back into the line to get us a haircut.
My awkward moment came as they called our names, I had decided during the course of waiting to be called for the grooming process that I was not going to get a haircut. But I neglected to tell this to my client until the very last moments. Kenny was understandably shaken, because at this point we were a team, it was the Kenny and Ben show, and it was a big hit. But I cared too much about my physical appearance to take advantage of this free service. That and I didn’t want to be the only guy with a yellow t-shirt getting his haircut wasting time for everyone else. But I couldn’t bring myself to say that I didn’t want one because the people providing this service only learned what clippers were earlier today. I just made up some lame excuse, and so yes, awkward. But I had a phenomenal time, I really felt like someone’s life is just a little bit better because of me and I don’t know if he could have gotten the same kind of service from anyone else. So I would do it again in a heart beat. In parting, I will leave you with some wise words from my friend for the day:
“For some folk there is only one life they know man, life on the streets is it.”
There is a moment of profound divinity in his words, who do we think we are that can dictate how people should live their lives. Isn’t the real answer an issue of availability, isn’t our ultimate goal to be able to provide vital options for those that want them without all of the bureaucratic nonsense. How does one balance that within capitalist
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