Living nowhere
Friday, March 27, 2009
![]() Click here to enlarge this photo Staff photo by DARWIN WEIGEL
Project ECHO shelter manager Lori Hony, left, and one of the current residents Deb Lancaster stand in front the Prince Frederick homeless shelter. The shelter currently holds 24 people, but a new building under construction will nearly double that capacity.
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Debra Lancaster said she can recognize other homeless people by the vacant look in their eyes.
"It comes from desperation and hopelessness," she said.
Wearing a short-sleeved pink sweater as she sits at a kitchen table, Lancaster, 55, looks like the next-door neighbor she was just a few months ago.
Now, she's living in a homeless shelter, and although she's consistently "pounding the pavement" and submitting job applications, she can't find employment. And she's worried about how much worse it may get.
As they work to get back on their feet, Lancaster and other residents at area shelters express similar concerns about the shrinking economy. The scarcity of jobs, increasing food prices and decreasing donations to charity are just a few of the things on their minds as companies announce massive layoffs and the stock market continues to dip. And while these factors cause stress and discomfort to most everyone, they're taking the region's homeless that much closer to the edge.
There's nowhere
to go but up'
Lancaster said her last job was at a family grocery store, where she worked 5 years in the deli. When her partner discovered that he had cancer, she left her job to stay home and care for him.
"It got to the point where I had to feed him," she said.
After he died in September of last year, Lancaster discovered her partner hadn't been paying the full rent on the home they shared. Faced with joblessness and $3,000 in back rent, Lancaster had to leave her home. She at first stayed with neighbors, but after that, she didn't know where to go.
"I didn't want to be a burden on anyone," she said.
So she began to live at Project ECHO, a shelter in Prince Frederick. She said this wasn't where she'd expected to end up, but when she arrived, she thought "there's nowhere to go but up."
Lancaster tried to get her old job back, but the grocery store wasn't hiring. Neither was anyone else, it seemed.
"I've put in so many job applications," she said. "I'll take anywhere."
But at this point, Lancaster doesn't have much time left. The shelter accommodates people for 90 days at a time, and Lancaster has been staying there for more than two months already.
"I always thought there were plenty of jobs around here," she said. Now, she doesn't know where she'll find one.
However, she's finding companionship in other people at the shelter.
"Every person has a different story of how they got here … But you catch yourself bonding with people in your residence. A lot of things are the same in our lives," she said.
Sometimes I give up'
The feeling of shock at ending up homeless seems to be shared by Lancaster and Darrell Jones, a homeless man who sought refuge at Three Oaks Center in Lexington Park. Earlier this month, Jones showed up at the shelter, backpack slung over his shoulder, but the home could only offer him a one-night stay, he said.
Formerly a maintenance worker at a Hampton Inn, Jones, 30, said he was fired and hasn't been able to find work since. While it may once have been difficult to find a high-paying job in his situation, Jones said it is now seemingly impossible.
"Salary is like $7 an hour, so I can't afford the apartment," said Jones, adding that he turns to alcohol when he gets discouraged about not being able to find a good job. Jones, who came to America from the Philippines in 1998, said he recently got out of jail and believes he's ruined his own chance at success in the United States.
"I tried to go to America and get rich," he said. "I can't blame America. I blame myself, but now, I need a place to stay."
Jones said he doesn't know where he's going to go after his one night at Three Oaks is up.
"I don't know. Maybe think of drinking again. Maybe I'm sick and I'll get worse," he said.
At this point, Jones said he doesn't hold out much hope for his own future. He said that he dreams of a $12-an-hour job and a simple life with plenty of food and affordable housing. "Sometimes I'm so tired. Sometimes I don't know what I'm gonna do. Sometimes I give up," he said.
It's a
trickle-down effect'
Many of those $12-an-hour jobs are now being filled by workers who have been laid off from higher-paying positions, according to Dana Harty, a LifeStyles program director. He coordinates a program called Safe Nights, in which area churches open up to the homeless and provide a shelter from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m., food and transportation.
Harty said it's hard for some of his clients to find jobs in the current economy when more-skilled workers are competing for the same positions.
"When you have folks who have graduated from college and can't find a job, when they apply for jobs at Burger King and McDonalds, it's a trickle-down effect," he said.
A greater number of people have been coming to Safe Nights recently, Harty said, including some individuals he's never seen before.
"We see more and more folks coming in; not so much repeat clients but new clients. There was one lady who lost her job last July, and she'd been in her field for 18 years … Money's hard to come by," he said.
It's hard to come by for Safe Nights, as well as for its clients, and Harty said that the program has "been working on a shoestring" for the last two years.
I know what it's like to have a good life'
Lisa Bryant, another resident at Project ECHO, said she's worried about the direction the economy is headed, mentioning the increasing price of commodities as one of her concerns. A mother of four adult children and a 9-year-old son, Bryant, 45, said she's bipolar, a condition that has prevented her from working a steady job. She gets some money in child support from her son's father, but it's not enough to pay for her living expenses.
Life in the shelter isn't bad, though, Bryant said. She's provided with food and lodging, and the residents at the home generally get along. Still, she said she feels this is like a different life when compared to her younger years. She's experienced being well-to-do, and said she wishes that more people realized how close they are to being in her shoes.
"I know what it's like to have a good life," she said. "People need to know this can happen to them. No one's untouchable … There's people that will look down their nose at you, but people forget they could be a paycheck from being here."
She applied for help from the government 2 years ago, but her paperwork is still being processed.
"So my case is due to come up any time, and God willing, it will," she said.
And what happens if her time at Project ECHO runs out before her paperwork is processed?
"I don't know. I'm afraid I'm gonna find out. You go to bed with that," she said
Bryant said that there's a list on the wall of Project ECHO showing how many days each resident has before their time at the shelter is up. As the weeks go by and more and more days are checked off the list, Bryant says she feels increasingly concerned. She tries to use her worry in a positive way, to motivate herself to push through her application for government help.
However, she doesn't hold out much hope for the economy to improve.
And in Bryant's situation, even small price hikes can mean a lot.
She said the increasing price of groceries has hit her hard, saying the food stamps "never stretch." Her son's school pictures are now more expensive, and although she doesn't want her child to feel deprived, she said it's only getting harder.
"And I fear that it's going to get worse. What are we gonna do if it gets worse?" she said softly.








