1 / 24
Read as text
Page 2
Speak Up Magazine gives a voice to the streets—it is written
by and about those who have experienced homelessness.
It is sold by vulnerably-housed street vendors who become
micro-business owners, develop a passion for inspired
entrepreneurship and get back on their feet financially.
Matt Shaw
Editor In Chief
Maria Valdivieso
Art Director
Illustrator
Hayley McCord
Editorial Team
Hayley Pierpont, Leah Burnett, Peggi Knowe, Nate Casey
Speak Up Magazine
501 Hawthorne Ln,
Charlotte, NC 28204
Ph: 704 – 980 – 9885
For additional information about the production of this magazine, including design notes,
printing details, photo and illustrations credits, visit speakupmag.org/perspective. We’d
love to hear your feedback: magazine@speakupmag.org.
Speak Up Magazine is a 501(c)3 non-profit and is supported by donations of
readers such as yourself. To donate, visit speakupmag.org.
2
Page 4
MY DAY TO DAY
SW by Mark Gansert
Day four after being released from federal a broken zipper, a stained white cotton polo-
custody. I am under a bridge next to the Miami style shirt, and a now dirty black t-shirt which is
River on a walkway that borders it. Many other wildly inappropriate for my job search.
homeless call this home.
President Obama signed into effect something
It seems rightfully unfair that I am risking called the Second Chance Act, part of which is
having my probation violated by being to be used to help ex-offenders in an attempt
homeless. According to their own rules, to reduce recidivism. As of right now, staring
they are supposed to have placed me into into the wake of passing motorboats filled with
a halfway house to allow me time to get revelers on this Saturday night, I wonder with
on my feet. Alas, this is not the case. They fear in my heart, can I keep this tenuous grasp
feebly attempted to place me into the Miami on freedom? Will I have my “Second Chance”?
homeless shelter system which is beyond Being homeless is not an easy thing. Being
overwhelmed and has a waiting list that is homeless with federal probation on top of it is
months and months long. unbearable. Please help me.
As per the conditions of my probation and Mark Patrick Gansert, Miami, Florida
keeping them, finding employment while Under a bridge and frightened
being on the streets is a serious challenge.
Just how will I maintain this versus the looming __
threat of an even longer incarceration? I am
very stressed that the rigors of an “on the That unsettling feeling has struck again. The
streets” kind of homelessness, combined with feeling of abject loneliness as I lie once again
the inability to follow my probation conditions, under the drawbridge abutment.
is weighing so heavily upon my shoulders. I do
not wish to return to prison. Who in their right I think back to just a mere ten months ago. I
mind would? was comfortable and safe in my apartment.
I had a job, a dog, a car, a sweet loving
I pray for some kind of miracle. That some girlfriend, and everything was normal. I felt like
door or window of opportunity will avail itself I could hold my head high again, unashamed
unto me. I have applied for employment of the taint of homelessness.
through the computers at the library. Yet this
in itself is not enough. The job search is made Now look at me…lying on a cheap, green
even more difficult by the fact that I currently sleeping bag with a blue plastic tarp under
own one pair of prison-issue blue jeans with it. Back to eating in the soup kitchens and
4
Page 6
the Miami Rescue Mission. Lining up to take themselves. “Gee I hope a house falls out the
a shower at a homeless shelter. Arguing with sky from the homeless fairy,” said no sane
frustrated fellow homeless people, now in person ever.
charge of doling out donated clothes over
a pair of khaki cargo shorts that are missing I don’t want to sound bitter, even though I
the button to fasten the waist. Listening to feel bitter. I can’t hide my feelings through
former homeless pastors preach unto deaf my words. Resentment filters into me like a
ears; telling horror stories about their special burning hatred which I cannot seem to rid
crack-addicted Christianity. No one on our side myself of.
of the fence is impressed with a crack addict
turned preacher. Whether I am lonely, frightened, angry,
embittered, or just tired, you can find me
I avoid everyone. I talk to no one at length. under this drawbridge. You can find me
I’ve learned that nine times out of ten, that however you want. You won’t find me
guy sitting next to me in the soup line is a hopeless.
douchebag. I’d like to give some of them the
benefit of the doubt; yet in another bout of ___
homelessness, my overwhelming urge is to
use my fellow man as cannon fodder to better Sometimes it’s hard to see the beauty around
my own place in the concrete jungle of which you when you’re living on the streets. Miami
I was rudely thrown. It is sheer survival of the for all it’s ugliness is quite a beautiful city.
fittest.
It is a homeless Mecca. The year-round
Am I so wrong with these thoughts? Even with mild weather lends itself to the throngs of
these thoughts in the soup line, I bandaged homeless. I’ve met people on the streets of
a man’s foot with my own limited medical Miami from Michigan, Alaska, Maine, and
supplies. I can’t let them suffer even if I other points south.
despise most of them.
As I write this, I look out unto Biscayne Bay
Now as the sun begins to set, a chill begins with the high-rise condominiums of Miami
to settle into me. The wind whips through Beach two miles in the distance. It is a bright,
the abutment. Another night under the sunny day with only puffy cotton ball clouds
drawbridge. dotting the otherwise blue sky. I sit upon a
concrete picnic table and watch the people
I hope the things I’ve been doing to alleviate walk their dogs. It make me feel sad as I had to
my current situation pan out. It’s really my only give up my dog ten months ago.
hope that I alone will pull myself out of this
situation. I’ve never met a former homeless I also see my fellow homeless, some sleeping
person who’s said, “Yeah, someone said to off the nights drunk or on drugs, others
me ‘let me get you off the street.’” It’s always sunning themselves. All of them in this
someone who is willing to end the cycle particular park await the evening meal from
6
Page 7
the Miami Rescue Mission which is five blocks of his forearm made him drop the club with a
away. shriek of pain.
I had to move away from the drawbridge. Early I went animalistic, screaming primally, chasing
one morning, I was attacked by a couple of him down the sidewalk with the club in my
young thugs. They were trying to relieve me hands. The other homeless awoke watching
of my backpack. After a brief struggle and me chase the man for blocks. He ran into an
a particularly violent Aikido throw to one of abandoned building site and picked up two
my attackers, they retreated to lick their new large hunks of concrete. Coming to my senses,
wounds. My stress levels reached new heights I ran to the nearby transit station and dialed
after this unprovoked attack. the police.
Soon I’d began noticing black eyes and When my attacker saw the groups of people all
other hallmarks of street fights upon other dialing 911 because he had started chucking
homeless white males. It turns out that with a the hunks of concrete wildly at me and the
little indirect questioning, it seems that these other people in the station, he ran away again.
individuals have been targeting based on I told the 911 operator that I wasn’t waiting for
race. What makes it worse is that I see these the police and to let the people in the station
cowards everyday in the line for the shower. tell them what happened.
They now cut a wide swath around me, all
while giving me the evil eye. Another night’s sleep ruined. Now my stress
level was at the red line. I wandered up
I moved from the drawbridge to the on-ramp unto the Metromover Station sidewalk saw
of the MacArthur Causeway. A long concrete an empty bench and laid down again. Not
wall stretches the length of the Museum Park sleeping, but fuming.
Metromover Station. A few other homeless
sleep here. It is very loud as the hipster kids The next day, the other men who sleep under
ride their crotch rocket motorcycles which all the Metromover platform (with the security
seem to be lacking mufflers. The Lamborghinis guards’ tacit approval), Sam, the giant Virgin
and Ferraris also blast onto the causeway Islander and Carlos, the deaf Honduran,
toward the trendy nightclubs and swanky invited me with open arms to sleep under the
beach condos three miles away. platform. It was an offer that I couldn’t refuse.
We have to vacate the area at or before 5 a.m.
I’d slept here two nights until I was attacked It is well lit and comes with security cameras.
again. This time, it was a mentally-ill male
with a weighted club. His feet shuffling near We joke that it is our homeless condo. We
me awoke me with a jolt. I swung my feet hope for the best. Carlos is getting an implant
out at his legs. I caught him in the shin. He for his hearing, and Sam is getting his knee
cried out while swinging the club at me wildly. rebuilt soon. I hope they get off these streets.
I launched up unto my feet catching the They are the few shining lights in this city of
wrongly-wielded club. A strike to the mound beautiful ugliness.
7
Page 8
HOPE
WITHOUT
by Chef Matt Warren SW A HOME
8
Page 9
What is hope from a homeless person’s It’s tough on the street. Especially if your
perspective? mental capacity is shot to hell (literally).
I hope I get some money. My body has taken a lot of abuse over the
I hope I get some food. years, and I haven’t learned to rest well or take
I hope I get some clothes. good care of my body. I am trying to change
I hope some one talks to me. that now. I live in Chicago, but I came back
I hope someone sees passed the outer me and to Charlotte just in case I had to have hernia
sees that I’m not much different than them. surgery and so I could stay with family. My
goals are to get healthy, rest a bit, and then go
The stereotype is that the homeless only want back up north. I’m a little scared if you want
drugs and alcohol; but just like those who the truth. I don’t know what taking care of
have homes and jobs, they also hope for a myself looks like. I’m not sure I know what rest
brighter tomorrow. We overlook the fact that is. I hope I can make it.
“homeless people” are people first. You will never know the world the homeless
My hope is that one day we will not see live in unless you go there. You will never see
people living on the street. I was a pastor to them as people unless you listen to them. You
homeless people, and now I am homeless may walk by them thinking they’re a hopeless
myself. In the beginning it was choice to help cause. Most of the men and women on the
me relate to them, but four years later, I’m just streets are some of the most hopeful people
another homeless guy. When people out here I’ve ever met. Why? Because hope is all they
say they can’t move up in the world…I believe have.
them. It’s not as easy for a homeless man or
woman to just up and get a job. We’ve heard
the stories of people overcoming the odds,
but reading about their struggles to overcome
and living the struggle are two different things.
9
Page 10
THE REAL STORY
by Bill Shaw
Some say I work with those experiencing “Fifty.”
homelessness. That is not true. I do not do I get fifty magazines.
that. I am on the backside where papers “I will pay you tomorrow.” He says, but I
are pushed and thoughts are gathered and know I won’t see the money tomorrow or
tossed about, changes made, a magazine put maybe ever.
together. I am not too interested in the human “You shouldn’t be driving,” and I hand him
part. The human part is too conflicting, too the magazines.
stressful. “Just going to Veterans Park.”
My friend, I will call him my friend, came over “Ok, and I let him go relieved, because I
late one night. He parked his van on the street do not want to consider the alternative? The
and turned the music up. He turned it up, so alternative is to do what I don’t want to do, get
I in my 7th street home could hear it. I didn’t too close, be too human. My friend has been
want to hear it. I wanted to sleep. But he left over before. We watched a football game
it up and eventually I went out in my pajamas on my TV and he spilled chili and crackers
and said. everywhere. On the couch, on the floor, it
“Friend, what’s up?” I did not ask this in a dribbled from his mouth and he smelled. Yeah
pleased way. he smelled. When he used the toilet, there was
“I need magazines,” He said, “And the store hair everywhere, long, white, and dirty. I didn’t
doesn’t open till 10:00 a.m. tomorrow. like it.
I have magazines. My basement is full of So I let him drive away, and I won’t collect
magazines, every issue that we have ever the twenty dollars for the magazines either.
published, except one or two. But I really don’t I don’t work with people in transition. I just
want my home to be connected in this way, my help publish a magazine. That’s the real story.
neighbors to see an old van and loud music, But it isn’t the end of the story. I don’t know
and a man who lives in it, buying magazines the end. Maybe someday my friend’s van will
from me at midnight. be parked in my drive, with bags of his trash
“Have you been drinking?” I ask this in a packed around it like skirting on a mobile
non-accusing way, because it smells like he has home.
been drinking. But I find this highly unlikely. For that to
“Yes,” He says and hangs his head. Which happen I must decrease and Jesus—or His
makes me feel bad for asking and also feel representative—must increase, and that rarely
concerned for asking, because what do I do happens anymore.
now, let him drive, or let him stay, but where?
“Ok, how many do you want?”
10
Page 12
TRAVELING LIGHTER
by Hayley Pierpont
The first thing that you notice about Velda suggested gastric bypass surgery. He handed
Harper is her voice. It’s smooth, clear, and Velda the paperwork about the procedure,
before you know it, you have taken comfort in paperwork which she intended to discard as
its tone. That same voice had called earlier in soon as she left the hospital. But she didn’t
the afternoon and declared over the receiver throw the paperwork away. Several years later,
that it had a story to tell. Velda’s voice – and Velda underwent the recommended gastric
story – speaks volumes in more way than one. bypass surgery, an operation that seemed
In 2005, Velda was informed by her physician to be successful, until an intestinal blockage
that, due to complications with her weight, complicated her recovery.
her hip cartilage had deteriorated rapidly. “It was like a downward spiral from then,”
Velda recalls.
“I was morbidly obese back then – nearly
400 pounds,” she explains. Her physician Not long after, Velda’s trial with her health
12
Page 13
began to present issues at work and she was had no place that was my own. I had always
dismissed. Velda, who had bought a condo lived my life in the role of ‘giver.’ To be in the
earlier that year, was also experiencing water reverse role was something that I found very
leakages in her home and, as a consequence, difficult.”
her funds as well. After the Home Owner’s
Association seized her condo, Velda soon Many times, Velda grappled with the
found herself going from friend’s house to confusion and instability that came with her
friend’s house to live. circumstances. Her faith, she says, helped her
to endure in the times when she did not feel
“I think the moment that I truly realized I was as if she could manage any longer. “So many
homeless was after I had just gotten out of people take the negative in their lives and
the hospital after another complication, and wear it like a stone until it sinks them to the
realized, suddenly, I had no place to go – I bottom. I just tried to keep my head above
13
Page 14
the water, and prayed for God to guide me other women, and takes pleasure in feeling
through,” she says. that she has a supportive role in the house.
“I’ve realized over the years that my calling
Velda tried to reclaim the condo that she had from God is to be of help to people, to love
previously owned, but discovered through a people, and now I just want to do that in
neighbor that parts of it had been gutted due a way that honors God.” Before her health
to severe water damage. Velda tried to strike issues had resurfaced, Velda was a registered
a deal with the Home Owner’s Association in group therapy leader and had created her
order to correct this mistake, but was declined; own program for those who where living
and Velda refused to reclaim the property with the struggles that sometimes arise from
based on the fact that the property was gastric bypass surgery. Now with her situation
severely altered from the way she originally more secure, Velda is working to revamp the
purchased it. With the hope of reclaiming her program into “Get Real from the Inside Out”,
former home dashed, Velda found fortunate one that offers exercises in healthy living and
in the acquaintanceship of Ava Roseboro, the tips on how to better achieve the balanced
founder of Expected End Ministries. Having diet that many gastric bypass recipients are
been introduced through a mutual friend, encouraged to maintain.
the two women enjoyed an afternoon of
conversation during a fundraising benefit and She explains, “Being able to feed people is
exchanged information. “When I first met a great joy for me, and it’s something in life
Ava,” Velda recalls, “I didn’t think anything that I’ve always done. I love to cook and I’m
would really come of our encounter. But she pretty good at it, too. Having gone through
called me not long after and insisted that she the process of having to cope with the side
felt we were connected in some way. No one effects of the surgery myself, I’m hoping to
truly knew the severity of my situation back take my skills and apply them in a way that is
then, and I was hesitant to share my story with beneficial to those who are going through that
her. It’s difficult sometimes to tell finally say same process. I’m hoping to turn this into my
out loud to someone what has happened to life’s work.” Some days, Velda still struggles
you; and for most of us I think we carry with with the effects of her surgery and has difficulty
us these feelings of shame.” But Ava kept moving due to the lack of cartilage in her hip,
calling. Finally, Velda diverged some of the but she is optimistic about the future.
details of her situation, which eventually led “Its been a long journey, but I can kind of see
to Ava offering Velda a home at the program’s the light at the end of the tunnel, you know?
Christian-based transitional house. This I have gained a profound awareness of what
serendipitous act of kindness gave Velda the it is like to not have a place to call home. I
stability she had lacked for so long, and she was fortunate in the fact that I’ve never had to
soon found herself thriving in her new living sleep in the streets, but I know very well now
environment. about the kind of life that comes out of being
homeless, and I feel everyone should gain an
Velda is now the spiritual leader at the understanding of this as well.”
transitional house, which she shares with four
14
Page 15
Velda’s story shows that the face of kind of resilience and humility that deepens
homelessness is not just the faces one sees identity and forges new paths. “So much of
under bridges or in shelters, but in our the bad that happened to me has brought
everyday life. The person behind you in the me closer to God, and I think I am better for
grocery store, or beside you in traffic. Sadly, it.” Velda’s new direction in life is moving her
this is a reality all across the country, be it a toward her God, to a permanent home, and to
hard one to look squarely in the eye. But more a new reality.
than that, Velda’s story and person radiates the
15
Page 16
by Matt Shaw
Sometimes one American cent goes further tap, tap, tap, like a psycho from a slasher
than a $100 bill. It is that way for Julia, who movie, tap, tap, tap. He wants to come in, or
calls the coins that she finds “pennies from he wants her to come out. She doesn’t open
God.” the door for him, because by this time he’s had
a dozen beers. He’s hit her and she’s terrified
She lives in a storage room in an industrial of him. She won’t report the abuse, because
warehouse owned by an old friend. Her she doesn’t want to jeopardize her place. The
storage room—a big closet really—has a door heavy metal door keeps him out.
that locks, and over the years she has retreated
there often to escape domestic abuse, eviction Even with the door locked, she isn’t safe from
and living on the streets. She is there now and his words.
has been for a year. She has tried to turn her
closet into a home. Sometimes she calls it that, “You’re an ugly old hag,” he calls through the
“home,” but then catches herself and says, “It door, tapping on it relentlessly, “Open up — no
isn’t a home, it’s just a little room.” In it, she one loves you anyway, you old hag.” When
has a dry place to sleep at night and a sense she talks about this later, her body is wracked
of safety. There is a small heater, a mini-fridge, with deep sobs and she says, “It’s true, I am
and microwave and a bed on the floor. old and ugly, no one wants to be around me.”
(Actually the truth is, she’s charismatic and
Most nights of the week, when she’s safely beautiful. On the verge of sixty and with a
ensconced in her room, one of the older careworn face, her blonde hair, deep blue eyes
warehouse workers lets himself into the and prominent cheekbones reveal timeless
building to harass her. He knocks on her door, beauty that hardship will never extinguish.)
16
Page 17
She’s been abused, in every way, since
girlhood. The nightly rages from beyond the From morning to evening, it carries her
door are normal to Julia. essentials – money, medication, extra clothes,
the copies of Speak Up magazine that she
She huddles on her bed on the far side of the sells – her rolling closet, medicine chest and
room, looking past her piled suitcases and resupply store.
stuffed animals. As pain starts to overtake
her heart, and dark clouds move across her “The ones with inline skate wheels are the
mind, she clenches her fists with rage and fear. only ones that work. I drag it over gravel and
“Am I ever going to get away from this?” She concrete and grass. The ones from Walmart
wonders. just break apart.” She has her eye on new one,
a good one, a really good one, that costs over
Her eyes flicker back and forth across the $150.
room, seeing, lingering on, then fixated at a
gallon size plastic zipper bag in the corner. And as she’s trundling along, dragging her old
Like her, the bag is tired and careworn. bag, wondering if she’ll get a new one, there
Like her, it has been kicked around and she sees it — glinting up from the edge of the
mishandled. Like her, it contains hope and sidewalk, a shiny copper penny — a promise
promise. Julia smiles. She scuttles over and to her unsaid prayer, yes, she will get that bag
picks up it up gently, it is full of pennies— she’s been dreaming about.
brown and worn, coppery gold, new and crisp,
jagged and worn. For now, Frankie’s pounding She sells Speak Up Magazine to earn money
on the door is muted, and her ears retune to for herself, but is constantly looking for a job
a divine music. “My pennies from God,” she with a more regular rhythm of income. Selling
says. “I have found hundreds through the the magazine is fine, but it also leaves her
years.” unprotected to harassment. In the process
of selling the magazine every weekday, she’s
“Whenever I need help, when I’m sad, and I been cursed at, insulted and threatened. “If
need to know God is with me, he gives me a you don’t leave this spot, we’re going to beat
penny. Sometimes I don’t see one, so I ask, you to a pulp,” a trio of crack addicts told her
‘Jesus, where are my pennies? And then I’ll a few months ago. So she moved a few blocks,
look down and there one is.” head and spirits sagging, just wanting some
peace, praying for things to get better.
In the morning she wakes up and takes the bus Then she saw it. Wedged in the sidewalk crack:
to the YMCA for her daily shower, which makes a penny. She picked it up, knowing something
her “feeling like a real person.” Everything she good was going to happen now. Later that day
needs for the day goes into a ratty floral print the addicts came back and told her they were
rolling backpack. It is ripped and scuffed but sorry. Now they watch out for her. Just last
it will work until she can get a new one. It has week she was trying to convince one of them
sturdy wheels and a mostly working extendible to quit drugs and come sell magazines and get
handle. his life back together. “Julia, that sounds like
17
Page 18
something I can do. I can do that. I am going viciously. She cries as she remembers when
to do that. I can do that.” he kept repeating it, her teenage son was invited to her sister’s
trying to persuade himself. house for holidays but she was not. Even after
the son was already there, they called and
The men in her life have mostly been bad. Her asked her to come by, and then met her on
husbands, there were more than one, were the porch. She could see the holiday party
drunks or abusers. When she was married to happening behind them through the open
the fireman, he would beat and hit her until door—the decorated tree, Christmas sweaters,
the neighbors called the police. When they the rich smell of the honey ham. “We wanted
showed up, the fireman would stand on the to tell you face-to-face that your son can
porch with his buddies and they’d laugh and stay here as long as he wants but you aren’t
joke together for awhile. Julia would cower welcome in this house. You’re a worthless
inside. Finally one day she ran away – ran out drunk. Just worthless.”
of the house and never returned.
That was twenty years ago. Huge tears pour
“Me and Jesus were real close when I was a down her face as she talks about it today.
teenager, then I turned away from him, but “Why did they say that to me? How could
now I’ve gone back to him because he is they?” She pauses and closes her eyes and
the only one I’ve got,” she says. “If I see my takes a breath, her penny pocketbook clutched
pennies, I know the Lord is with me because in her hands. “But I know I need to forgive
when I am afraid that’s how he says, ‘Yes, Julia, them. I did forgive them. I looked on the
here I am.’” internet about how to forgive and read in the
Bible all about forgiveness. God forgives me
For the last couple years, she’s been finding so now I forgive them.”
the pennies. During the day, she puts them in
her pocketbook. At night, she empties them But then she’s alone, waiting alone for a bus,
out into the bag in the storage room. dragging her backpack down an alley, and
the darkness sweeps back in. She hears the
During one of Julia’s hardest winters, when her curses and insults, she relives the abuse, it all
son was younger, her siblings turned on her swells together and threatens to overwhelm
18
Page 19
her. Worst are her memories of the uncles, the
ones that did those things to her when she was There upon the sidewalk, a little copper
a girl. They died years ago and she can’t ask promise, an invitation to forgiveness, a whisper
them why they choose her, she can’t confront from the divine, her assurance of redemption.
them, she isn’t sure she can ever forgive She stops to pick it up, a lone penny. As she
them. Those are the worst moments, when does, that quiet little voice within, a truer voice
everything is black and hope is hard to see. than all the others, the truest voice ever known,
The homelessness, the broken backpack, the grows louder and assures her—and she knows
hundreds of inconveniences of being on the it with absolute certainty, as if her life depends
streets, the decades of abuse and rejection all on it, because it does—that everything will get
conspire to steal her hope, and undermine her better. The best is yet to come. All that was
will to move forward, to rob her desire to take lost will be restored, promises will be fulfilled,
another step—to take another breath. forgiveness will prevail, and her eternal family
awaits in heavenly courts, where the penny-
And in that moment, of accumulated agony dotted alleys give way to streets paved in gold.
and invisible desperation, she sees it.
19
Page 20
The Other Side
by Bill McIlmail SW
On the other side of town,
where stones cry out from
the blisters they have caused.
Not uptown, but the other side,
where they fly the signs, night
and day.
Not downtown, no, the other side,
where houses made of cards have all
fallen down.
The underside of town
where “good” folks drive
right by Jesus
standing on the side.
The darker side where demons dance
Under dim streetlights, and in
People’s minds.
The other side, the side
where no one chooses to sleep
upon the cold, hard ground.
20
Page 21
Pennies on the Ground
by “Julia” SW
To all that drop their pennies on the ground,
There is someone who will find them all around,
It is a faith, a feeling, so free,
To find a pile of dirty brown beat up pitiful pennies just for me.
I ask the lord to help me see, them every day and there they
are all along my way,
It is a wonderful feeling to know, those pennies, God’s love he
does show.
21
Page 22
CONTRIBUTORS
Matt Shaw Bill Shaw Bill McIlmail Hayley Pierpont
SW
Matt Warren Mark Gansert Haley McCord Maria Valdivieso
SW SW
SW Street Writer = Has experienced homelessness
22
Page 23
JOBS WORDS SEARCH
S J U O Y X L N A I X A C T O R M B T F
D S H D J I M A U C B A P Y M A U E S A
Z P E Z R U L A R T C Z M D P C S E K R
M T H L L A D A T C R O R D U X I K D M
O U E Y E Y F G O H H I U C F L C E C E
E O V A S C S T E K E E T N U G I E F R
Z D C J C I T U E X I M O I T O A P A D
L O Z E I H C R V R P N A L O A N E R E
P I O A A D E A I I M D A T O N N R T S
R Y B L N N H R L C C Q Z D I G I T I I
B W Z R O N O R F T I U Q X O C I S S G
K C L L A G O G H P H A R M A C I S T N
K I P E P R I U R C U E N J I J T A T E
T J K O H P I S N A H Z R Y D V H O N R
N U R S E S B A T C P E O A F Z E S R D
K U Y Z E A P I N K E H M B P O W Y G V
U C I O I M W R I T E R E I Z I J W F D
N S O C I A L W O R K E R R S G S O J T
R N J O U R N A L I S T R P G T N T X F
T C A R P E N T E R A R C H I T E C T T
MATHEMATICIAN ACTOR ARCHEOLOGIST CHEMIST
ELECTRICIAN DRAFTER MUSICIAN CARPENTER
PHYSICALTHERAPIST ARTIST JOURNALIST JUDGE
FARMER ANNOUNCER SOCIALWORKER ZOOLOGIST
LIBRARIAN ACCOUNTANT DOCTOR
OCEANOGRAPHER WRITER NUTRITIONIST
TEACHER NURSE BEEKEEPER
PHARMACIST ARCHITECT DESIGNER
23