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Volume 2 | Issue 7 | $2.00

TRANSFORMING LIVES
CHANGING PERSPECTIVES

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VENDOR
PROGRAM

Frequently
Asked
Questions

What is a Speak Up vendor?

“Vendor” is the title for the hard-working individuals who distribute Speak Up. Most likely,
they are experiencing homelessness or are vulnerably housed. Your purchase of this magazine
is part of their journey out of poverty. You can learn more at speakupmag.org/vendors.
How does someone become a vendor?

1. Sign up for & come to an interview
3. Attend the training day
4. Sign the Code of Conduct
5. Get 20 free Zines and temporary badge
6. Reinvest and attend weekly meetings Look for a valid Speak Up badge

What if I give money but don’t take the magazine?

Always take the magazine. This individual is working hard, please don’t make them take a
hand out. Feel free to tip, but always take the product. This gives dignity, not just money.

But I don’t have any cash!

A few smartphone-equipped vendors can accept a credit card payment. For now, the best
option is to plan ahead and bring cash.
How can I help?
Donate at speakupmag.org/donate and volunteer.

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“Speak Up for those who cannot speak for
themselves, for the rights of
all who are destitute.”
Proverbs 31:8

More than a Magazine

Speak Up Magazine is a 501(c)3 non-profit
that gives voice to and offers an income
opportunity for people in transition and
those who are vulnerably-housed. They
become micro-business owners who buy
copies of Speak Up for a low price and resell
them, keeping all the cash and earning a
profit.

As a result, these enterprising street vendors
learn to manage their resources, grow their
businesses and change their lives with
dignity.

Volunteers and interns are welcomed for
creative areas, such as photography, editing,
teaching, production and design, as well as
fundraising, social services and more. Please
contact us to help out.

Speak Up is a member of the International
Network of Street Papers, which connects
and supports over 100 such organizations
worldwide.

This Zine Team Contact

EDITING AND WRITING CLINICS CHARLOTTE OFFICE
Peggi Knowe, Matt Shaw, Ben Shaw, Robb 704-980-9885
Astor, Melissa Sprenkle, Bill Shaw, Mary office@speakupmag.org
Pierce, Mickey Grooters, Debbi Shaw, 1551 S Mint St, Suite B
Leah Burnett, Jennifer Weil, Jesse Horness, Charlotte, NC 28203
Sharon Angel, Harry Griffin
TRAVERSE CITY CHAPTER
VISUALS speakuptc.com
Layout, Matt Shaw billshaw@speakupmag.org
Photos, Debbi Shaw and Peggi Knowe
3

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TWO POEMS

By Woody Swift Eagle (Native American Medicine Man)

PATHWAY TO DESTINY

We enter this earth with body bare.
We grow in our parents’ loving care.
We go to school to expand our minds
In hopes of our paths to find.
We never know where it will lead.
We can only hope to mount the steed
That will lead us to that eventual day
That day when we can truly say
Our life has proven its worth
That day that we pave the way
To bless the world with another birth.

ENDANGERED SPECIES

Of dead and dying I wish to speak
Of fur and fin and plant and beak
Of species on this earth
That hold a store of untold worth
Their homes are gone to fuel the need
Of some greedy corporate seed
The children of the morrow
Will wake up to the awful sorrow
That these of which I speak
This fur and fin and plant and beak
Will not be here for them to seek
To heal the sick or to comfort the weak

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[CONTENTS]

2 WATCHING OUR LANGUAGE Editorial Team
4 TWO POEMS Woody Swift Eagle
6 INTERVIEW WITH EDWARD SMALLS Bill Shaw
8 GETTING OUT OF MY FUNK Michal Smith
9 I WANT TO THANK YOU Edward Smalls
10 SHELTER OF ARMS Randy Parcher
11 FINDING A PLACE Vanessa Keith
12 COMMUNITY ACTION Aaron Sanders
14 LIFE ON A FARM Sheila Apperson
15 A TRANSITIONAL COMMUNITY Laurie Koelsch
16 REQUIEM FOR A LOST GENERATION Dustin Lapres
18 ONE WHITE FEATHER Mark Gansert
20 WHAT’S NEW WITH ME? Earleen Mingo
21 THE POWER OF AN HONEST IMAGE Celina Kareiva
22 A LATE DINNER WITH MY SON Jennifer Alexander
23 PROGRESS Ruth Hsieh

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[COVER INTERVIEW]
INTERVIEW: EDWARD SMALLS

BY BILL SHAW him into a back street and shot him three
WHERE ARE YOU FROM times in the chest. No idea why. I couldn’t
ORIGINALLY? give the slightest reason why someone
I grew up in the country in a little town would have killed him.
called Ravenel, twenty miles south of WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE MEMORY
Charleston, SC. It was on Highway 17. OF YOUR SON?
All my family is still there. It was all right. Just raising him, and growing up with
We weren’t rich enough. I grew up for him…the beach, fishing, crabbing. He
awhile just my mother and brother and was 36, not married. He had two kids.
sisters. I still see my grandkids every time I go
DO YOU EVER VISIT? to Charleston. They are doing great. My
I was there three times in August. I have oldest grandson graduated this year.
one brother in the Navy, he’s in Italy. My oldest granddaughter is a senior
One brother in Georgia. One brother this year. I have ten grandchildren.
in Iraq, he’s a diesel mechanic. One in DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE MEAL?
Charleston. One in Wilson, NC, and two Chuck roast, ox tail, lima beans, butter
sisters. beans. I go Jerry’s on Statesville Avenue.
WHY DID YOU LEAVE THE They serve it the old-fashioned way.
CHARLESTON AREA? WHAT DO YOU DO FOR
I left when my son got killed. They lured CHRISTMAS?

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Interview by Bill Shaw

it to a cousin when I went to New York. I
spent 11 years in New York.
WHAT PERSON HAS MEANT THE
MOST TO YOU IN YOUR LIFE?
My mother. She was always there for me.
Right or wrong, she was always there
for me. She loved me. She wasn’t always
happy about what I did, but she stuck by
me. She visited me in New York one time.
WHERE ARE YOU LIVING RIGHT
NOW?
I am renting a room by the week in South
Charlotte. The room is pretty nice, better
than sleeping in a tent outside, I tell you
that.
HOW DID YOU LEARN ABOUT
SPEAK UP?
Well, I put in for housing once and I met
a guy there, and he told me about Speak
Up. He gave me a card, and I have been
with Speak Up ever since. It helps me
a lot, helps me pay for my room, buy
necessities.
WHERE DO YOU SELL YOUR
MAGAZINES?
I am on the corner of North Tryon and
5th Street by Fifth Third Bank. I start
work at 8 and work till five. 8 to 5. It’s a
I go home and see my mother. She is job for me.
83 years old. To my grandkids I give WHAT IS MOST POSITIVE
whatever I can afford, nothing big, but EXPERIENCE SELLING SPEAK UP?
anything I can afford. I gave the oldest 25 The people that I meet, they are very
dollars. I don’t know what he did with it, nice. They treat me very well. It is a great
but it’s all I could afford. I help as much experience meeting the people on North
as I can. When I was working, I did a lot Tryon and 5th Street. It inspires me a lot.
more, but I do as much as I can. Selling HAVE YOU BEEN HOMELESS?
Speak Up helps me with that. Yes. The reason is I had a federal offense,
WHAT IS THE BEST MEMORY YOU which meant I couldn’t get a job or
HAVE FROM GROWING UP? housing. I did my time, but there is no
I like to hunt and fish. I used to love to second chance.
hunt and fish. Fish for any kind of fish DURING THIS TIME OF TRANSITION,
that bite: catfish, mudfish, crappies, WHAT BRINGS YOU COMFORT?
brims. I killed a lot of squirrels, raccoons, I think being on North Tryon and 5th
rabbits and deer. I had a bolt- action 12 Street, meeting the people. They are a
gauge six shot. The gun would turn you great bunch of people.
upside down. I wasn’t very old, thirteen WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN
or fourteen years. You had to hold it all FIVE YEARS?
right. It would knock you down. I gave Working and living in my own place.

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[HOMECOMING]
GETTING OUT OF MY FUNK

By Michal Smith

I felt like the prodigal son had come home years. Her presence is daily missed. I am
when I walked through the door at Speak her oldest son and have to deal with banks
Up. I missed it—the people writing and and lawyers about my family house which
sharing, the spiritual feng shui of the place. is currently being threatened to be taken
The last six months have been a away from me.
multitude of trials and adversities for me. Through all of that happening, I still
I stepped out of a loveless relationship of find the strength to go on through Jesus,
convenience, looked for an apartment, my Lord and Savior. When I think about
and moved into a hotel for a few weeks. what is going on around me, I think
The hotel burned down, so I moved back of what John Legend said, “My head’s
home to help my mother. We both were underwater but I’m breathing fine.”
sick; and I felt like I was right back at Through it all, God has kept me. I tell
square one, homeless again. I felt defeated. people that I put Gorilla Glue on my hands
My mother told me that I was never and grabbed God’s hand so I wouldn’t let
homeless, but that I just never came home. go! After you weather the storm, you must
Complications from an accident caused learn to dance in the rain.
me to be hospitalized with pancreatitis That is what has led me back to Speak
and liver damage, vertigo, and a traumatic Up. I miss it, not just the selling but also
brain injury. I now receive SSI, but it is the fact that I feel a part of something
not enough to make it on my own. At the that’s going to help me and somebody
same time, my mother was deathly ill. She else. I like meeting the people, being able
passed away on January 30. to share with them and them with me.
My mother was a woman who was So if you see it, live it, think it, or write
revered and loved by many. She was a it, Speak Up about it!
drug/alcohol counselor for about fourteen

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[HUSTLE]
I WANT TO THANK YOU

By Edward Smalls

I get up every morning at six a.m. I catch to do around their houses. That is why I
the train and go to the intersection of North love the people of North Tryon Street.
Tryon Street and 5th Street. I sell Speak Up I want to thank the people of North
Magazines. I arrive at eight a.m. and leave at Tryon Street for being so kind, caring and
four p.m. loveable. By selling Speak Up Magazine
I am really glad that I started selling and the people giving me donations and
Speak Up Magazine. It introduced me work around their homes, I am the hap-
to a lot of people on North Tryon Street. piest once-homeless person in the world!
They are very kind, sweet and lovely peo- I just want to thank the people of North
ple. They give me donations, something to Tryon Street for their kindness.
drink, and buy my lunch. As I get to know
them, some give me odds and ends work

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[SHADOWLANDS]
SHELTER OF ARMS

By Randy Parcher

Shelter is somewhere to lay one’s head when you have done, giving you the shelter of
the world has made one weary and tired, a his wisdom.
place to let one’s guard down. It’s a safe place Shelter can be the arm of the love of
called home by many but not all. Haven for your life wrapped around you, letting you
some has a different meaning than home. know they love you and that tomorrow
Sanctuary can be a tent in the woods, a will be a better day, no matter what kind
place under the bridge out of the weather, of day today was. We will be together, two
or a car to sleep in. These fortifications apart from the rest of the world. The world
from the world may give one peace of outside of these arms means less than
mind. They can also give one a feeling of nothing. These arms hold the promise of
insecurity, jumping at every sound one tomorrow, asylum of today. In a word:
hears in the dark of night. Every shadow of hope.
the moon that wavers can leave one feeling Shelter is friends and family gathered
exposed to fears, real and imagined. There around in times of sorrow at the passing
is an anxiety for what tomorrow brings of a loved one, sharing one’s heartbreak.
and self-doubt about the ability to handle The shelter of arms folded around one in
what the world gives us to deal with, a empathy.
lodging built of uncertainty. Shelter is faith that things, or we, can
Shelter is a mother, arms gently change for the better…a hope and dream
wrapped around us when we fail to ride for tomorrow, for faith is the haven of
a bike for the first time, encouraging us hope. Living quarters, sometimes, are just
to try again. The shelter of a mother’s a mirage for those who travel the asphalt
love assures us we are not alone in our wilderness, something we see as being far
misery. Shelter is father’s watchful eye as away.
you build your first birdhouse, his hand The dream is a star guiding us to a
on your shoulder saying what a good job place called home and the arms of those
we love.
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[TRAVELING MERCIES]
FINDING A PLACE

By Vanessa Keith

I came from LA to Charlotte ten years ago. I just before I lost my kids and my home.
wanted to have a place for my family. I came Where do I turn before and after the rain
here with two children, a boy and a girl. My falls? Well, nine years later, I’ve had to
new husband invited me to live with him in downsize to living with people renting
a new home. He promised he would take [their] rooms. What do I do now? My
care of us. For the moment, I thought that hands just hold on to God’s hands. For-
he wanted a family. But, come to find out, ward I go.
that was not what he had in mind. He was I just don’t want to end up on the
just using us. It all ended up in a divorce! streets again, like last winter, carrying my
After we left him and the house, that bags. I just want my family and a home
was it! I moved into another house across again. Please, help me, Lord!
the street. The children became out of
control. My daughter was talking back
and my son was also. It was hard trying to
raise the kids alone. Things got worse with
my daughter, and I called out for help. My
kids ended up in child custody!
I lost my house and almost my mind. I
became very low income. On top of that,
my family was gone, and my mother died

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[SOCIETY]
HOW WE EQUIP ONE ANOTHER
THROUGH ACTION

By Aaron Sanders

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While in the midst of the 2009 Great As we move in the right path toward
Recession, one of the worst economic what we want to do together, we get the
periods in American history, that winter sense that each of us is on the right path;
I met a kindred soul who asked me to buy and it also makes us feel secure that
a magazine. At the time, I was passing together we know what to expect. We can’t
through Amelie’s Café, unemployed but be changing our perspective every five
looking for work. Thinking back on that minutes, one day I’m this and another day
day, I remember like it was yesterday, I’m that. In this state, the moment could
how this dude sounded confident while be different from the previous minute or
endlessly pitching his wares. He looked the the next minute. That creates the ideal
part of someone who was on the rise to condition for us to not feel gathered
respectability and feeling pretty good about together by the Holy Spirit. But done right,
his future—as if he was finally getting the there comes a need for a strong sense of
opportunity he desired, on his terms. More compassion among ourselves because it
importantly, he projected that floating-on- can be emotionally intense for all of us
air persona of someone who’s found the when too much is too much. In His name,
answer and wants to share it with the world. we unlock all of our potential. We all
While telling me about his magazine need to strike a balance between striving
distribution business, he said it was not for what matters to us and starting from
uncommon for him each day to surpass where we are together, however small.
the previous day’s sales on a regular I haven’t crossed paths in quite some
basis. He described how his business was time with the dude I met in Amelie’s. But
making him enough money to pay for I thank God for everyone at SPEAK UP
stuff he needed like a bicycle and a hotel ZINE, because those ten magazines to
room some nights. This urban Horatio start my journey that winter represented
Alger, who basically was working his way reclaiming myself as a hard-working
out of homelessness, had introduced me individual. Action creates opportunity,
to my very first copy of SPEAK UP ZINE. and as Jesus promised his disciples in
Jesus promised his disciples in Matthew 18:20, “There I am with you.”
Matthew 18:20, “Where two or three are Surely those twelve men came to really
gathered in my name, there I am with know Him, and surely they believed in His
them.” As children of God, gathered promise when so many other possibilities
together by the Holy Spirit, I shared with appeared in their lives through His word.
dude about how we are called to serve and
love one another through our actions. Aaron Sanders is a Writer, Citizen
“When we do things that matter, we are Activist, and Candidate for City Council
moving forward.” He concluded that At-Large.
together we discover the unique parts of
ourselves, and starting small gives us an
opportunity to set the bar low so we can
start the momentum which comes with
starting something that we can always feel
good about.

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[PASTORAL MUSINGS]
LIFE ON A FARM

By Sheila Apperson

It is the most relaxing feeling to be in the a great time to meditate. Afterwards, I go
country. There is a certain serenity to it, a to the garden and pick myself some home-
peace that is all but surreal. When I go to grown tomatoes. The last time I went, I
the farm to help my friend feed the animals, got a watermelon.
they look to me for their food. They start Life on a farm is so relaxing when you
quacking, mooing, meowing, barking, come from the hustle and bustle of a big
clucking, and cock-a-dittle-dooing. city. I love all of the wonderful animals:
It’s a wonderful feeling to know that I cows, ducks, chickens, roosters, goats,
am a part of their world, and they have be- dogs and cats.
come a part of my serenity on the farm. It’s

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[SEEKING STABILITY]
A TRANSITIONAL COMMUNITY

By Laurie Koelsch

In our community of houseless people of all I tell them that my soulmate and I are
ages, it is a hard place to be in—especially experiencing homelessness. I tell them
for the families that have young children it is only a temporary situation. I talk to
living in their vehicles. Some have to sleep families who say how they park in places
on the ground in just blankets, trying to get where they think it is dark and quiet
a good night’s sleep. The ground is so hard, enough for the kids to sleep. Then the
it wears on a body. When we sit at a park or guardians of society end up knocking on
even at a store, people look at us trying to their windows saying, “You can’t sleep
figure out if we are homeless or not. here. You have to move.” The parents tell
The children in this transition have a them they are homeless and need a quiet
hard time getting the proper sleep at night. spot for the children to sleep. So then the
These children feel like they are being guardians get back in their cars and leave
judged by the way people look at them, the families alone.
judging them by their lifestyle. When Those of us who are experiencing
these families hear about the Outreach houselessness are waiting our turns to find
breakfast, they come in to get a hot meal places just to be and have roofs over our
and showers. They can even get their mail heads. To be able to sleep at night without
five days a week. There is also a phone so having to wake to the outside noises, to
we can make appointments. There is also be able to let our guards down, and stop
another place we can go to do our laundry worrying about the noises of the night,
and use a computer if it is too rainy and would be a dream come true.
cold.
Some of the people that we talk to
get a surprised look on their faces when

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[FACING FORWARD]
REQUIEM FOR A LOST GENERATION

By Dustin Lapres

I would like to take a moment to Laymette, and he was a fifty-something-
remember some of the Brothers we lost year-old Vietnam vet who camped here
along the way. Growing up in an upper- in Traverse during the summers and then
middle-class home, I never dreamed that hitchhiked to Jacksonville for the winters.
I would live the life I have, and it has been The day I met him, he invited me to his
a very tough life. Those who know me well campfire and shared a fish with me which
can attest to that. And yet, I can honestly he had caught out of Boardman River/
say, if I had to do it all again, I would do Lake right around the trestle (long before
it the all the same. I say this not because they developed that area) which used to
of the brutality I have experienced, or be the prime camping area for the hobo
the multiple incarcerations, the periods culture as it was an abandoned, unloved
of gnawing hunger and near frostbitten part of town, and most people stayed out
extremities, the day-to-day filthiness that I of there. Ralph and I began to hang out
have had to endure for lack of clean clothes regularly.
and shower facilities, nor the shame which Ralph taught me how to dumpster-
was an ever-burdening companion during dive and to go canning (collect cans), how
my days living publicly. I say this and can to build a shelter or look for a natural
say it unequivocally because of the people one. He told me stories about his life,
I have met along the way. If I had done and he loved me like a son—something
one thing differently, I may never have I badly needed in my life because at
had the chance to know some of the most just twelve and thirteen years old, I was
beautiful people I have ever been graced contemplating suicide because of my
with the opportunity to share a bottle or problems socially as well as at home. As
a campsite and a meal and the occasional I grew older, I spent many summers with
adventure with. Let’s pay homage to some Ralph and shared many forty-ouncers
of the old school hobos who taught me as over a campfire. He loved me at a time in
a young man to survive and thrive on the my life in a way that I like to think now
street. probably saved me. I needed that friend at
When I was about twelve, I met my that moment in time. Ralph died while I
first homeless friend. His name was Ralph was away in prison around the turn of the

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millennium. After 30+ years of fighting I had a lot of problems after the better
with the government over his benefits as a part of a decade in institutions, and yet
Vietnam Veteran, he received a settlement Larry always accepted me the way I was.
for a large sum; and that same week as he He was my brother, and I loved him. The
was riding into town to go to the store, the post-prison days were initially very tough
vehicle he was in was destroyed. Ralph for me. I had nobody and nothing, and
didn't make it. once again, fate smiled on me and put
Another close friend was Steve this goofy little streetkid right there
Gunn. Steve was a lot like Sam Elliot—a beside me to become my best friend. I
tough old long-haired biker cat with a hard learned so much from him about how to
attitude and a heart of gold. I met Steve love people again and how valuable we
when I was 15 and hung out with him all are as humans. Larry passed last June
almost daily for a few years. He and I had while I was away in treatment. It crushed
some great adventures canning, and his me, but he left behind a legacy in our
stories always chased away the loneliness memories. He was a diabetic and died due
and fear that were always so pervasive to complications at only 39, but he lived
during those young street years for me. such a rich life in terms of experience. I
Steve had been a roadie for the Grateful wrote a song for him upon his passing that
Dead, amongst other things; and in his my wife and I still play daily.
rugged biker/cowboy way, he was a very These lost souls, this generation of
loving friend…always ready to fight at the lost people who were so undervalued by
drop of a hat to protect his friends. Steve society and yet shone so brilliantly in my
befriended me and stuck with me during life and the lives of those who took the
a time when I had nobody and nothing—I time to get to to know them. Times are
was sleeping in the Civic Center bathroom changing. The era in which we all came
some nights and outdoors other nights. of age as homeless men has passed. Back
Nobody was really there for me except in those days, there was no Safe Harbor,
him and my homeless friends. Had he not no shelter for homeless kids/teens like
been there, I may not have made it. I had Pete's Place, and no breakfasts and very
every reason to give up, but men like him few meals. The people back then were
kept me going. even colder to us and the police were
Steve died while I was away in prison even harder. We had no one, nothing, and
in 2005-2006. He went to Safe Harbor on a nowhere except each other.
sub-zero night, and they turned him away When most of my friends were going
for being drunk and refusing to leave his to proms and driving new cars their
bottle. He made it a few blocks away onto folks had paid for, I was on the streets
the State Hospital grounds and fell in the thinking seriously about ending my life
creek and froze to death. He was one of so young. And yet at exactly the right
the smartest men I have ever known. moments, these people came into my
Larry Delater was probably one of the life and accepted me and showed me
most steadfast friends I have ever known. love and taught me and protected me.
I met Larry when he moved to Michigan I am what I am today because of all of
shortly after I was released from prison A them. So, no. Ask again and I will tell you
sweeter, gentler human being I have never again, I wouldn't change a thing. If you
known. Larry was homeless much of his ask me, these were the brightest stars of
life; and toward the end of it, he received their respective times—these tarnished
disability and CMH housing. I saw him diamonds in the rough who never failed
nearly every day the last ten years when to be their brother's keeper and who lived
I was not locked up. He always gave me so worldly in terms of their vices, yet so
a place to sleep, food to eat, lent me a few Godly in terms of the way in which they
bucks. He adored me. To Little Larry, I were unattached to the material life, and
was a rockstar, and he would sit and listen as ever-so-intent upon loving their fellow
to me play for hours, tickled to death. man.

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[STORY]
ONE WHITE FEATHER

By Mark Gansert, for Jenny

On a power line, over a cracked sidewalk, in smeared some peanut butter on a few slic-
a poor part of town, perched a pigeon. The es, and began to eat his simple breakfast.
pigeon was colored nearly all white with The pigeon cooed excitedly upon see-
only a black stripe around its slender neck. ing the bag of stale bread. Then it flew
The pigeon cooed softly as the man, lying on down onto the cracked sidewalk. It cooed
top of an olive-drab US-issued military-style again unto the man, “Your generosity is
duffle bag, slept along the edge of a concrete endless, my friend. Will you share the gift
wall in a corner on the cracked sidewalk. of our daily bread?” Seeing the dove-like
The pigeon recognized the man as the bird, his nearly constant companion on
same man who threw bits of bread onto this sidewalk, he threw the remnants of
the cracked sidewalk. He cooed to the his meager breakfast at the bird.
man on the sidewalk, though the man Greedily, the bird swooped in and de-
didn’t understand what the bird said to voured the rest of the man’s sandwich.
him. “Wake up, my friend. Wake up and Flying back onto a no-parking sign and
clear your eyes,” he cooed. “Clear them then again onto the power line, he cooed
and see the rising sun on this beautiful praises to the man now watching the sun
morning.” rise on the dirty bleak cracked sidewalk.
The man growled and mumbled under “Thank you, my friend. God blesses you
his breath at the insistent bird. Finally, he for your kindness and mercy.”
opened his eyes and rose up to his feet The man thought of his past as a tear
as the chorus of other birds sang God’s rolled from his unshaven cheek. He felt
glory. The man wiped the sleep from his so alone on the cool morning along that
weary eyes, dug through the duffle bag cracked sidewalk. The shame he felt for
and pulled the remnants of a days-old being on the streets was so overwhelming,
loaf of bread gotten from behind a bakery, now forced to rummage through dump-

Page 19

girls and two boys, all mottled in color.
They spent their days feeding the chicks
and grooming each other’s feathers.
On a winter’s day a few months ago, the
he awoke to a horrible sight. His beloved
lie upon the cracked sidewalk under their
nest. She succumbed to the cold and fell
from the tall oak tree. He cooed loudly,
“My God, Lord, why did she have to leave
me?” He perched above her lifeless body
in the nest they built for three days crying
out in anguish until her body was washed
away by a storm.
Atop the power line, the pigeon gazed
upon the man sitting on his duffle bag in
tears. He remembered his own lost love,
God’s gift to his simple self. He too felt the
sorrow of being alone as he cooed, “My
dearest love, how I miss thee. Your sweet
cooing and the gentle peck of your bright
beak. I shall never love another, my love,
my life, my spouse unto God. I pray for
you. I pray for our love everlasting.
As the day carried on, the man com-
posed himself and went about his day.
Picking up his duffle and moving from
his nightly resting place, unbeknownst to
him, his friend the white pigeon followed
sters, garbage cans, and piles of rubbish to him to the park nearby while the man
survive. He thought of a woman he’d loved cleaned up in the park’s restroom.
years ago as his eyes welled with tears. The man watched as the pretty wom-
How he so desperately wished he could go en ran by in the right jogging outfits. It
back in time to unsay those words spoken pained him to see their beauty. No one
in anger so he might not feel so alone this ever said hello to him in the years he’d
morning. been on the streets. His hair was long and
He sobbed quietly, alone on the uncut, his face ragged and unshaven, his
cracked sidewalk as the memory of being clothes worn and dirty. Just him and his
in love and feeling that love on a Christ- bag, wandering the streets, avoiding the
mas morning with that woman…the curve police, and struggling to feed himself
of her cheek, the light in her eye, and amidst the seemingly endless stream of
the warmth of her simple kiss. The tears new faces he’d see on the streets every day.
flowed, his chest heaved, and he cried Making friends, after awhile he learned,
aloud, “God, I’m so sorry.” was futile, as the struggle for survival in
The pigeon had seen the man like this the city streets ends up being very solitary.
before. He didn’t understand why until He wasn’t sure if it was his pride or what
that very day. Two years ago, as a young that made him so alone on the streets. It
pigeon, he came across a beautiful pigeon. was crushing, every day, from place to
She was cream colored with a bright beak place, not connecting with anyone—be-
and a sweet voice. They instantly fell in ing so alone while being in plain sight of
love. That year they met, they built a nest so many. It was frustrating knowing that
amongst a few oak trees that were planted you are deemed unworthy of love by your
along that cracked sidewalk decades ago. place on a cracked sidewalk being stalked
She laid four eggs, and they raised two by a pigeon for what little you offer.

Page 20

[LIFE UPDATE]
WHAT’S NEW WITH ME

By Earleen Mingo

Well, this is Earleen again. I am writing I hope to have the things I need so that
about things that have happened since the I can have my mom come stay with me. It
last time I wrote for the Zine. I have been would be great to spend time with her and
blessed. I have moved into a condo with a to just be happy. I want to thank God that
friend, and it is peaceful. Also, I have met I am alive, clean and eating well daily. That
a lot of people, and they want to tell their is a blessing, so I thank God for that and I
stories about what happened to them. I am going to do everything in my power to
think that would be great. get better and do better.
I have a lot of clients that buy my mag- I talked to a lot of homeless vets that
azines, so I am doing better than I was, have served the country, and the stories
thanks to Speak Up. I have been blessed, that they told me were so sad. How they
and I hope that I can be better, get better, were not treated right is an example of
and live better in due time. I know that what is wrong in this world. That is life. I
I will be successful, and I hope that God heard a story that the vets are dropped in
blesses me with what I need, not what I the wrong areas and that they have to fight
want. I pray every day to do better in life, their way back just to survive. I think the
and I will work hard at it so that I can have vets should be helped. That’s just me.
a normal, comfortable life.

Page 21

[PHOTOGRAPHY]
THE POWER OF AN HONEST IMAGE

By Celina Kareiva

When Chiaka came into Rex Hohlbein’s life, nected from the simple fact that home-
the Seattle architect found himself with a lessness involves real people with real suf-
foot in two worlds. Hohlbein had long dealt fering?” asked Hohlbein.
in million-dollar homes. But when he found “One of the problems that comes up in
Chiaka on a park bench – a shopping cart answering this question is that, in truth,
full of art supplies beside him – Hohlbein we’re really not that close to the issue to
was suddenly confronted with a community know how to answer it. The issue is so
who had nothing to their name. overwhelming intellectually and emotion-
That meeting grew into a friendship ally that we all distance ourselves from it.
and Hohlbein invited Chiaka into his We end up talking about statistics and
home. Chiaka in turn began sharing his symptoms.”
paintings and canvases with Hohlbein, Hohlbein’s architecture office became a
who has since grown to be an ally and ad- drop-in center and a resting stop for the
vocate for the homeless community. homeless. He began taking photos of the
“I began to think about all the other visitors and recording their stories. One
folks that I had been meeting on this park day, he started a Facebook group, Home-
bench on the canal. I realized that they less in Seattle, which quickly built a large
had also been struggling against the neg- following. To date, it has more than 17,000
ative stereotypes surrounding homeless- page ‘Likes’ and Hohlbein has never had
ness,” he recalled. “The sole purpose [of an unmet request for a donation or assis-
this project] was to just look closer to get tance.
past the negative and to look at the beauty Hohlbein hopes Homeless in Seattle
of each person.” shatters negative stereotypes and encour-
“I have been aware of the issue of ages people to make housing affordabili-
homelessness my entire life and I have ty and homelessness “our problem”: “My
been unaware of the person – the mother, goal was never going to be to fix anybody.
the father and child suffering through it. It was just [to put] love into the equation.”
Why is that? How could I be so discon-

Page 22

[POEM]
A LATE DINNER WITH MY SON

By Jennifer Alexander in Nashville, TN, via the Street News Service

Remember that night at
it was about a year ago—
we went to Sammy’s restaurant on Caroline
You ordered a shot and the Mediterranean Plate.
I had water and the avocado, sprouts, and Swiss on whole wheat.
You paid because I didn’t have any money,
Remember?

We exchanged polite chit chat for a while—
you obsessively fingered your tortoise-shell frames
feeling superior and suspicious the whole time—
me just trying to get to the meat.
Without meaning to, I cut too close to the bone.
Your face, that face I know so well, flushed crimson.
Thunderbolts of ridicule stormed from your mouth,
Remember?

You started calling names—mocking my bright spirit.
Then you slammed fifty bucks on the table
and headed for the exit,
me following a little behind.
Out on the street, you leaped into the driver’s seat,
gunned the engine, and peeled off into the night
leaving me standing in a Niagara rain on Caroline,
Remember?

Well, my umbrella was in your car.
I’d like to have it back.

Originally published in Nashville’s street paper, The Contributor, “A Late Dinner With My Son”
was the winning entry for Best Vendor Contribution at the 2015 International Network of
Street Papers Awards. Speak Up writer Dustin Lapres was one of five finalists for his real life
story “Hope Dead Winter,” which appeared in Speak Up Zine Volume 1 Issue 4.

Page 23

[GRATITUDE]
PROGRESS

By Ruth Hsieh

RUTH HSIEH, KEYBOARDIST I AM GRATEFUL

I went to the Goodwill University to practice List of things I am grateful for:
typing at the lab. The classroom has a lot of
available computers. The desktop screen is Jesus
yellow and has a lot of programs in it. The Good health
desktop also has many icons such as Internet Speak Up Magazine
Explorer. Bus ticket
The typing lab program is called The Salvation Army
Mavis Beacon. It started with middle row A place I can stay
practice—a, s, d, f, g. Next was the upper Food to eat
key row, followed by bottom key row. Clean clothes
After practicing the three rows, we did the Medicaid
speed test, error control, and a quiz. Doctors and nurses
I’m getting faster with my typing but Church
need to improve on accuracy. I made some Friends from Speak Up
errors. The better the speed, the more Writing workshops
errors I make. I have to stop and think to Warm smiles
adjust my accuracy when I type fast. Tender-loving care
The typing lab helps me to concentrate Friends from church
and focus better on my ability to think. Job at Goodwill
The reason I focus so much at the typing Shower
lab is because I want to create a document
and do a research paper. It seems like the
more I type, the better I get at it. It will
help me with my computer information
career.