Land of the Lost Souls

There are many reasons I enjoy working at the Lincoln Park Community Shelter, but I think they all stem from one of our founding philosophies: community. A lot of effort is put into creating community between guests, between guests and staff, between guests and volunteers, between staff and volunteers, and between staff. Sometimes this is facilitated very intentionally, through things such as Community Meetings, where all of the guests come together to talk about the shelter and what things they can do or change to help each other through this transitional time in their lives. Other times this is done more organically, through the informal conversations between people in the kitchen or community room throughout the day.

One of the intentional ways in which the staff not only works to build community with themselves, but also works to better their understandings of the guests and their varied situations, is through our staff Book Club. Beginning this year, we have read books focused on alcoholism, suicide, and homelessness.

The last book we read was Land of the Lost Souls: My Life on the Streets, by Cadillac Man, which chronicles some of his time experiencing homelessness in New York City. The book was interesting in almost an infinite number of ways, but there were some things that stood out most, and were a big part of the discussion we had.

One of the main questions we had was about Cadillac Man's transition from being housed to homeless. He tells readers that before "Cadillac Man" started living on the streets, he lived in a home with his wife and daughter. He had a steady job at a meat market, but when things went under, he was eventually let go. His wife started working, and was supporting them both. He believed that his wife was ashamed of him, and thus, he was ashamed of himself. He acknowledges that he could have gotten a part-time or low paying job, such as working at McDonald’s or Burger King, but that he felt it would have been equally shameful.  Eventually he decided he didn’t deserve to stay, and he left. Since the book is written entirely from his perspective, we all wondered what factors other than shame contributed to his leaving. Was he depressed or experiencing some other type of mental health issue? Did his wife want him to leave, or was that just his interpretation of the situation? It is hard to say what really happened.

We also discussed how intelligent and resourceful Cadillac Man is throughout the book. He talks about the ways he stays warm in the winter (by stuffing newspaper and napkins into his clothing, to create insulation), the various first aid items he has (bandages and antiseptic), and how he earns money (through canning – recycling cans and bottles) and keeps it safe.

A big question we had in relation to our work at LPCS was whether or not Cadillac Man would utilize any of the services we offer. In the book he mentions taking sandwiches from an organization outside of a church, and the importance and rarity of showers, so we think that maybe he would attend our Saturday morning Community Engagement Program (CEP), for a hot breakfast, laundry, and a shower. We do not, however, think he would be interested in moving into LPCS and looking for a stable housing solution. A common theme throughout the book is his belief that he deserves to live on the streets and does not deserve a real home. That belief is one of the reasons why we questioned whether or not he was dealing with a mental illness, such as depression.

Overall, we all really enjoyed the book and the opportunity it gave us to understand another person’s situation. No matter how many people you meet or how many stories you learn, each person’s experience with homelessness is different, and the more you hear, the more you understand that. I would definitely suggest this book for anyone looking to gain more perspectives on homelessness and for a new way to engage with the issue.

If you are interested in seeing what other books are on the staff book club list, check out our Cause Reading List board on Pinterest (Note: you do not have to have a Pinterest account to be able to view).

--Elli Krandel, Volunteer Coordinator

Life as a Case Management Intern

My name is Amy Gillespie and I have been working as a case management intern for the past nine months. I am finishing up my first year of studies for social work and I am extremely grateful that folks at LPCS welcomed a student intern to grow and learn alongside the guests, volunteers, staff, and graduates of LCPS.  Reflecting on my time at Lincoln Park Community Shelter is a challenging and exciting task. I learned so much this year about myself, homelessness, substance abuse and addiction, fundraising, advocacy, and much more. 

Over the past year I have grown immensely in my professional identity, in my confidence, and in my ability to serve men and women who happen to be homeless. I have gone on an emotional journey with the people on my case load and I think I have helped them in some small ways, even if it was simply believing in them and helping them believe more in themselves.  I have grown fond of the people I have worked with--staff, volunteers and guests alike--and I am invested in their successes and struggles.

As I finish up my last couple of weeks at LPCS, I have thought about the things I will miss and the things I will carry with me from LPCS.  I will miss walking into the shelter and saying good morning to the guests and smells of cinnamon rolls wafting from the kitchen from the amazing volunteers who just cooked breakfast. I will miss hearing everyone’s stories that come to LPCS and being blown away and humbled by their incredible resilience in the face of rough times. 

I will also miss working with men and women living on the streets or in emergency shelters through the Community Engagement Program. That is where I felt I could do something immediately helpful for clients that were first hearing about LPCS. They may have come to do laundry, take a shower, have a hot meal, and escape the trials of their lives, but many simply needed to tell their story to a compassionate person. 

The vast majority of the people who happen to be homeless that I have met through my time at LPCS have been older men who are often highly motivated to improve their situation, but stuck in a system that is broken and usually does not give them the time of day. That is why it has also added a layer of reflection and perspective to my experience seeing how passionate and involved the staff, volunteers, graduates, board members and guests are in advocating for larger changes at the systemic level.

I will miss our staff meetings and potluck lunches. I will miss Linda, the Interim Housing Manager’s sassiness, and Betsy and Erin’s banter in staff meetings. I have grown to love everyone I work with and have felt totally embraced and respected as a growing and emerging professional. I will carry with me so many memories of working with guests at LPCS and how their stories have impacted me as a person and as a clinician. I have learned more from them than they probably have learned from me.   

Before I leave, I have been given the task to present recommendations to the staff on changes to one of the programs that serve our guests. I am grateful for the opportunity to contribute in this way. It shows trust and support from them that I have been given a leadership role and it is simply consistent with how I have been treated from the day I stepped inside the door of LPCS. Everyone operates out of a lens of respect for each person’s strengths, gifts and perspectives. There is enormous diversity within the population of the guests at LPCS but it is made most clear that all are welcome and that is a true blessing that LPCS offers those that become involved with the organization. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for welcoming me into such an amazing, textured, and life changing experience and allowing me to work with all of you at LPCS. I won’t forget it and I hope to be back some day in one capacity or another.

Welcome Elli!

Around this time of year, the staff at LPCS say goodbye to familiar faces, and welcome new ones.  LPCS, like many other non-profit agencies, utilize various volunteer service corps to fill certain positions (such as AmeriCorps, Lutheran Volunteer Corps, etc.). Working with these groups is a wonderful experience both for LPCS and the volunteer.  Volunteers bring with them a fresh perspective and wonderful ideas.  For the volunteer, they get to learn or improve a new set of skills.  So this fall, as we get ready to say goodbye to Julia Weegar, our Volunteer Coordinator and AmeriCrops*VISTA for the past year, we welcome Elli Krandel who will be taking over Julia's role as Volunteer Coordinator.  So, in her own words, is a little bit about Elli!

Hi! My name is Elli Krandel. Originally from Woodstock, Illinois, I attended the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, where I received a degree in Economics, and I am super excited to start this next part of my life by working for LPCS. I will be joining LPCS as the new Volunteer Coordinator, and as an AVODAH fellow.

AVODAH is a year-long service program for people in their 20s combining work at non-profit agencies with pluralistic Jewish learning and living, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to be a part of it.

I have always been interested in various social justice issues. In college, I was the treasurer for an organization called Challah for Hunger, which sells challah, a traditional Jewish bread, to raise money for various non-profit organizations. When I found AVODAH, I was really excited about the opportunity to explore my passion for anti-poverty work, while continuing to investigate the connection between Judaism and social justice work. I was equally excited when I saw the opportunity to work at LPCS. I think the work the shelter does is incredible, and I cannot wait to do my part to help the organization continue providing vital services to the community.

So join us in welcoming Elli to the LPCS team! 

Volunteering and Service

This past week, I was able to attend the National Conference on Volunteering and Service in New Orleans.  More than 4600 people attended the conference from all over the country, and all walks of life.  It was wonderful to see so many people come out in support of volunteers and the work that they do.  Both the mayor of New Orleans and the Governor of Mississippi expressed their heartfelt thanks for all of the work volunteers did to repair the region post-Katrina. Hearing stories of how volunteers have come together in their communities during times of need reminded me how lucky we here at LPCS are to continue to be supported by such an amazing community.  So a big thank you to all of our volunteers and supporters! 

The best part of the conference, learning that the Windy City is the host site for next year's conference!  Congrats on the honor Chicago!

 

--Heather Pressman, Community Relations Manager

Experiencing a "Point in Time"

On a clear, chilly, January night, we piled into cars, armed with clipboards, flashlights, boxes of hats and gloves, and questions. Questions for homeless folks we would find on the street about demographics and their various needs.We drove around Chicago, peering out the car windows, searching for people to count and survey for the biannual “Point In Time” info gathering. The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development requires all cities seeking federal funding for homeless programs to conduct a count of the homeless population. This will estimate needed allocations for homeless services. Though counterintuitive, we had an incentive to find as many currently homeless people as possible. We wanted to gather the most accurate number, so that homeless folks aren’t “short changed” when it comes to allocating funding for our city. 

I was assigned to a portion of the Lincoln Park neighborhood, along with two other Point In Time volunteers. Dozens of volunteers gathered at headquarters around Chicago, and were dispatched all over the city, with the intent of surveying every square inch. My group and I weaved carefully through the pristine streets of Lincoln Park, filling our map with highlighter marks as we turned each corner. It felt ridiculous to be searching for homeless folks down streets lined with fancy cars perched in front of million dollar homes. I doubted that there would be much tolerance for people to be “loitering” on these streets, and I doubted that people who are homeless would feel comfortable on these streets anyway. Not surprisingly, we found one person; he was speedily wheeling a shopping cart down a busy street and preferred not to be surveyed.

Our count after 4 hours of searching: 1.  

Demographic info collected and warm winter clothing distributed: 0.

This was not what any of us novice Point In Time volunteers expected when we signed up weeks earlier. I had envisioned being on a street such as Lower Wacker, having worthwhile conversations with maybe 25 homeless individuals, collecting valuable info, distributing needed supplies. You know, like how it would be in a movie.

As we are constantly reminded in social service work: there is always more to the story. Are there a number of individuals sleeping outside in Lincoln Park who we missed? When other Northside counting groups reported similarly low numbers, can we be sure that our tally is anywhere near accurate? What made the man we encountered on Clybourn wary of interacting with us? Can he be reached with services? Does he want services? A most interesting question: does he need services? Can it be deduced that folks staying outside on a below zero night in January (presumed to be a time when only the “truly” homeless are out), are challenged with a mental illness? Is enough being done to care for our homeless neighbors? Should we care?

As we drove back to headquarters at 2am, we surmised whether or not we had just done a service or a disservice to the currently and future homeless. This was the major take-away for me. There are people currently feeling snug and secure in their houses who will become homeless. Will Chicago be prepared to serve them? 

 --Katie McNamara, Case Management Intern

Top 10 LPCS Moments

As our 25th year celebrations wind down, we asked several staff, volunteers, and board members to share their top 10 memories--good and bad--of LPCS.  Here is what current Executive Director Erin Ryan had to say...

Last September, I celebrated a decade at LPCS with a surprise party full of friends, co-workers past and present, and the LPCS Board. This started me reflecting on all I’ve learned and experienced in these 10 years. Boiled down, here are my Top 10 LPCS Moments:

1.      I remember my interview at LPCS in August 1999 for a volunteer coordinator position. It was my first job out of college, and I had just moved to Chicago. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into! When I asked why the position had been open for over a year, I was told, “This is a special place, and we need a special person to fill it.” When I was offered the position and started at LPCS, it became immediately apparent that this IS a special place, and I felt honored to have been welcomed into the LPCS family and determined to make it proud.

2.      One of the best parts of working at LPCS is being able to help someone move into their new apartment. One of the first people I helped move was LaVance. Over his 7 months at LPCS, we had established an easy rapport, and I learned a lot from him about recovery and how hard it is to start over in mid-life, reconciling years of disconnectedness from his family and addiction with this new leaf. As we loaded my car with his few possessions and drove to his new apartment – his first in over a decade – LaVance said, “I never thought that at the age of 50, my best friend would be a 23-year-old white woman.” I was so touched that he thought of me as a friend, and that he had learned as much from me as I had from him. This showed me that despite our differences, we all have something to offer each other, and LPCS had allowed that to happen. LaVance is still one of our greatest success stories, 9 years later!

3.      After two years at LPCS, I decided to pursue a master’s degree in social work to improve my skills and prepare me for other roles at the organization. In school, I took an internship with another agency that served women in recovery. The first day of my internship was Sept. 11, 2001. I was introduced immediately to my first client: a woman who was skeptical, at best, about my ability to understand her situation or help her. As we sat, though, watching the TV in awe at the events unfolding, she said, “for the first time, I feel really connected to something bigger than myself.” Joyce taught me the power of community. Those who are on the margins of society are often disconnected from community, and those of us with it usually take it for granted. I have ALWAYS felt a part of something bigger than myself, and I realized that I could help bring that sense of community to the guests at LPCS, and that would be more powerful than anything.

4.      Advances in technology - when I started, we had one computer and no email or website! We did all our volunteer scheduling via phone trees. Our main office was on the 2^nd floor of the church, and the case management office was in the basement. Every time our social worker Evan got a phone call, we had to walk the cordless phone down 5-something steps! Things are so much more efficient now!

5.      Testifying during Zoning Board of Appeals hearings (to get a special use permit and start our renovation); I have never felt so nervous…the reputation and future of the organization was at stake. I felt very alone at the front of the room, being cross-examined about the need for LPCS programs and hoping desperately to make a case. But as I exited the city council chambers and saw over 400 people standing there in support of LPCS and our mission, my confidence was bolstered and I knew that we would win the permit.

6.      Laughing with staff about strange donations: from wedding dress crinoline to gas masks, we’ve seen it all! We’re so appreciative of all the in-kind support we receive, but some things that are not very practical for use by homeless people slip by from time to time!

7.      Waiting up at St. Pauls with Barb, Evan, or Amy for a notoriously late overnight volunteer. We didn’t need two people to stay, but some of our best conversations about the programs and guests happened in the St. Pauls kitchen at 10:30 pm!

8.      Trying desperately to avoid earning the “marshmallow award” – given to staff when we are “soft” on enforcing the rules, then growing into the realization that being compassionate and responsive to an individual’s needs is not necessarily being “soft,” and that sometimes, being “soft” is the best approach.

9.      Celebrating the open house of our newly renovated facility, then watching it flood two weeks later. In a torrential downpour, we had several inches of water all throughout the facility. However, we also had dozens of guests, staff, and personnel from Lincoln Park Presbyterian and St. Pauls down the street furiously mopping and vacuuming up water to save the floors and furniture. I’ve never seen so many people come together so quickly! One guest remarked, ”I didn’t know we were getting a swimming pool!”

10.  Sitting vigil with Mike, a graduate of LPCS who was in hospice at Lincoln Park Hospital. Mike was estranged from his family, and his LPCS family was all he had at the end. Fellow staff members Betsy, Anna, and I took turns sleeping on the couch and sitting with him, and volunteers and even guests who didn’t know Mike joined the rotation to keep him company until he passed away.

There are plenty of sad/confounding moments as well over the years. But these are the 10 I’ll choose to remember because of their lessons and inspiration. Thank you to everyone who has made the last 10 years fly by as I’ve grown and learned so much about the world and my place in it!

 --Erin Ryan, LPCS Executive Director

What LPCS means to me...

To me, LPCS is my second home.

I started volunteering at LPCS almost three years ago and ever since I've considered both the staff and guests to be apart of my life, as they've made a niche for me in theirs. I started off as an overnight volunteer, but after realizing that I wanted to do more, the LPCS staff helped me find a way to include me in their daily community. I've fallen in love with the mission, the people, and the facility itself over the years, and without the shelter I don't know if I would be the same person. But as much as they've helped me, what keeps me coming back is the way they help the people that truly need it. They make it their priority to not only give the basic necessities to individuals who have fallen on rough times, but to go above and beyond. They empower individuals by giving them the tools and skills to escape homelessness, but they also give them the compassion and respect that everyone deserves but rarely recieves when going through such harsh times. LPCS not only gave me, my second home but also showed me that my small acts make a large impact. And for that I will always be blessed.

This is what LPCS means to me... what does it mean to you?

Compassion Still Burns In Lincoln Park

This past Saturday, I attended a memorial service for a man who was instrumental in the early days of the Lincoln Park Community Shelter. Jim Northcutt lived for several years on a bench at Clark and Deming streets. His story made national headlines in 1986 after he and his belongings were set on fire while he slept there, a sign of the times in the mid-80s when homelessness was emerging as a national crisis, and communities were struggling with how to respond. Lincoln Park residents, including those who founded the LPCS, were outraged, and redoubled their efforts to establish a safe haven – a shelter – that was community-supported.

Jim was a sporadic guest at the LPCS in our early years. He spoke little and seemed wary of the assistance we were providing, but was always cordial and allowed a few people to get closer to him. He left an impression, as those gathered on Saturday to remember him told stories of simple interactions and lives changed forever as a result. The mystery of Jim reminded everyone who encountered him that each homeless man and woman had a story, a history, and a family who loved them.

Jim had been an engineer with the CTA until he descended further into depression and mental illness, eventually losing his apartment and touch with his family in the late 60s. His sister Gail finally located him in 1986 when she recognized his description in an article in the Wall Street Journal, chronicling the fire and his unwitting role in a national debate about how to address the growing problem of homelessness. Via a long chain of social workers and priests, Gail helped to get Jim medical attention and temporary housing, and some sense of reconnection before he passed away in 1988 from leukemia.

A year later, the Northcutt family dedicated a drinking fountain to Jim’s memory. The fountain still stands near the North Pond gazebo in Lincoln Park, and is inscribed “All you who are thirsty, come to the water!” (Isaiah 55:1) They gather every five years to celebrate his memory and the reunion they were able to establish before he passed. I was honored to be included in this year’s tribute, and am so inspired by the stories I heard from Jim’s family and long-time Lincoln Park residents who remember him.

Unknowingly, Jim’s journey helped to fan the spark of awareness and compassion that many Lincoln Park residents were feeling in the mid-1980s, prompting them to come together to form the LPCS. Although Jim died many years ago, his memory lives strong in this community, proving that the fire of compassion is still burning strong in Lincoln Park!

--Erin Ryan, LPCS Executive Director

My enlightening experience at LPCS

My perception of the homeless and homeless shelters has changed dramatically since I started volunteering at LPCS in August. It was kind of a revelation to meet such a wide range of people classified as "homeless." There are history buffs, yoga fanatics -- people with whom I can easily relate. Before stepping into LPCS, I thought shelters looked kind of like POW camps, with dark, vast sleeping areas full of creaky twin beds. I'd never heard of extended-stay shelters, in which guests take a wide range of classes to get their lives back on track.

As a front-desk volunteer, there is a lot of sitting around and talking to guests/employees/cooks. For me, it's a nice way to wind down after a day of work. I've made some good friends during my time at LPCS, and I'm hoping to get more involved as long as my schedule allows it.

-- Emile Dawisha