Rock Bottom Hope

In addition to hearing about my own perspectives and experiences, I thought that some of my readers might enjoy hearing the words of some of the clients and volunteers here at the men’s center. Over the months to come, I plan to include passages and thoughts submitted by others whom I work with in the center.

One of my favorite things about working at SVDP is participating in the Friday morning meetings with the Seldom Seen acting company. As you may know, the men who participate in the acting company write, produce, and perform a complete play each year. These productions are based upon the actual experiences of the creators. These Friday meetings have provided me with an incredible opportunity to hear their stories and get to know them better.

This week, I thought I would include a passage that was written for Rock Bottom Hope by a very talented woman named Soleil (who will also perform it on stage). You can think of this as a sneak preview of our still-in-production play, Rock Bottom Hope.

Hold on a minute, Please hear me now, my brother. Maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s all there is to life. We act foolish, then we die. Maybe none of us is being real – ever. Maybe I do go through life wearing one mask, then another. Maybe I do. But if I wear a mask, there’s a reason for it. A reason based in my reality. If I hide sometime from you, that doesn’t mean I have no reason for hope. I will try to explain.

This is the story of a dove & its song. Mourning songs heard best in those in-between spaces where the veils part-between dusk & dawn, birth & death, natural & supernatural…

This story is about one of those moments:

Mom’s got recovery–breakdown blues. She’s off her meds and swinging moods like Tarzan swings between trees. There’s been a cout d’etat, a shock and awe campaign to the government of love. Peace has been under arrest for more than 2 weeks now. Happiness has been on lock-down & sanity a prisoner of war is under interrogation & harsh investigation-waiting in the hole to stand trial. But we, freedom fighters, prayer warriors have managed to smuggle in hope and moments of laughter like contraband.

I’d rather have rock bottom hope than soggy bottom blues…

She has seized the distribution of food, suspended transportation privileges, and is threatening confiscation & on critical commodities like toilet paper. There’s an embargo on the free trade of ideas, sanctions for difference of opinions & all communications are under surveillance

I want to abandon this post and go AWOL. I was going to abandon this post and go AWOL – absent without leave… But then I heard my Master’s voice as He lead me. Adonai told me to stand in this in-between space between heaven & hell… dusk and dawn. Tend His business until this war is won.

I am just a dove

This is the last time I sing this song

My hope is anchored in what I can’t see

My hope is in manna hidden from me

Rather have rock bottom hope than soggy bottom blues…

I am just a dove

This is the last time I sing this old song

My hope is anchored in what I can’t see

My hope is in manna hidden for me

I am just a dove

This is the last time I sing this old, old song

My hope is anchored in what I can’t see

My hope is in manna hidden for me

Rather have rock bottom hope than soggy bottom blues…

I say, I’d rather have rock bottom hope than soggy bottom blues…

This is where I am going to throw in my shameless plug for the Seldom Seen acting company:

If you are interested in learning more about the company and how you can get a ticket to their December 9^th performance at the Oakland museum’s James Moore Theatre, please visit their website:

http://www.svdp-alameda.org/News/SelSeenActRBH.asp

Curse of the Bug

9/8/06

Steve’s car is just about famous in the city of Oakland. It’s a Volkswagen beetle in this shade of electric blue that just about hums down the street when you see it. You can’t miss it.

So there is something else special about this car—it has a curse. I know, many of you are thinking, “Yeah, I’ve borrowed Steve’s car before and I didn’t have problems.” Well, that is because you are not a Jesuit Volunteer. Allow me to elaborate (I know my two predecessors Joe and Tom would back me up on this).

Early on during my career here at St. Vincent’s, Steve (very generously) made it clear to me that I could borrow his car any time that he was not using it. Now, I rarely borrow other people’s cars because I would feel horrible if I got a ticket or if something happened. Still, there are times when I need to use it at work to drive a client or open and close an NA or AA meeting when Steve can’t.

Along with his invitation, Steve gave me a warning about former JVs and parking tickets. Apparently the combination of a Jesuit Volunteer and this electric blue paint creates some type of force that attracts parking tickets like a magnet. It happened to Tom two years ago, and it happened to Joe last year.

Well, I’ve never gotten a parking ticket in my life and I figured I could reverse the curse. Hell, I lived in Boston during the 2004 World Series. So I closed up the center after an NA meeting and I drove home (I kept the car for the night so I didn’t have to walk through Oakland after dark). I got to my block and then I drove around the entire downtown area by my apartment. I spent about 20 minutes looking for a good parking space… and I thought I had found one.

Understanding that the odds were against me, I ran outside to check the car at midnight. There were other cars parked on the road and everything looked fine. Unaware of what time I needed to start feeding the meters, I got up a little early to put some quarters in. And there it was…that bright green envelope underneath the windshield wiper. I knew that I had already lost.

So I paid the ticket online so that Steve wouldn’t have to, and I did some research on future parking solutions. Optimistically speaking, I would like to look at it as a rite of passage.

Keys…

9/1/06

As the JV here, I should have a set of keys that opens the men’s center, my office, a health clinic, a pharmacy, and a number of cages and storage units filled with clothing and other donated goods. As of right now, I still do not have these keys

At first, I thought that having a set of keys would make my job easier. I would be able to go about my daily duties without having to borrow Steve’s keys (finding Steve is like trying to hit a moving target). In reality, living keyless for my first few weeks has been a blessing in disguise.

In a center that serves men with drug and alcohol addictions (and people who are flat out broke)--things disappear. Donations are locked up and keys are closely guarded. That being said, there are times when the keys are lent out and returned immediately. The help desk coordinator is pretty much the only member of the workforce who would borrow the keys. He is the highest ranking employee of the workforce who helps keep things running smoothly out on the guidance center floor while Steve and I work on other projects for the center.

The thing that makes this situation unique is that six months ago the help desk coordinator may have been breaking into cars for crack money…really. By lending someone the keys, Steve is letting him know that he trusts him. At St. Vincent’s, trust is really a source of power…power is gained by earning trust.

This puts me in an interesting situation as a new employee. Many people who are not the coordinator think that they should be able to use the keys too. In fact, one of the first conflicts that I witnessed was between two employees over a set of keys. Not having my own set of keys has allowed me to observe the power struggles and politics among the men employed within the workforce. It freed me from the responsibility of showing trust during my first few weeks of work. It gave me a chance to get to know individual personalities and develop an even-handed approach in working with all of the men.

That’s it for this week,

paul