We Ain't Your Family

There is a small man at the shelter who is the same age as my mother. They call him Littl'un. I had the privilege of filling out some paper work with Littl'un one night and we talked a lot.

He never made it to high school and I didn't bother to ask why. He never got his GED, either. The older guys at the shelter don't think there is any use, because "who would hire someone my age?" Littl'un had a job at a local plant, but was part of a number of layoffs. He also got kicked out of the house when his wife found out he had been sleeping around.

Homeless. No job. No wife. Littl'un drinks and I'm not sure I can blame him. The other night he got "permanently evicted" from the shelter because he came in drunk. Had I been there, I might have let him in. When Littl'un came in drunk, he would stumble onto one of the couches and you wouldn't hear anything from him until the morning.

But the shelter has rules for reasons. You never know when a drunk person will become dangerous. This winter night, Littl'un was rightfully told to leave. Since Littl'un and I talked about the incident, I get the feeling Littl'un felt belittled. Supposedly he wasn't even going to stay in the shelter, he was just going to stop in and say he was too drunk to stay in. Who knows if that story is true. I have no reason to disbelieve Littl'un; I think him an honest man. But we all know a drunk man's plans don't always turn out the way he planned. I suspect Littl'un would have tried to stay at the shelter that night. Who knows?

Littl'un told me the nighttime worker put on an attitude and was throwing around his authority. I imagine Littl'un felt the worker was like a bouncer puffing out his chest (and let's remember, these are the interpretations of what I heard from a man telling of a story when he was drunk, reality may be skewed). Feeling offended and cornered (so I interpret), Littl'un said something about kicking the young man's ass. Later that night, Littl'un was placed on the "permanent eviction" list. He cannot enter the normal program again. He cannot even enter the winter-nights program.

I let Littl'un in before I understood the nature of his eviction. I helped Littl'un file a grievance concerning the status of his eviction. I let Littl'un into the shelter on a number of occasions and the other night I noticed a note saying he was not to be let into the shelter. I read that note too late, too.

One night, Littl'un came into the office and told me he was worried about me not going to Maine to be with my family for Christmas. He asked me what I was going to do and I told him I was going to spend the day with him and the rest of the guys. There are two kinds of family, anyways.

I told Littl'un he and the rest of the guys would just have to be my family on Christmas. Enough of the guys in the shelter have family in the area they won't be spending time with for various reasons. But for some reason Littl'un and the gang still see me as different from them, as an other. And I am. I have two jobs, an education, a home, and lots of food. They eat whatever I am given to serve them. Most don't have steady work if any. They are only allowed to get drunk during the day, in public, if they want a place to stay the night.

Littl'un told me, "We ain't your family. We might be your friends, but it isn't the same," or something to that effect. I still get choked up writing about it. He said "friends."

You're alright, Littl'un.

Since writing this piece, I received a call from the ER while at the shelter. The lady from the hospital asked if I had any space for Littl'un that night. I said I was not allowed to let him into the shelter. And for a moment, I was proud that I had followed the rules, the rules that rightly and effectively protect the safety of the men in the shelter. That pride didn't last long. The lady told me she was looking for some place for Littl'un to go, since he told her he had nowhere to go once she released him. He was taken to the ER earlier that day for alcohol poisoning.

I miss you, man. I hope you'll be OK