In the winter of 1978, I experienced firsthand the awesome benefit of having a local National Guard unit standing by. I had taken my first job after leaving school early to pursue my dreams in broadcasting at a rock radio station in Dayton, Ohio.
It was while I was there that I experienced my first real blizzard. It was not one of those annual dustings of two inches of snow like around here in D.C. where everyone takes a couple of days vacation. The snow came and never seemed to stop. It got so deep and the drifts so high that an unusual announcement went out. —you’d be arrested for driving. People just left their cars on streets and highways and started walking.
When the snow stopped, many were cut off and isolated. We were stuck on our radio station for what seemed like days, sleeping on the floors and doing public service updates around the clock without relief, when the governor finally announced that he was mobilizing the Ohio Guard.
I remember seeing the results of their presence immediately. The Guard units showed up with the biggest vehicles you could ever imagine. They attached plows to every vehicle they had. Massive front loaders and big four-wheel trucks cleared the way in town and then fanned out to start rescuing citizens in surrounding communities who had been cut off without food, water or power and massive piles of snow were everywhere. Seeing the faces of the young guardsmen gave hope to our communities during this time of need. They went at it 24/7 until they had broken through to every backwater village and town in southwestern Ohio. They rescued people who had been unreachable for what seemed like a week.
All this brings me to my next contact with the Guard years later. Serving in their local communities also, National Guard soldiers play a major part in disaster response missions. They put themselves on the front lines of the ever-changing pandemic. While sometimes, their missions change, the Guard remains committed to the communities in their state.
A little over a month ago, I received a call from someone who had gotten my number from one of the COPS officers I work with in my position as a homeless navigator in a D.C. suburb. COPS is a Department of Justice funded program that stands for “Community Oriented Policing Services.” The officers in this program function more like social workers. If they took their uniforms off and you listened to them, you wouldn’t know the difference. They are like my security detail. And we work together to find solutions for people undergoing crises and who may be homeless.
While my job has a fancy title, I’m really just a mobile caseworker. Many of my referrals occur when people are told, “Maybe you should talk with Mr. Williams so he can show you what’s going on with people experiencing homelessness.”
A woman named Meme reached out to me and asked about vaccination rates of unhoused people. I responded by saying I was sure it needs to be higher. She told me that with the recent surge in infections, she could help. I suggested she come on a ride along with me to see what might be done.
l had no idea what this would lead to but I always encourage people who are concerned about this issue to see it up close and personal. I want them to have the opportunity to see firsthand the plight of people experiencing homelessness as this issue continues to be misunderstood in the 21st century.
We set a date for a morning out and about in my assigned area. To give you an idea of how large this is —- it’s about one-third the size of the state of Rhode Island. So I was surprised when Meme told me that she was helping the Maryland National Guard get more involved in the fight against the newest surge of Covid-19. The Guard wanted to make certain the population I worked with had the same access to the lifesaving vaccinations as housed people.
I thought we’d have serious difficulties getting a group of untrusting people to trust us to not be an enemy, but view us as non-threatening. I shared with her how long that usually takes, and the serious doubts I had. But her sincerity and compassion as we spoke about the project kept me engaged. I soon became convinced that if she thought it could work, maybe I should find a way to help her for the good of the people in the homeless community and people who may come in contact with them.
So many people experiencing homelessness don’t care whether they live or die because there’s no sense to a life without much hope. I feel most homeless people including myself don’t trust the system to treat them with dignity and respect. Looking back on my own life, I think my own view of my worthiness got in the way of getting help. When you’ve been chronically homeless, it can be just as hard to accept that someone feels you’re worth caring about. So, we expect rejection and can often act out in ways that support our fears.
Most unhoused people have had nothing but negative interactions with the very agencies they need to help them and many view them as having had multiple chances already not realizing some peoples different learning styles. Some of us had to repeat similar life lessons over and over, which leads to feelings of worthlessness which makes it hard to trust.
So wouldn’t you know it on the scheduled date we were to do reconnaissance of the target area, it was raining cats and dogs.
As we made “the rounds,” Meme was really moved by what she saw and understood how her project could help unhoused people have the same access to the life saving shots so highly valued by so many in the community. The agreed date was my day to do outreach by handing out bag lunches anyway. This gave us the chance to speak with those out on the streets. Meme would also have an opportunity to talk with people experiencing homelessness about their vaccinations status and to my surprise, some people were very receptive. So we set a date and put a plan in motion.
With a MASH team of 10 soldiers dressed in civilian clothes and 2 COPS officers we set out at 8 a.m from a strip mall parking lot to find out if this would really work.
We had a great start as we approached a person who was sleeping in an encampment Our first customer was glad we came and told us how he just hadn’t gotten around to getting his shots yet. This encounter got us off to a great start.
Our next stop was a big box hardware store parking lot where mostly Hispanic day laborers —- many of whom are unhoused —- gather. We had planned ahead and our team was full of Spanish speaking personnel.
Then we headed to an apartment complex near a liquor store where all kinds of people hang out. And low and behold, people turned out to investigate why we were there. It was an encouraging omen of things to come that day.
Our next stop was at an older large shopping center, but the response was far beyond what any of us had hoped for. Maybe it was that the word had gotten out that there were cash incentives for getting vaccinated. But hey came and didn’t stop until I was just about out of money. I feared what the response would be if the word got out that there were no more pay days for getting shots. We were also giving out lunches prepared by a local senior living facility, fast food coupons from a civic-minded franchise owner along with a table full of donations of shoes and clothing, but make no doubt about it the cash payment is what drove them to us.
By the end of our day we had exceeded our expectations by vaccinating almost 40 individuals which set the table for a return to get them fully protected later in the next few months.
All in all it was a great experience for the guardsmen, some who were unaware of the real plight of the unhoused which allowed them to feel grateful and became allies against homelessness and in their random acts of kindness they gave me another chance to get closer to the people I serve. Their next vaccination drive is June 16 starting at 8 a.m. in Oxon Hill.
