The Story of Mike: Part Two of Two
“My life was perfect”, Mike told me. “ I was married for 25 years, (before his wife passed away), and I paid for my two daughters to go through college so they wouldn’t have any debt.”
“I had it all, then one fall”.
“Then at fifty-seven I’m homeless and out on the street.”
For the entirety of Mike’s time in the hospital he was not allowed to put any weight on his legs - considered a status of non-load-bearing. The very day that his surgeon declared him weight-bearing again, he was given a walker and immediately discharged from the hospital.
I asked Mike if he remembered the moment he was discharged from the hospital, and realized that he was homeless.
“When I left the hospital I had nowhere to go,” Mike replied. “The hospital made arrangements for me to stay at Room In The Inn since I was on a walker,” he continued, “and provided transportation.”
Mike was dropped off at the entrance to Room In The Inn. With a bag full of his only belongings, Mike inched his way up the steep incline of the parking lot, roughly forty yards, to the front doors - only to realize that they were closed.
Fortunately there was someone there, who informed Mike that he was in the wrong place and directed him to the guest house, which was back down the parking lot, onto the sidewalk, and on to the end of the block.
For the next three months Mike lived in the guest house facility at Room In The Inn. Twice a week he had to go to Maharry (medical facility) for physical therapy. After months of therapy Mike was able to transition from a walker to a cane.
“It was a Wednesday,” Mike told me, when he transitioned from the walker to a cane. When he returned to Room In The Inn, he was informed that because he was no longer using a walker, he needed to be out by that Friday - after lunch.
“I’m like, where do I go?” he told me.
“I knew I wasn’t going to the mission… I had heard too many stories about that place.”
“I had $2.00 in my wallet.”
Even though Mike had grown up in Nashville, he spent his time outside of the city itself. Because of this he was completely unfamiliar with it. Eventually he made his way across the “pedestrian bridge” that leads across the river to Nissan Stadium.
“I found an area where there were these two trees that were about the [width of this room apart]”, Mike told me, “ and they hadn’t mowed in between them so there were tall weeds and a little indentation in the fence, and it was getting dark. So I laid down, and used my backpack as a pillow - and that’s where I slept that night, and I slept the next night and the next night there.”
During the day Mike would sit on a park bench reading one of the few books he brought with him from Room In The Inn, so he “didn’t look homeless, and I didn’t want to scare anybody.”
“I stayed there for about a week, or ten days, until someone else took my spot.”
With that Mike went in search of another spot, which he found about a half mile away. It was in a small children’s park that had slides and other activities, as well as a walkway that was made out of cushioned rubber instead of asphalt. He found that there was a subsequent rubberized pathway at the top of the eight-foot climbing wall, albeit much narrower and bordered by tall weeds and other vegetation.
For the next two years this would be Mike’s home. When it would rain he would transport his belongings, and himself to the area beneath the Veteran’s Bridge where he would sleep on the concrete.
Mike told me, as a side note, that he would take pieces of gummy candy and put them on the ground, above his head, and below his feet, to keep the ants from crawling on him during the night. I have heard from many who live on the streets that this is a significant problem - being eaten alive while they sleep.
As my conversation with Mike continued, he told me: “I would change my shirt so I didn’t look the same as I did yesterday, so by 7:30 in the morning I was looking legit.”
“And keep in mind, until I found out about Ken and Carol’s at CCF (Community Care Fellowship), I was taking my baths in the Cumberland River three times a week. I was using sand for soap.
I asked Mike how he found out about all of the services for people living unhoused. “Well there’s a book”, Mike told me, I finally got my hands on a book… I was starting to spend my days in the library because it was safe, and this is the version [of the book] I had when I was on the street.”
“And this tells you where every meal is, so this is the bible for homeless people.”
“How did it feel the first night you were in your apartment?” I asked Mike.
“So you wanna know what I did the first night I was here?”, Mike responded. “Jeff brings me over at eleven in the morning, Go through the whole thing, get my keys, come in here [the apartment]; so this is my entire night, I don’t have a TV, I didn’t have a couch. Jeff gave me an air mattress, which I still have under my bed.
As he’s talking Mike walks into the bedroom;
“so all I had was an air mattress, I had one book, I had my phone, and I just walked around. All night long”
With tears welling up in his eyes; “This is my place” “This is my place.” “Mine.” “All mine.” “Couldn’t even think about sleep!”
“Just… after two years of walkin’ around.”
As I wrote at the onset of this piece, in Part One, the story I have told here is only a fraction of Mike’s story. Since the initial interview I have talked with Mike again, at great length. His story not only sheds valuable insights for all of us to learn from, but he has also given me a much deeper understanding of living on the streets.
Mike’s story has also reminded me of how each of us can find hope - even in the smallest amounts, to keep us going each and every day; and the importance of having gratitude for every gift we are given - even when those gifts are easily hidden from us when life hits us hard.