In her suffering, she helps others

We headed into the trailer park to give dogs and cats free vaccinations for rabies. The Beasley Animal Clinic Veterinarian was there to not only give the shots, but also the proper paperwork and tags for the animals that belong to owners who are disabled or unable to afford vaccinations.

While knocking on random doors I met this woman. Patsy yelled for me to come in, so with a twist of the knob I saw that she was laying on the floor covered in a blanket. “I just got bad news," she told me as if she already knew me. As we talked she said that two of her family members were in a terrible car accident in Mississippi. “I don’t know if they will make it,” she said.

As the subject changed I quickly learned that she is disabled and suffering from liver failure. As we talked she told me that she has Hepatitis C, which she was born with.

I asked, “What did you do when you first found out that your liver was no longer working properly?” She told me, “I started drinking whiskey – that was years ago.” She then said that she has been sober for 13-years and works to help others who are battling alcoholism. While her symptoms make it hard for her to leave home, she talks to those who are suffering on her phone daily and nightly. She said with a smile, “I meet people who are struggling online and I freely give them my number. I will tell people I don’t even know to call me anytime. One person I talked to was contemplating suicide, I talked him out of it!”

With Hepatitis C symptoms can go unnoticed and be mild for years, even as the liver damage is slowly taking place. As the infection increases, the liver begins to fail and it is measured in stages by doctors. Loss of appetite and sever fatigue sets in and the body no longer functions as it once did.

Today, Patsy is at stage 4 liver failure.

“The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are.” - Joseph Campbell

Sad eyes in a third world country

I never aimed for the photos of children I took to come across as sad while in Haiti. In fact, most children smiled continuously and played exhaustively.

However, this shot of a young man with family and friends building a church in the background struck me as overwhelming sadness. I cannot explain what he was thinking, he just seemed so alone.

Anne Hathaway once stated, “Loneliness is my least favorite thing about life. The thing that I'm most worried about is just being alone without anybody to care for or someone who will care for me.”

Haiti is filled with over 10.3 million residents and is equal in size to the small state of Massachusetts. However, Haiti has nearly twice the population of Massachusetts. In case you’re curious, Massachusetts is the 7th smallest state in the United States when you look at the total square miles of land.

Of course the striking contrast of Massachusetts and Haiti... places like Boston are filled with high rises that hold populations in check while Haiti is filled with make shift huts made of mud and bamboo sometimes without doors.

A new home for Ms. Debbie

I have good news. We got Ms. Debbie into a house. She has a roommate, but she has her very own bed in her own room. She was so excited!

On the way to the house she saw that I had a box full of toothpaste, soap, toothbrushes, handmade hats and mittens. She started to dig through them and I said, “[laughing] Ms. Debbie, are you looking through my box of stuff?” She said, “I’m just getting some things I need.”

When she got out of the truck at her new house she had about 6 boxes of toothpaste, six toothbrushes, a hat and mittens. It’s funny because just last week we had a long talk about the need to brush her teeth. I guess she was listening.

I am so thankful she now has a bed. She has been sleeping under bridges for a very long time. That was never good for her asthma. She was just released from the hospital on Friday, so it made tonight even more special.

“Be grateful for the home you have, knowing that at this moment, all you have is all you need.” - Sarah Ban Breathnach

"I fell off a bridge one night"

“How did you land yourself in the motorized wheelchair,” I asked. “I was asleep on a bridge and I fell off one night,” he told me with sorrow in his eyes.

Brent, 61, is a paraplegic because of the accident on the bridge while homeless in a year that is now behind him. He heads to the Nashville Rescue Mission early each day to ensure that he will have a bed at night. He gets his bed ticket and carefully tucks it into his ID pouch that he wears around his neck. “Would you like a blanket,” I question. He quietly replies with a chuckle, “Well, we are not allowed to have one, but I guess I could sit on it and they would never know.” I then tell him my last blanket is pink. I laugh and I tell him, “That may get you beat up.” He laughs and says, “I better pass on that one.”

X Games mono skier Sam Danniels became a paraplegic at age 19 while mountain biking. In an interview with Elise Ballard in 2012 he stated, “While I was recovering, obviously, I had a lot of time to just lie there and think. I’d met other paraplegics before my injury, and I knew they weren’t doomed to a horrible life—not necessarily. So I almost had this eagerness to go out and see what the world had in store for me.”

The only problem is that we are not all made the same way. Not all of us have the same drive and our backgrounds are often filled with sorrow. 

He was battling the air and the air was winning

As he walked he kicked and punched at the cool air before him, yelling at someone who was not present. The yells grew louder as he came closer. He seemed so angry, but there was no one to be angry with. While I saw no one for him to hit or scream at, he did.

I started to walk towards him and slowly extended my hand, “Hey brother, I’m Scott. How are you?” He quieted his temper and quit throwing punches. When he shook my hand his palms were rougher than sandpaper. “How old are you,” I inquired. He looked to the side, “29… 29 going on 30.” I don’t know that he even knows his true age, but I would guess it was not 29.

“Would you like a blanket and some food,” I asked him. He responded, “You got a blanket?” I then asked him to follow me to my truck. He stood as I searched out a new blanket that he could carry with him. I then handed him a bag of food.

Philip K. Dick (1928-1982), a writer who often wrote about his own battles with schizophrenia, once wrote “What about the world of a schizophrenic? Maybe it's as real as our world. Maybe we cannot say that we are in touch with reality and he is not, but should instead say, His reality is so different from ours that he can't explain his to us, and we can't explain ours to him. The problem, then, is that if subjective worlds are experienced too differently, there occurs a breakdown in communication ... and there is the real illness.” 

Sleeping in warmth is something we take for granted

As my friend Jerry Craddock and I started to hand out sleeping bags, a crowd of homeless men quickly gathered. The excitement on a cold day was something that could be felt as the temperature outside was at a low 36.

One of the men who walked up was a little slower than the others in his step. He looked to be about 60 and was without gloves or even a blanket. He told us that he badly needed both.

We gave him a new pair of gloves that were given to me to specifically hand out to the homeless. We then gave him a sleeping bag and you could see the relief fall over his face as he knew he would be warm tonight.

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?” ― Ernest Hemingway

Fishing is relaxation for some

I saw him out of the corner of my eye as I drove over a bridge and decided to stop. I quietly walked up behind his secret fishing spot and captured him doing what he does best on a warm Thanksgiving afternoon. "How long have you come here to fish," I asked. He looked towards the water, "Oh, five or six years." I was curious what his catches were like and he told me, "I usually get little fish, more so then big ones." 

There is a certain relaxation to fishing that can not be matched. 

"Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after." - Henry David Thoreau 

He was freezing

He appeared to be a paraplegic. His hands were cupped and he was unable to fully extend each finger as he sat quietly in his wheelchair. Urine soaked his jeans, but it was doubtful that he knew and he likely needed a catheter and a bag.

Paraplegic’s are typically paralyzed from their chest down, unable to move their legs due to a spinal cord injury. A loss of bowel and bladder control is quite common for many who are paralyzed, which is why they are often equipped with a bag for such bodily functions.

A man who was happily talking to him and pushing him down the street told us that he lives in the Nashville Rescue Mission when he is not overly intoxicated, but enjoys to have a few drinks when he is able to. My friend and I worked feverishly to put a pair of donated gloves on his hands and then a toboggan on his head in an attempt to stay warm.

Before we left he extended his arms and pulled us in tight for a hug and a nod of his head. He did not speak one word, he simply smiled and hugged.

“Morning drew on apace. The air became more sharp and piercing, as its first dull hue: the death of night, rather than the birth of day: glimmered faintly in the sky. The objects which had looked dim and terrible in the darkness, grew more and more defined, and gradually resolved into their familiar shapes. The rain came down, thick and fast; and pattered, noisily, among the leafless bushes.” ― Charles Dickens

His wife died in surgery, life crumbled to a halt afterwards

He lost his wife a couple of years ago. She went in for a minor surgery and when they put her to sleep for the procedure, she never re-awoke. From there his life crumbled and he quickly lost everything as he slowly lost himself in grief.

He is from Manchester, Tennessee, but now lives on the streets of Nashville. 

George Eliot wrote, “Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.” The name George Eliot was a pen name for Mary Ann Evans, a Novelist in the 1800’s.

Prostitution feeding crack

She came to Nashville after getting married a number of years back. The marriage ended and she was soon on the streets.   Her speech was badly slurred and I asked, “What is your drug of choice?” She told me crack cocaine.

As we continued to talk a car drove by and she asked me to put away my recorder and camera. I asked why and she said, “That was my daughter, she’ll turn around and come back by to see what’s going on.”

I met Nicole by knocking on random doors of motels that most of us would never venture into the parking lot of, much less a room. The 40-year old woman is a prostitute and said that she makes about $1,000 per week. Of course, most of that is spent feeding her addiction which is out of control today.

I asked, “Is it a hard life that you live?” She looked down and responded, “Sometimes. You feel guilty for a while, then after a while you don’t. I’ve been out here a long, long time.” Struggling to find out why she prostitutes and uses crack I inquired, “Do you feel like your emotions are gone?” She looked up, “Yea, yea…” I came back with, “Is that ever a struggle in itself that you feel emotionless?”  She said, “Ummm, sometimes, yea.”

She told me that she left her family because of drug use and they no longer talk to her.

Addiction is a symptom of a bigger life problem or struggle. She never told me why she originally turned to crack and later prostitution to feed her addiction.

The great poet Edgar Allan Poe had the best statement I have ever read on addiction. He stated, “I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.” To me, that explains the unthinkable reason as to why so many spiral out of control. 

He mixes his daily food in a blender

My friend and I went to some of the dirtiest and darkest motels in Nashville and randomly knocked on doors. While doing so we met Mr. Jerry. He is 60-years old and has cancer in his mouth. 
About three years ago his teeth were removed along with part of his jawbone during treatment. Doctors used a bone from his leg to make a new jaw, but it left him unable to chew which required a feeding tube. I asked him where they got the bone from and he replied, “[Pulling up a pant leg] This is where they cut a section of the bone to use for my jaw [Pointing at a 6-inch scar just above his ankle]”. 

In late 2013 his feeding tube came out of his stomach, but Jerry did not want to go back to the hospital in fear of having another MRI. The Nashville native is claustrophobic and won’t have another MRI, but is open to other cancer treatment options, but has no one to turn to nor can he afford taxi trips to and from Vanderbilt Medical Center. The cancer is still active and his mouth is badly swollen and painful. 

After the feeding tube came out in 2013, he started blending his food in a blender to drink. As he talked he pulled up his shirt to show us where the feeding tube went in, “It healed and it now looks like I have two belly buttons [laughing].” He told me that he would prefer to drink Ensure instead of blending food, but does not have the money to pay for it. I told him not to worry, we would find folks to donate it. 

Jerry has not always been disabled. In his younger days he was married and worked for Ford Manufacturing in Georgia. However, he fell while working on machinery and broke his back. He still receives a small check from Ford for his injury, but it does not even cover the cost to rent a motel room. His state disability check helps to pay for the room. His marriage fell apart somewhere between Ford and cancer.

Despite his sadness of being all alone and ill, he still holds true to a love of cars. While he cannot drive and is wheelchair bound, he collects remote control cars. He often races them through his motel parking lot. He crashed one about a week ago and had to order a new part for it. “This car will do 100 actual miles per hour,” he said while holding up the instruction manual for it. 

The late president Franklin D. Roosevelt (1882 – 1945) once stated, “When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” Roosevelt new pain well. He suffered from Polio and despite becoming paralyzed at age 39 from the waist down, he refused to look at himself as being disabled. 

Liberty

“I’m afraid it will get down to about 29-degrees at night this weekend,” he told me with growing concern. I asked, “Do you have a sleeping bag?” He hesitated, “I do, but not a very good one.” I asked him what he meant and he then explained, “Well, someone gave me a sleeping bag, but it’s a children’s sleeping bag so it’s not very big.” I smiled as I gave him a brand new full sized adult sleeping bag and two new blankets. 

As we continued to talk he told me his name was Lucian and he is 56-years old. He then talked about how he once had a home, but lost it due to finances. It was the home that he grew up in and it once belonged to his parents. His brother no longer speaks to him because he lost the family home and is now homeless. His brother is upset about the loss of the house, according to Lucian. 

The grey bearded man now sleeps under a tree in downtown Nashville. He has no tent because he fears police will ask him to leave if he were to set up a tent. 

I let him dig through a bag of clothing that someone gave me and he picked out a few items, which made him smile from ear to ear. He also picked out clothing for a friend who sleeps in the same spot. I think that made him a little happier today as compare to yesterday. I love to be able to give items to homeless that they can pass along to others, I think it gives them a touch of dignity and grace. 

I once heard a quote Ambrose Bierce that reminded me of his fear to conquer such a little feat of setting up a tent that stated, “Liberty: One of Imagination's most precious possessions.” I realize the tent was not an imagination, but to imagine his fear of his liberty to set up a tent disturbed me as he was on a property that was out of the eye of the public. As for Mr. Ambrose Bierce, he was an American journalist who lived from 1842 to 1914.

Closed down factory

Inside an old and closed down factory in Nashville, Tennessee it looked as if some things were left behind and the workers ran out of the building in fear, like an old horror flick. Other areas were neatly cleaned in what looked to be an attempt to sell the property. However, the small offices within the the 250,000 square foot structure still had old paperwork sitting on bookcases. Safety glasses were next to a paper towel in the kitchen, toilet paper still hung in a bathroom stall and an office chair sat quietly covered in dust.

You sometimes see sadness in their eyes

You can see sadness in the eyes of so many.

I first met Jimmy in 2013 when a friend and I randomly knocked on the doors of a rundown motel. He was one of the many who invited us inside. At the time, his room was filled with Bibles and Christian study guides. That room was later broken into and his girlfriend had money and other valuables stolen. The two later moved out at the start of 2015.

Today they live in their very own apartment. The apartment is far nicer than the dingy motel room that they once called home. The Bibles still line the room along with Kathy’s collection of stuffed animals. But, I still see the sadness in their eyes upon each visit.

Jimmy will turn 46 in June of 2016.

American actress and singer Taraji P. Henson stated, “Every human walks around with a certain kind of sadness. They may not wear it on their sleeves, but it's there if you look deep.”

Plans fell through for Johnny Pops

This was my second time to photograph John Ross, age 68. Both he and his wife are homeless and living on the streets of downtown Nashville, Tennessee.

I remember the first conversation I had with him, he told me that everyone calls him Johnny Pops. He was born in 1947 and has a stern yet caring look about him.

Ross told me several weeks ago that he and his wife had a job offer to live on a farm in Indiana. However, those plans have since fallen through so it looks as if Mr. and Mrs. Ross will be out in the cold this winter. They currently sleep at a bus stop near the Tennessee Capital.

American businessman and poet Samuel Ullman (1840-1925) once stated, “Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.”

When I see elderly who are homeless I wonder what their future looks like and what it could look like. I often see a loss of enthusiasm for life in the aged who are without a place to live. However, Johnny “Pops” Ross still has that enthusiasm, I just wonder how long the spunk will last on the cold streets. I wish I could offer a solution to their situation, but I don’t have one.

Would you like for me to tell your sister you are okay?

He was standing by himself in front of a closed business when I saw him, kind of walking in circles. “Do you need a sleeping bag?” I asked. “Well, I probably do,” he told me.

We talked for a while as we sat on the front of the business under a light that illuminated the front parking lot. “Do you have any family,” I asked with curiosity. He got a little glimmer in his eyes as he stated, “I have a sister named Sandra that I have not seen in 15-years, she’s in Chicago.” He told me he did not have a phone nor did he know how to contact her. I asked, “Would you like for me to try to find her and tell her you’re okay?” He smiled and responded, “Sure that would be great – if you can find her, she may have a different last name now.”

Dwayne told me that he is 49 years old and once called Chicago home. However, he told me that he has been all over the place and has lots of past areas in our nation that he called home at one point or another.

I wondered what made Dwayne tick, why was he homeless and what his past looked like. “Do you have any issues with schizophrenia or other mental illnesses,” I questioned. He chuckled, “Not that I have been diagnosed with,” he replied with a smile.

American journalist Lisa Ling once stated, “There's so much grey to every story - nothing is so black and white.”

His high school GPA was 3.5

Andrew is originally from Texas. He moved to Nashville shortly after graduating high school with a 3.5 GPA. He told me that he wanted to go to college, but his dad would not sign any paperwork to help him get a student loan. I asked why and he said, “I don’t know, he said he didn’t want his information on any paperwork?”  

The 25-year old is currently living under a bridge. I was able to supply him with a new sleeping bag and a tent thanks to donations. 

Does he still have the dream and determination to go to college? I don’t know? 

“You have to dream before your dreams can come true.” - A. P. J. Abdul Kalam

Vietnam Veteran lost both legs, but helps others daily

He had five brothers and as he described himself, he was the only rebel in the family. He later became a Combat Engineer in the U.S. Marines. Tim Lee later found himself in the heat of South Vietnam.

Lee was raised in a Christian family and thought his life was in order, but he said he went to Vietnam out of the reach of God. 45-Minutes into walking a mind field on what is called a mind sweep in Vietnam he was blown about several feet into the air losing both legs. Another Marine told him that it looked as if someone dumped a 5 gallon bucket of red paint on him while discussing his injuries. In fact, it was thought he was dead.

Lee writes, “There was much confusion. One man, Corporal Lee Gore, knelt down and picked me up in his arms and braced my back on his knees. He began to pray out loud. I was shaking terribly and literally covered in my own blood. The smoke and dust from the blast was still thick in the air. Men began to shed their t-shirts to help soak the blood flowing profusely from my wounds. Some gave their personal bandages. The Corpsman began working feverishly applying tourniquets to my upper thighs to stop the blood flow. In a weak, barely audible voice I prayed, “Oh no! … God, not my legs … Lord … please … God get me home to Mom and Dad …I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” Then, total blackness. I went out. Yellow smoke from the marking grenades to help guide the in-coming choppers billowed upward. I remember hearing the faint sounds of the whirling blades as they raised ten tons of steel into the air. Myself and a South Korean Marine, who had lost a foot in a separate explosion, left a violent world below. We were flown to the hospital ship USS Sanctuary in the South China Sea. From there I was taken to Guam.”

Lee stated, “God spared my life.” Someone once told Lee, “You never lived until you almost died.” From the day Lee left the hospital in the early 1970’s, he still holds onto that saying.

In high school, Lee ran track and he was also on the football team. His new life would include wheels and no running. However, he decided while hospitalized that despite his ability to ever make another touchdown, he was going to lead a positive life. Lee said that he got back on track with God and eventually became a pastor in 1973.

A grandmother and her peek-a-boo grandson

Having a positive family during your ups and downs in life is a big deal that most of us either take for granted or don't have at all.

In foreign countries like Korea, families cling together out of support and seldom separate from their children the way that separation is seen in America.

According to the non-political organization known as Asia Society, “Koreans adhere to traditional Confucian principles of family organization. Confucius (6th century B.C.) and his followers taught that only a country where family life was harmonious could be peaceful and prosperous.”

“A man should never neglect his family for business.” - Walt Disney

Life is not always glory filled

Between dirty roach infested motels, battling cancer and life – some people do not choose the course they are on. Circumstances place them there.

Imagine battling an illness that is winning and sometimes sleeping on a bed and other times, sleeping on the street. That is life for many that we overlook.

“When you hear the word 'cancer,' it's as if someone took the game of Life and tossed it in the air. All the pieces go flying. The pieces land on a new board. Everything has shifted. You don't know where to start.” - Regina Brett (American Author)