My Friend, the Voice of the Homeless

It was a sunny afternoon in October 2006 when I first met Tim.  Unfortunately, he and I had been neighbors for nearly a year before we even met.  At the time, I was living in a third floor apartment overlooking downtown Springfield, Illinois and Tim lived two blocks away on the sidewalk outside of the public library.  

Since I lived right in the middle of the city I was accustomed to running into the community’s homeless population and learned firsthand of their needs.  I tried to do what I could to help out when I was able (a meal here, a handful of change there), but I wouldn’t have necessarily referred to any of my homeless acquaintances as friends.  

Of course that changed when I met Tim.

My first meeting with Tim occurred because I went with a group of my friends to deliver sandwiches to the homeless folks at the library.  Tim was in his upper 40’s, short in stature, full beard, and wore a red ball-cap on his head.  When he was given a sandwich he asked, “What’s your schpill?”  And when we asked for clarification Tim said, “You know.  What do I have to listen to you say since you gave me this sandwich?”  He had a surprised look on his face when we told him we were just there to hang out.  And we did hang out.  We hung out for over an hour together.  We talked a lot about movies that first afternoon and the experience was so rich my friends and I pledged to return a week later with more sandwiches in hand.

So my friends and I returned the next week and the week after that and we returned almost every Sunday afternoon that followed for well over a year.  I got to know a handful of these homeless men and women very well:  Tim, John, Linda, Charlie, Michael, Bill, Stacy, Allen and about a dozen others.  While they were homeless, they made up a community and they served as each other’s surrogate family members.  This crew looked out for each other.  They found the resources to meet each other’s needs.  

And Tim, well,  he was known as their spokesman and their voice.  

Because I lived so close in proximity to this crew I found myself spending a lot of time with them throughout the week.  Tim was always prepared to greet me with a handshake and would often leave me with a hug.  Over hot chocolate in the winter and ice cold gatorade in the summer, Tim and I would sit and talk for literally hours at a time. There honestly were not very many topics that were left untouched.  Politics.  Faith.  Family.  History.  Current events. Veterans.  Health care.  We covered the entire gambit.  I got to know his stories and he listened to his fair share of mine as well.  

Often our conversations would turn to what it meant to be homeless, that the homeless were just people with stories like everyone else in the world.  He expressed to me on more than one occasion how much he appreciated the food and clothing that were provided to his community, but that the thing that mattered most to him and his neighbors was that we were willing to come, sit, and talk.  Tim taught me volumes about real social policy and what can be done to impact the lives of homeless individuals.  He spoke clearly on the need for showers, storage, and laundry facilities.  He talked more often of the need for mutual respect, sincerity, and a willingness to listen.

I remember the day Tim got off the street and moved into a place of his own.  I remember how proud he was to be able to invite me over to see his new digs and how he would remind me every time I left that his door was always open for the next visit.  

I remember the day a couple months later when he moved back to the sidewalk in front of the library.  I remember how he spoke of his calling to be an advocate for the homeless population and how he believed people would only listen to him if he was homeless again.

Over the last couple of years, Tim was interviewed dozens of times by the local news and media outlets.  He developed a voice that mattered to his community and a voice to which people were willing to listen. 

You can imagine how my heart sank when I heard from a common friend that Tim died a couple days ago.  With his death comes a vacancy that the homeless community in Springfield, Illinois will be hard-pressed to replace.  

If you asked Tim what his goal in life was, he would tell you he just wanted to help people.  He would probably go on to say something like, “If a wheel is squeaking long enough, eventually somebody is going to look and see why it issqueaking.”  Tim felt like he was supposed to be the squeaky wheel.  He was supposed to be the voice of the homeless.

Was Tim perfect?  

Nah, he would have been the first to tell you he wasn’t.  

Was Tim a man who impacted a lot of lives?  

Definitely.  Just ask any of the people who filled the room on the day of his funeral.

Was Tim my friend?  

Without a doubt.  

Comments

One Response to “My Friend, the Voice of the Homeless”

1. Michelle Korrell says:

   June 1, 2009 at 7:18 pm

   Daniel,

   I am sorry for the loss of your friend. You spoke of giants on your first post and it sounds to me like you have beautifully told the story of Tim, the giant, today. Through telling it, you’ve reminded all of us about mutual respect and the perspective that we are all humans, sometimes separated by little more than a choice, an event or unfortunate timing.