House of Charity Episode 1

This post was originally laid-down on my personal blog, digitalagape.blogspot.com, but I feel like it's more appropos here:

Mostly, though, the House of Charity is an exercise in what fantastic beauty is squeezed out when you put enough people together in such a small space.

I'm serious.

I give a lot of tours where I work, and visiting the upstairs large dorm is always a highlight. 'Picture 84 men sleeping in the same space. It's a wonder there aren't more difficulties than there are.' I'm serious when I say it. Not that the area is packed, it's actually much more hospitable than any other grouping of 84 beds that I've ever seen, and much more sanitary. The staff at the House of Charity work extremely hard on that end. It's looking out and seeing the sleeping quarters of nearly ninety men all in one room that's humbling.

There's something to be said about space and how much people need it to themselves. During daytime services, the shelter I work at sees nearly 300 people come in the door, give or take. There's honestly no telling who will walk in next, be it a broke-down truck driver with a tobacco-stained mustache, or some kid younger than myself who's attempting to skip more class than he attends (high school, and as long as he's over 18, he's welcome at the HoC). Where I work transcends boundaries, all those physical, social, cultural norms that spring up when there's enough room and time for folks to get peace and quiet.

About the only cultural practice that seems to be salient through the House of Charity is the night-time rituals of slowing down that are so rarely seen in the college life. We open in the evenings, from 6 to 8pm, and men start going upstairs to bed at 7. Some play dice, some watch a bit of a movie on a portable DVD player, some read. Mostly, though, the men and women are slowing down from (often) a much longer work-day than I'm putting in, and are able to get some time to themselves. Some eat a bit--asking me to warm up a burrito they bought at the local Quik-Mart, or some fast food that they picked up on their way in.

Some have drank too much, and might totter, or talk too loudly, or otherwise disturb the peace. Most of the time these folks are hushed quickly by staff, or by other patrons. Sometimes they require coaxing, or a ride to DETOX, where they can sleep off whatever bender they find themselves on.

Once in a while when people have drank too much they're carried in by their sober friends. Mostly these guys just recognize what they'd like to have happen if the shoe were on the other foot, and sling their fallen comrade's limp arm over their shoulder, and set them where they won't tip.

It's in actions like these, where people who might literally have nothing in the world to their name save medical bills, and still take the time to help out those around them, that I'm impressed with my species, and with the earnest dignity of those so many look down upon, if they see them at all.