Often on Thursday mornings I volunteer at a local church in a poor neighborhood in Griffin, GA, the town in which I live. Since the mills closed and moved overseas about 15 years ago, Griffin has offered little employment to its former millworkers. Its unemployment rate is among the highest in Georgia, which itself has the highest unemployment rate of any state in the country. I interview clients for the church’s food pantry ostensibly to check their eligibility, but I’m really there to hear and be inspired by their stories and to affirm to these victims of systemic injustice that they are important, that they matter, that I consider it a privilege to have met them.
John Horton (this and the other names here are fictional, but the stories are not) is a homeless 47 year old man living in woods behind an abandoned storefront in Griffin, GA. He spent most of his life in Savannah, GA, where he owned a business that employed nine people in restoring Savannah’s 18th and 19th century homes for their owners. He did well until one of his clients refused to pay $41,000 for renovation work John and his employees had done.
After fruitlessly trying for two years to get his well-connected client to pay, John decided to take matters into his own hands. He set his client’s home on fire. John was convicted of arson and attempted murder. I’m not sure what his original sentence was, but after five years he was released for good behavior.
But there were conditions to his release. After he was imprisoned, John’s wife stole everything he had. Upon his release, she feared retaliation and complained to the parole board. John’s release was conditional upon his moving to Griffin and never returning to Savannah. So John arrived in Griffin, a depressed mill town where the mills had closed and moved and where unemployment was nearly the highest in Georgia, which had the highest unemployment rate in the country. While in prison, he had become diabetic and epileptic. Because of his epilepsy, it was difficult, even dangerous, for him to use the tools of his trade. Consequently, in spite of his skills, no business would hire him because of the liability. He has twice been turned down for disability and has essentially nothing to live on, relying entirely on local food pantries and charity organizations, friends who drop off food, and a kind pharmacist who donates medicines.
In spite of his misfortune, John is articulate, upbeat, and hopeful. Told his attitude is inspiring, he asks why. He says he understands he did wrong and deserves what has happened. But he does express concern about those who suffer worse than he has and did nothing to deserve it. He seemed moved when I assured him that I considered it a privilege to have met him.
Howard Camron is a homeless 60 year old man living in a wooded lot at the end of a dead end street of poorly maintained rental duplexes in Griffin, GA. He had lived and worked in North Carolina as a weaver in a mill, making a liveable wage, until the mill closed. He moved to Griffin and began working here as a weaver. When all the mills in Griffin closed, he worked in construction, doing virtually everything from layout to framing to roofing, to finish carpentry work, eventually working his way up to foreman of a construction crew. He also worked for a while as a landscape designer and a short order cook. When the recession hit and he lost his construction job, he took any kind of work he could get, mostly minor home repair, painting, minor auto repairs, and yard work.
Six months ago he got a DUI and lost his drivers’ license for a year. Though he has a truck he has used to get to work, he can’t drive due to the suspended license, so he has been limited to working within walking distance of his of his rental apartment in an impoverished neighborhood. Unable to earn enough to pay rent, he was forced onto the streets.
Howard arrived at my smiling, cracking jokes, and carrying his backpack. When I told him I did not know how I would persevere under such circumstances, he assured me, “The Lord takes care of His own; He will take care of me.” He said he was more concerned about a black friend living in a tent near his who was losing his eyesight, had repeatedly fallen unexpectedly, and would occasionally yell incoherently for minutes at a time. As I had with John and do with virtually all my clients who have been beaten down by circumstances, I told him I considered it a privilege to have met him.
Letitia Moore is a 67 year old grandmother, living with and caring for her 68 year old husband, Frank, and her granddaughters, age 12 and 14. Her husband has numerous health problems, including severe diabetes, failing eyesight, balance problems which often lead to his falling unexpectedly, and sores all over his arms and legs. A Vietnam veteran, he sees VA doctors, who attribute his health problems to exposure to Agent Orange. Letitia herself has recently had knee replacement surgery. Her 38 year old daughter from Kansas had taken a leave from work to care for Letitia, Frank, and her two nieces. Now that the daughter had had to return to work, Letitia was struggling to take care of her household, particularly Frank, while still sore and visibly limping.
Letitia’s household lives entirely on Frank’s roughly $1250 disability check and about $80 per month worth of food stamps, more income than most of the clients I see, but certainly not enough for a household of four and a monthly rental bill of $750.
Unlike many clients, Letitia began talking even before I asked any questions. When I wondered how she and her family made it on so little income, she smiled and said, “The Lord takes care of us.” She was so moved by my listening to her, affirming her, and praying for her that she tearfully hugged me before she left my office.
So on this Armistice Day (a day to celebrate peace, not war and military power), I want to say that these people—John, Howard, and Letitia--are my heroes. Beaten down by an unjust system, denigrated, ignored, even despised by more fortunate neighbors, they are amazingly resilient, persevering with faith and hope, even with a smile and a laugh. Though I, like them, am a follower of Christ, I must confess to being envious of their simple but powerful faith. They are an inspiration.