Remembering George Porter & Carol Laseko
Giving Shelter by Turning Tables
By Carl Mazza

Again this fall our attention at Meeting Ground has been drawn back into consideration of things most important. Last summer we faced the sudden, unexpected death of three much loved residents. In the last month the loss of two others who were active members of our community has caused many of us to reflect on what it is that we do together that is most important -- for homeless persons, surely, but also for the many others who take part.

George Porter was a good friend, a resident at Clairvaux Farm, who had been essentially homeless for over two decades. He died of cardiac arrest in Union Hospital on October 23. George was not ill until a few days before going into the hospital, and he literally had to be begged into the process of getting help. He always asked so little for himself.

In the mid-1980s when our community was strongly involved in the city of Wilmington establishing Friendship House as a daytime homeless help center, he was right in the thick of things. King George, as he was known, was a fixture in the South Market Street neighborhood. He came to the old thrift store almost every day and was always working. He would straighten shelves or clean racks of clothing, whatever needed to be done.

George was distinguished because he was endlessly pleasant, always smiling in a quick, witty rapport with anyone who would joke with him. This is not to say that he did not wrestle with serious and deeply-rooted problems. All was not so totally pleasant and upbeat in his life. In spite of his difficulties, George was always a welcome and cheerful presence. He certainly knew what it was like to live in a shelter, but through his hard work and bright spirit he constantly helped create "shelter" for others. He worked hard to make our communal living space as clean and nice looking as possible. Even now, over a decade later, all of us who knew him as well as a resident of Clairvaux Farm benefitted from these same beautiful characteristics. When he went into the hospital a number of routine jobs at the Farm which had for a long time been taken for granted as being done by "somebody," were suddenly piling up -- mute testimony to his valuable service. George's quiet, sincere and loving labor is missed very much.

Carol Laseko was never homeless. She first came to Meeting Ground about eighteen months ago as a volunteer. Shortly after becoming involved she found out that she had terminal cancer. After a long and truly heroic struggle, she also died in last month (Oct. 5). Even with the onset of her illness, she became more and more connected to the community at Meeting Ground. She would visit when she could, but mainly she expressed her help through phone calls, kind words of encouragement, and other material support from a distance. To many of us, Carol personified the unbroken circle of love which exists between human beings, whether homeless and housed.

It was a homeless former resident of Clairvaux Farm, the late Mel Woolsey, who brought Carol to us, even though he did not know her when he was alive. Mel's death last year left a huge gap in our hearts, and sadness became a resident at Meeting Ground as we remembered all the kindness and cheer he brought to us which we, in our grief, thought would undoubtedly be gone forever. We were wrong. Shortly after his death, Mel's daughter Melody began volunteering, then his son Mike arrived and became an important part of the community. Before long, Carol came, first visiting with Melody for an Easter egg hunt at the Farm on a beautiful Palm Sunday afternoon.

Carol's funeral reminded me a lot of Mel's. There were tearful, moving tributes of all she had meant in the lives of friends and family. Persons close to her felt particularly enriched in the last weeks of her life as she approached her inevitable death; she grew in strength and shared this deepened faith with all around her -- even as did Mel. We have learned, through repeated testimony of this kind, that it is not the fact of our death, which we all hold in common, which likens us together as human beings, but the enormous gift of love which gleams always in us--made more fine and resilient in times of sadness, even through what appears to be hopeless tragedy.

This fall Action for the Homeless, our statewide advocacy organization in Maryland, has called for a bold new initiative to: End Emergency Shelter in Maryland. We were surprised when we first learned of this at Meeting Ground, yet very happily so. Since our inception back in 1981-82 we as a community have been asking the question in this way: "When we say we are a shelter, what do we mean? Whom are we sheltering and why? What is it that we offer when we say that give 'shelter'"?

Over the last decade and a half many throughout the country have been convinced of the limitations of what has been called emergency shelter. Those involved in helping have begun to realize that real movement of persons out of homelessness almost always takes real time. The specific period depends on many factors, and is different for each homeless person or family. Ultimately, the most important resolutions which any of us require are spiritual in nature, and these call for a wide berth of latitude and patience.

One of the difficulties in moving toward a new concept of helping end homelessness has been the negative reaction from people who are sincerely and energetically engaged in the effort of emergency shelter. In calling for an end to this kind of mission, Action for the Homeless is really asking for a thoughtful reconsideration of what help we are really offering to homeless persons. It is asking us to challenge such policies as arbitrary limits (usually 30 or 60 days), shelters only open during the winter season, and the strategy of housing homeless persons in motel rooms for short periods of time. While these provide quick and needed relief in crisis, what happens to the person or family when they have exhausted their help and are still homeless?

It is important to note that even while the call to End Emergency Shelter is being made, AFTH rightfully recognizes the need for such places for many who are chronically homeless and have great difficulty living apart from a structured environment. Nevertheless, Action has challenged us to seriously consider that, "for an overwhelming number of people who are homeless, the services people need will not be met in traditional emergency shelters."

What is behind this initiative? Why is it coming now? I believe it is the growing realization that the complexity of the homeless problem in our society and in the lives of individuals and families, being material and spiritual in nature, demands a more holistic response. Our impulse immediately to put a roof over a shelterless head or food into an empty stomach is not wrong, but when we tire of that effort, losing patience with its limits, or the person's time runs out, where then is the help? Shelter of the soul involves restoring the aspect and strength of human community and gradually diminishing the differentiation between persons who are homeless and those who are housed. After all, homelessness is not like a birthmark which can never be altered or eradicated. It is for most people a temporary incident, and for many, not as much a result of their own shortcomings as the failure of our society to catch up with changing economic and social realities of the modern world. It is not just for homeless persons that the cost of housing has skyrocketed. Persons of low, and even moderate income, are finding it increasingly difficulty to afford decent housing.

George and Carol left us with a dear legacy--not one of death, rather of persistent faith in the power of everyday living. A person may be rich or poor, it does not matter. The presence or absence of money in itself will not offer a dint of nurture for a spirit starved for friendship, or the least presence in loneliness. Those who have tried to measure their self-worth by monetary or material accumulation must know the pitfall of such an outlook, and, as well, persons who are poor surely can and must rise above a false sense of unworthiness which society imposes for failing to accumulate enough personal wealth. Rich and poor alike need friends, the warmth of community, and the satisfaction of unconditional self-worth and dignity.

Making a space which allows these qualities to flourish is the only one which can truly be called shelter. Anything short of this remains mere, insubstantial "care giving." What is wrong with this noble human aspiration to nurture and protect another? On the surface it appears nothing, but we must question what such well meaning charity offers a person who yearns to stand firmly on her own two feet, seen by herself and others as a giver and not a taker.

Yet finally, when all is said and done, we remember those who have died through the gift of their very life, by which we have been so enriched. We are blessed, not by recalling all we did for them, but by lovingly looking back on all they gave to us. We surely remember Carol that way and George as well, even though some may have considered him to be chronically homeless. In the end we will all be known by One Name and our true achievement will only be measured in that by which we have blessed others. If we would help another person we must concede room for their generosity, as well as ours, and offer those, who appear so needy, the privilege also to be givers.

In the real world, how do we do this? After all, most of us find it much easier to perform a specific, immediate and concrete service to help another person. Can we continue offering such aid and at the same time still learn to encourage such intangibles as space and patience? In the end, I think, this task can only be performed by the release of that aspect of our human nature which is most sublime and beautiful, the part of us which allows other persons the right to give to us as fully and freely as we would give to them.

It is a prized art of good teachers, parents, counselors, and friends-all in our own lives who have so skillfully and mercifully taught us the happiness of an unselfish heart. So then, if we would be true givers we must humbly allow ourselves also to receive. If we want to shelter, we must create and allow the space for those for whom we wish to care to turn the tables of charity and shelter us as well.