Story Archives 2002

by Isabel Estrada/ PNN Youth in the Media Intern

Scott Sloan and I have been traveling 2 1/2 hours by bus from his house on 55th street to the Excell nursing home on High and Virginia streets in Oakland. Scott Sloan is used to this ride because he does it twice a week to visit his mother Mrs. Beatrice Sloan at Excell nursing home. My camera is in my pocket. I’m ready to take pictures but I’m a little hesitant because I have a feeling the hospital is in on the scandal that the Sloan family has been dealing with for the last year including an eviction from their own family home, lead poisoning, inhabitable living conditions and much more. There must be some reason why Mary-Lou Griffin, Mrs. Sloan’s public guardian didn’t want a San Francisco Chronicle photographer to come out to the nursing home with us.

Excell is a monument to dingy whiteness with accents of pale blue. The building is small and it recedes from the street as though trying to escape from the sun.

There are a few elderly people wheeling themselves around, looking blankly ahead. When we walk into Mrs. Sloan’s room, there are four beds, one in every corner. In each there is a tiny woman barely visible under the pale blue blankets. I make a mental note to remember to tell my unborn children that I’ll beat them with my cane if they ever try to put me into a nursing home.

Though Mrs. Sloan can barely speak, when her son asks her if she wants to go home she nods affirmatively and squeezes out a small "yes." Then when he continues to ask her she gets a sad, distant look on her lined face, she knows that she’s not going to be going home. At least if Mary-Lou Griffin gets her way. Scott Sloan says that though Mrs. Sloan cannot speak, he knows that she is happier at home. At home she can watch T.V. and be visited by her over thirty great grandchildren who kiss her, hug her, try to make her eat, play with her hair, talk to her and love her for being the original source of their young lives. Scott Sloan has made it clear to all her great-grandkids, "if it wasn’t for her [Mrs. Sloan] there wouldn’t be no you." He says, "they know how to treat her." In the nursing home she has only white walls, pale blankets and feeding tubes to comfort her.

Scott Sloan, who says he will "be 66 in August, if this don’t kill me," turns into a little kid around his mother, caressing her head and asking, "what’s up mama, huh? Whatcha doing?" in an uncharacteristically soft voice. He tells me of how his mother, who is now skin and bones, weighed 190 lbs. in her prime, "she was a big woman." The admiration makes Scott Sloan stand a little taller. She knew the importance of family. She didn’t just limit herself to caring for her children. She was her whole family’s mama. When she found out that one of her nephews was living on the street she immediately swooped him into her house, clothed him and fed him. No matter her own situation, she wouldn’t stand to see any of her family suffering.

When I ask the male nurse whose attending to Mrs. Sloan and the three other women in the room about what care she’s getting here that she couldn’t get at home, he says that the only thing she needs is 24 hour care. His duties he says are to crush up her pills and give them to her, keep her feeding tube supplied when she needs to be fed, change her diaper and care for her wounds. I assume she also needs to be bathed. Scott Sloan’s response is: "we can do the same thing at home, all the nieces I got, shoot." Mrs. Sloan could receive all this care at home, as she was before Mary-Lou Griffin stepped in as her conservator, but she could also receive the love and respect of her family who all know, "if it wasn’t for her there wouldn’t be no you."

So why isn’t Mrs. Sloan at home? Because according to Scott Sloan, two months ago Mary-Lou Griffin said "She will not be back home. She’s going to a rest home, I will see to that." And why is it that Public Guardian Mary-Lou Griffin –a woman with short dark her, hard lines etched into her face and an upturned nose- who works for the Alameda County Social Services has the right to keep Mrs. Sloan away from her family?

It all started in 1987 when Mrs. Beatrice Sloan, who had been diagnosed as Bipolar, stopped taking her medication (lithium), suffered from a breakdown and was interned at the hospital. Mrs. Sloan’s doctor recommended that her daughter Luella Williams become her temporary conservator until Mrs. Sloan had recovered. Ms. Williams cared for her mother after the breakdown but did not become her conservator until 1994. She was planning to end her conservatorship because Mrs. Sloan’s doctor said it was no longer needed, when she received a court order to present an account of the state of Mrs. Sloan’s assets. When she turned in the account the court said that it was not done professionally. So Luella Williams got the accounting done professionally and turned it in to her lawyer. But when Williams’ lawyer did not turn the new account in on time, the court took the conservatorship and gave it over to Alameda County.

The original conservator was a Mr. Ford, then came Sydney Martinez and finally Mary-Lou Griffin took over in October of 2001, right after Luella Williams passed away. Already in 1997 Alfred Fisher, who acts as the Estate Manager and Investigator for the Alameda County Social Services sold one of Mrs. Sloan’s 4 houses. No reason was given to Mrs. Sloan's children and they didn’t even see any For Sale signs up. I met Alfred Fisher; he is a thin African-American man with nervous eyes and a demeanor that seemed to sway like a tree under harsh winds. He gave me a bad feeling from the beginning and I was amazed to find that he is a preacher at a storefront church at 8901 MacArthur St. in Oakland.

Now Mary-Lou Griffin says that Mrs. Sloan either needs to be in a nursing home, which is $5,939 a month or she needs a 24-hour in-home nurse, which could cost 25,000 a month. Griffin says that the $5,939 cannot be paid for without selling Mrs. Sloans last two properties, one is where Scott Sloan has lived for 15 years and the other is housing Richshalda Williams, Mrs. Sloans granddaughter. So Griffin wants to evict Mrs. Sloans’ family from Mrs. Sloans houses so that she can sell it, and can pay for Mrs. Sloan to lie in a depressing, dingy white nursing home, without any T.V., until she passes away. But this is not just another example of bureaucratic injustice There’s something wrong with the whole picture.

Up until a few weeks ago, Richshalda Williams, Luella Williams’ daughter, received update calls twice a week from a nurse at Excell and was even informed by a woman who works at the home that Mrs. Sloan could leave the facility at any time. However when Richshalda Williams asked Mary-Lou Griffin when Mrs. Sloan would be back, Griffin got uptight and told her that Mrs. Sloan would not be going home and that Richshalda Williams better speak to the doctor. After that the doctor said that Mrs. Sloan could not go home, the nurse stopped calling Richshalda Williams and the women who had said Mrs. Sloan no longer needed to be in the facility had changed her story.

I just found out that Mary-Lou Griffin has now sent a letter to both Mr. Scott Sloan and Richshalda Williams letting them know that that their rent will be increased from under about $600 a month to $2000, effective May 1st. And this is despite the fact that Scott Sloan’s granddaughter has lead poisoning from the house and Alfred Fisher, who has known for a year that the house has dangerous amounts of lead, hasn’t made any repairs.

Scott Sloan had surgery for cancer of the brain in 1987. He can’t sleep because he stays up at night thinking of his mother in the nursing home and the fact that Alameda County is trying to sell his own mother’s house that he has been living in for 15 years. He recently suffered from a stroke because of what is happening to his family and to his mother, who used to be so big, who never took any shit from anybody. So while Scott Sloan, as a 65 year old disabled man, should be taking it easy he knows that his only option right now is to fight for his family.

I’m just glad when we leave the nursing home. The place smells of old sheets and dirty hair, and every once in a while an incoherent scream will jump out at you from behind the curtain in one of the rooms. Scott Sloan and I agree loudly and wholeheartedly that we’re never going to be put in any rest home. But apparently it’s not that easy. Mrs. Sloan is obviously unhappy in the rest home without the comfort of her family, and her family sure doesn’t want her there and yet there she lies because Alameda County thinks that some woman named Mary-Lou Griffin knows what’s best for her. Under those nightmarish pale blue blankets in that neon light, Mrs. Sloan squints as she looks around. Scott Sloan says that she’s looking for her grandbabies

by Emilio Guiterrez and Lisa Gray-Garcia/PNN

It was late.. perhaps a little over when I should be getting to bed – but the call sounded urgent- and after all it was my sisters’ youngest daughter on the end of the line. "Uncle Fred, I know its late but can I stay there tonite, I have nowhere to go and I can’t sleep on the street another night."

That’s all she said and then the phone was silent, a deep, precious silence, implying so much. Speakin’ of a life spent without a mama or even a decent papa, no-good men after no good men, alongside money troubles and lost children. My niece was not perfect nor was she sober, but she was family and therefore I would open my door to this child once again. "Come outa the cold before it gets any later" I whispered.

"Thank-you, Uncle" Click

Lissa, my niece, only stayed at my house for one night, enough time to get one nights sleep, a shower and a hot meal. Before breakfast the next morning she was gone like a wisp of string in the night sky.

That was a six months ago. Last week I received an official letter from The Housing Authority. I wasn’t sure why I should feel nervous. I paid my rent on time. I cleaned up around my apartment. I mean what had I ever done but be too poor to ever move my family out of the projects, something I will always regret, something I will always live with. Then I opened the letter. "You are officially served with notice to move…." There were more words citing the "illegal stays by a person under the influence, based on the One Strike Policy" I dropped the letter.. as though it was made of concrete instead of underweight county-issue paper. I will not be able to fight this, I don’t even know who to call, or what to do.. or most importantly..where to go

Emilio Guiterezz, a disabled elder of Samoan and Chicano descent, currently resides in a building run by the Housing Authority of Sacramento, Ca. He co-wrote this piece with Lisa Gray-Garcia as part of POOR Magazine’s writer-facilitation program which aims to give very low and no-income folks a voice in the media about issues of poverty

************************

"One Strike" Policy is Jim Crow!
Oakland InPDUM Protests Federal Eviction Law at
Oakland Housing Authority
by Oaktown Uhuru News

"Drug Activity is in the White House, not the
Projects!" and "Evict George and Jeb Bush!" read some
of the signs held by demonstrators on Monday, April
1st in front of Oakland Housing Authority. The Oakland
branch of the International People's Democratic Uhuru
Movement (InPDUM) held a press conference and
demonstration in protest to the Supreme Court ruling
last week to uphold the "One Strike" policy.
Participating organizations included Just Cause
Oakland, the National Coalition for Black Reparations
in America, the African People's Solidarity Committee
and Poor News Network.

On March 25th, the Supreme Court unanimously ruled
that public housing tenants can be evicted for their
relatives' or visitors' suspected drug activity, even
if it occurred without their knowledge. The ruling
upheld the federal eviction law for federal subsidized
housing operated by the Department of Housing and
Urban Development and local housing agencies such as
the Oakland Housing Authority.

Four African residents of Oakland's public housing
challenged the law. According to the Oakland Housing
Authority, nearly 80 percent of public housing
residents are black.

Oakland president of the InPDUM Bakari Olatunji
spelled out the contradiction in this blatantly
vicious law, "African people are already victims of a
drug economy we do not control. The government has
used the drug economy to lock up over one million
black men and to justify killing African people. Now
this same government wants to use the presence of
illegal drugs to justify making entire families
homeless. President Bush lives in public housing and
his daughters have used drugs. Is he on the streets?"

Passersby on Harrison St. honked their support at the
demonstrators which also included Jervis Muwwakkil,
whose son Jamil Muwwakkil was beaten to death by six
Oakland Police Officers last year. His death was
justified by the OPD because of the presence of drugs
in Muwwakkil's system.

Stated Wendy Snyder, a member of the African People's
Solidarity Commmitee, "White people make up the
majority of the drug users in this country and yet
white people can sit up in our homes in Berkeley and
Mill Valley and use drugs and not get thrown in jail.
There has been and continued to be so much unnecessary
suffering. We must build a movement of white people's
reparations to the African community."

Eddie Ytuarte of Just Cause Oakland discussed Oakland
Housing Authority's other unfair practices while
N'COBRA denounced the law and called for participation
in the August "Millions for Reparations March" in
Washington D.C.

The International People's Democratic Uhuru Movement
is calling for all concerned individuals and
organizations to come together to take on this issue
and other blatant violations of the democratic rights
of the African community. Contact oak_inpdum@yahoo.com
or call (510) 569-9620.

by Mari- Youth in the Media Intern (and Po' Poet)

Young, African descendant, writer and artist…..I met him the first time in Community Newsroom at POOR Magazine, his name is Charles Jolivette. He was introduced as a special guest to talk about a book he wrote called Making Luv 2 Freedom. The title caught me off guard. I had to look at the book's title to make sure I heard him correctly.

After Newsroom, I was assigned to do a review on his book so I started by reading it. The cover of the book is a piece of beautiful, hard-hitting artwork. The art seems to represent the struggles that all people go through, such as hunger, love, materialism, incarceration and capitalism. In the middle of the image there is a picture of a pen. To me that represents how a person’s struggle and their source of freedom is attained through writing. The cover art was done by Charles’ girlfriend, Maria Allardo.

After I read the book, I interviewed Charles Jolivette, we discussed many issues, one of which was the title of his book, Making Luv 2 Freedom. "I wanted something catchy, something that sounded patriotic, suggestive, and sexual. A title that would grab your attention and interest you to buy the book"

I asked him what motivated him to write. He said, "Seeing people struggle, lack of consciousness in other people’s writing, and my own struggles"

I asked him to comment on his writing, "My poetry is abstract. It’s not about what you see, but what you get"

I was amazed by the consciousness and deep thought that Jolivette put into his poems. One of my favorites was entitlled, Call Me Crazy because it deals with issues of slavery, racism and indigenous peoples, to name a few, and as well, he integrated Spanish and Filipino words into the poem.

An excerpt from "Call Me Crazy."

Call me crazy but I think they stole our babies

In slavery they made me

But decapitated my family tree

So I’m searching east and west

And climbing hills and smelling breath

Investigating

The walks of natives to earth

My people were here first

So, I deserve to kiss the dirt

Makin luv to Freedom is a great book to read. It opens your mind to other thoughts, ideas, and cultures. I urge everyone to read this book. It talks about issues of racism, capitalism, sexism, and the struggles of all oppressed people of this land. The objective of his book is to open people’s hearts, minds, and souls. In Charles’ own words "I want people to be conscious of history and the future"

For more information or to purchase the book go on-line to rap4rights@aol.com

by Michael Steinberg

Grace Well, a disabled very low income 85 year old African American woman in San Francisco, has been fighting an eviction brought by an out of state landlord for almost two years now. Since 1989 Ms. Wells has lived in her flat at 908 Page Street, one block off Haight in the city's Western Addition. She's been in the neighborhood, once an African American working class community, since the 1940s.     

In July 2000 June Croucher--whose address is listed by the SF Assessor's office as P.O. Box 50533, Reno, Nevada 89513--bought Grace Wells' home. Shortly before that the long term tenant who lived in the flat above Ms. Wells passed away. It's still vacant, with one front window fully thrown open to the elements, offering Ms. Croucher every opportunity to move in there, but June Croucher isn't satisfied with just one flat. She wants both of them so she can convert the building into her own personal mansion. And she has to throw Grace Well out on the street and make Ms. Wells' life a nightmare to get her SF dream house, well business is business.     

The only problem with Croucher's plan is that Grace Well refuses to move. And she's gotten a lot of support in her fight to keep her home. That support was apparent on Thursday, March 21, when over 30 of her backers rallied in front of Ms. Wells' home and threw up a picket line to inform neighbors and the media of her struggle.      

The action also attracted three SFPD black and whites, whose officers lurked around the block. Demonstrators carried signs reading "Greed Isn't Pretty," "Stop Senior Evictions," and "This Is Bullshit." They serenaded sympathetic neighbors and the cops with chants of "Yuppie Yuppie Stole My Pad, Yuppie Yuppie Bad Bad Bad!"     

Dean Preston, an attorney representing Grace Well, told the crowd that June Croucher "has made life hell" for Ms. Well. "Croucher has served Grace two eviction notices," Preston said. "She decreased Grace's services in her home--including cutting off her heat this winter."     

Ms. Wells' heat is back on now, due to public pressure mounted against her landlord's unscrupulous actions. But Croucher is continuing her eviction shananigans. Now she's trying to use the infamous Ellis Act--which allows landlords to kick out tenants if they claim they're going out of the landlord business.     

Ted Gullicksen of the SF Tenants Union, which organized the March 21 demo, declared "We're here to say, 'You don't have the right to take away someone else's home because you have lots of money and the tenant doesn't.' We'll be back and we'll keep coming back until we stop this eviction." Gullicksen also said, "This neighborhood has been gentrified to an extraordinary degree in recent times. On a small block around the corner on Scott Street, 75-95% of the tenants have been displaced by owner-move-in and Ellis evictions over the past year and a half."     

The 2000 Census reported that, between 1990 and 2000, the median monthly rent in SF jumped from $643 to $977, a 59% increase. Over that period units renting for between $250 to $749 a month decreased by over 50%, from 132,278 to 63,849. Meanwhile units renting for $1000 or more a month skyrocketed from 24,070 to 90,247, an astronomical 308% increase.  

Grace Well and her supporters are determined to make sure that she doesn't end up as another unfortunate statistic in the rich's war against the poor in San Francisco.    

by Leroy Moore Jr.

In Home (Un)Support Service, IHSS

IHSS what is that

I don't have a home

No support on the streets

I’m caught in the system

Dot coms moved in my home

My support system is broken

Mother in a nursing home

Father in prison for three strikes Poor, Black and Mentally Ill

Sisters in foster care

Nobody cares

Sleeping with strangers

I’ve seen all of this and am only a teenager

You hear me; I donít have a home

Uncle Sam took away my support

Hispanic, disabled and unemployed

One strike and Iím out is this Americaís past time

What is IHSS

No roof over my head

Another night and another one dead

Can’t afford a loaf of bread

Do I qualify

Cause I don’t have a home and

The INS thinks I lying about my disability

Pete Wilson thought I was a strain on the economy

You think I’m crazy

Your advice is more and more medication

You don’t understand my situation

Four jobs under the table and you call me lazy

IHSS

Is not in my vocabulary

Please! English only!

I’m in shackles in the land of the free

I have no home

The US don’t want me

Disabled in my country equals no opportunity

Living on the streets in the riches country

IHSS SSI and ADA

Uhh I can’t comprehend

INS LAPD and Prop 187

Oh yeah know I understand

No money

No family

No community

I don’t need your pity

From Mexico to the US

From the streets to the hospital

From the hospital to prison

I’m on the move

My home keeps on changing

I’m just waiting

For a bed in a shelter, SRO or better yet section eight

Right now I’ll take anything

In Home STOP!

I have been kicked out

I have not been inside for a long time

Outside, out numbered, outstunned.. out out get out

Homeless

Alone

No green card, no service

No income and I know the outcome

********************

Open Letter to Gray Davis from Disability Advocates of Minorities Organization (DAMO)

I’m writing to you to voice our strong disapproval of the recent proposed change in the services of In-Home-Support-Services system! We have received noticed that in Governor Gray Davis’ Proposed Budget Act for Fiscal Year 2002-03 will radically change the In-Home-Support-Services program. As we understand this change, will cut out family members’ eligibility to be care providers and also limit the choices to one caretaker.

As disabled youth and adults we depend on our families for our special needs, support and as you know historically the family support network has played an important role in people of color communities. Most of the time the family is the only resource in disabled youth and adults, especially low income and people of color with disabilities. To cut this link inside the homes of people with disabilities is an invasion of privacy, family values and leads to separation i.e. institutionalization which equals segregation. This proposed change would unfairly hit families of color and low-income families who have lack of resources to afford a caretaker and have their own cultural norms inside their own homes.

We all know that people with disabilities live under harsh poverty so why are you taking away the little amount families get to take care their disabled. This proposed change would dig people with disabilities and ourfamilies deeper into the poverty blanket. Please realized that In-Home-Support-Services family member provides are a life or death necessity and should be left up to the families and the disabled community on how and who provides in our own homes! We demand you to keep families together by rejecting this deadly change in the In-Home-Support program.

Sincerely

Leroy F. Moore,

Executive Director/DAMO

by Joe B.

Revelation & Armageddon, Ready To Rise Up? I AM.

For a couple days I’ve been listening to radio, TV, and overhearing conversations on busses about the Middle Easter Conflict between Palestinian Refugee’s and the Israeli Government.

Bloodshed and the biblical portents or signs this means to all religions globally.

Me, raised as Roman Catholic cannot help see this conflict like a whirlpool sucking in all nations in the Middle East.

American made weapons used in this slaughter. [Tanks, uniformed troops even if not an elite trained one, as a occupying force with superior arms going up against children throwing rocks or people with small arms, massacre, overkill, slaughter, and genocide come to mind.]

The Anti Christ is suppose to be roaming the earth gathering people and power I know he’s not Clinton, G.W. Bush Jr., Cheney, Al Gore.

On second thought Mr. Gore is brilliant but mega quality charisma is not his strong suit though he may have seen this if not the world changing September, 9-11 tragedy.

I’m not an agnostic, atheist, [thanks for the assist Ms. Estrada].

More of a lapsed Catholic who still believes in the tenet biblically and of course just in case the
"Rapture" [The call of living, ill and dead rising skyward into heaven’s kingdom before tribulations fall on those still on earth who’ll have horrors undreamed but prophesied many holy works besides the holy bible]

When it looks like or feels "Last Days" time I want and need to be sure that even if I’m not one the lucky ones rising that if I die or survive the coming bloody horrors on earth there's still a chance for me to be enfolded in the lord’s hands.

Reading the bible is not my favorite activity - science fiction, fiction, adventure, some autobiography and other interests are uppermost but all that pales in comparison to EndWorld, Left Behind scenario’s.

I speak and believe life extension e-immortality by scientific means however if we human’s are on The Eternal’s time clock [One of God’s days = a thousand years to us].

I don’t want to be the ultimate unluckiest person or persons ending up in Hades, Satan’s realm eternally tortured.

Arafat and others trapped in a complex somewhere in the soldier occupied encampments.

To me its a systematic killing ground.

Think of the West Bank Occupied over 30 years with soldiers granted car bombs, small arms, and booby trapped areas have maimed, killed, and wounded civilians and soldiers alike but protection turns into terror tactics.

Tanks, soldiers, weapons, in neighborhoods happened all over the inner cities in America from New York, Watts in Los Angeles, Chicago, Detroit, nearly any and everywhere the population is non-white, speaking another language police may not live in the area but can quickly mobilize to occupy area’s in question for weeks or months at a time.

In Palestinian Encampments soldiers are an occupying force with the power of life and death, torture, or freedom, and if there is a history of hate between occupation troops and occupants.

In America the Police’s "To Serve And Protect" is the motto unfortunately in
our inner cities of America its no longer just people of color, ethnic group, age ranges that are seen as a problem but anyone not warring the uniform are seen as "prey" to hunt, chase, torture, kill, or let go to chase again.

Even police themselves out of uniform are deemed as "alien" that’s one of many reason’s why police kill brother officers (Friendly Fire) out of uniform and working undercover.

In America’s suburbs of modest homes, picket fences, children, dogs, cars, and next door neighbors police are seen as protectors, citizen soldiers doing danger and perilous jobs defending the right of the public. (which is at times) hazardous and lethal.

Just as Firemen/women, in many dangerous kinds of occupations can end in death.

Israeli’s constant occupation, arbitrary stop-arrest-torture first legitimately for self protect then as an occupying territory where people in their own homes are demonized as the enemy, non entities, and walking targets.

This sounds awfully familiar to Black, Brown, Yellow, Red, Poor Whites, and Racially Mixed folks, working poor, and houseless persons struggling with the same issue: Being seen and arbitrarily targeted as ciphers (zero’s) on the landscape, our lives in constant peril.

I could be wrong folks but what is happening way over there is so damn de ja’vu it’s scary (International language key stroke program needed)

Occupying soldiers in uniforms and plain clothed citizens make it easier to pick targets, except when soldier and citizen’s switch clothes then enemy, friend, or non combatants become murky.

The West Bank, where homes are destroyed, families and individuals are told to exit their homes and knowing soldier’s do lie make it difficult for an occupied people to leave homes on threat of death.

Is this the beginning of The Second Coming?" I don’t know but Synagogues, Mosques, Churches, or other hallowed places in Bethlehem, the holiest of cites under bombardment and civilians killed must sadden and anger The Eternal seeing the carnage rise.

This could give one a Messianic complex or paranoid delusional fantasies but again as a Black Roman Catholic (Woolly hair, Olive skin) hmmm.

I do hope to be lifted up and not be chosen to suffer the greatest of tests, if and when these Biblical prophecies come true.

I sincerely pray including my family, friends, strangers, and myself just so if it all does come to pass; my mortality burned away replaced by spiritualized, eternal, infinite, life on a renewed transformed earth can be my due.

I just don’t want be a lead soul or assistant soul on an endless multi-task job though if God-Goddess, Spirit needs me in that capacity, for an eternity; who am I to say no?

If I did refuse I’d become assistant demon to the head of Hades or worse

Supreme Satan the 2nd relieving Satan No. 1 from his job as Head of Evil Incorporated.

I don’t want that job, The "I’d Rather Rule In Hell, Than Serve In Heaven
[John Milton, Paradise Lost. (1608 - 1674)] I paraphrase in case it is not an exact quote.

So, life and death is settled sort of for me, I hope to live a really long life even as this mortal one is shed.

Tell me if you believe the End Times is coming and if they are what would you do to prepare? ... Bye. ?

by Lisa Gray-Garcia aka Tiny

It was early, perhaps too early – the light at the newly named daylight was thin and gray. Thick strands of night fog reached into the 6:00 am sky. My body felt cold, empty and raw. I watched normal things like wet streets and moving windshield wipers and shuddered with their strangeness. My head throbbed a steady beat. A glaze of terror racked my body.

I had felt this feeling before. Four years ago – when I was in front of my PAES (welfare) worker, Why didn’t you turn in your month-end report?" She demanded.

"It was an accident, I was sick – the form was only one day late" She wasn’t looking at me anymore.

"We are sanctioning you for not getting that form in on time, you won’t receive your benefits for this month" I couldn’t cry – or even scream, for fear the security guard stationed at the door would drag me out of the building within seconds.

"Ok", I whispered.

On this day, four years later, I rode towards the offices of POOR Magazine, a non-profit grassroots organization dedicated to providing media access, art, advocacy and education to very low and no-income folks. I was one of the very low-income folks who founded and organized POOR., and now acted as executive director and Co-editor. Yet I was still on welfare. As a very small organization with leadership comprised of very low-income youth and adults, we as an organization were on welfare and I was on my way to a meeting where the entire organization would be sanctioned.

The stakes were higher now – it was our whole budget. The POOR staff had developed a very innovative Job creation program that paid folks a living wage who (like a lot of us) were transitioning from welfare to work and wanted to work in the fields of media and multimedia. Our belief at POOR is welfare to work should mean welfare to WORK, and include training in something that actually enriches the person on welfare. After several months of development community support and lobbying , we had finally attained a referral based contract approved through the San Francisco Department of Human Services (DHS) which would be administered through the Private Industry Council (PIC). And of course even though it was dangerous as a funding source due to the illogical nature of bureacracy and funding, we all felt we were already "at-risk". And finally, how else could any of this even happen, without the DHS contract. Noone had any funding. We were just a bunch of idealistic poor folks trying to organize, trying to be heard!!

Unfortunately as many of the other smaller organizations noted when funding was finally granted through DHS, The Individual Referral contract we were granted was a very minimal contract at best. It offered no actual dollars unless people were referred to your program. And as we found out later , DHS would make it VERY difficult for anyone to actually get a referral to our program. The referral process, replete with the regular bureaucratic hoops included yet another additional level of hoops. And if anyone was persistent enough to make it through those hoops they could look forward to DHS Jobs assessors who would actually discourage them from joining our program and name our program as not as good as the "Other" programs. Interesting to note, most of these "others" happened to be ones that graduated you out into the work world in a matter of weeks, to get a "job" any job and therefore didn’t cost DHS as much money.

So here we were at 9:30 sharp. The inquisition was soon to begin. Light hit the classroom at POOR in sad shadows as though it too knew the sad fate about to befall its walls. There were three representatives at the meeting; two from DHS, one from PIC. As well, three staff were present from POOR as well as two other grassroots media organizations in support of POOR’s JOBS Program; Marie Harrison, of The Bay View and Terry Messmen of Street Spirit, as they employ and/or are beneficiaries of the JOBS Program. The moment was thick with discomfort.

The DHS/PIC group were somewhat put off by the other attendees and asked them to leave, as this was a monitoring meeting (read: sanction mtg.) Terry and Marie ( who helped create the JOBS proposal) insisted that they were integral to the program and were finally allowed to remain until the "monitoring" began.

After that issue was sort of resolved, I began by stating clearly, " POOR has already paid out their almost non-existent money to the participants' wages and as of yet have not received the reimbursement that PIC is contracted to give us."

The representative from PIC replied by saying clearly, "As soon as I get back to my office, I will send those invoices through" I breathed a sigh of relief as we had invoiced for those wages 9 days ago and as of yet received nothing even though we paid wages in good faith. After I resolved that the meeting officially began by the media partners voicing strong support for the program. Questions were asked of them about how they knew of the participants et al. They answered every question, thoroughly and emphatically.

"This is a great program, there is no other journalism training that does the things POOR does," Terry Mesmen, began an extensive testimonial in favor of the interns and graduates of POOR’s JOBS in the Media Program.

"I refer my upcoming writers to this organization – as it does a much better job at training in journalism that several formal journalism programs…." Marie Harrison began a long statement which encompassed several parts of the program design

They asked more questions, "What encompasses the internship duties at your publication"

"There are several duties, including writing, reporting….", Marie went on in great detail as to the kind of things involved in a media assignment from the Bay View and how that comes through Community Newsroom at POOR.

Yet oddly enough as though it had never been addressed, 20 minutes later they asked again. "What does an intern do?"

And so the day went. Whenever a moment of clarity would be attained, it would get buried in another hour of some kind of new version of the same question which would lead to yet another twisted "question" until a new version of the question would finally transcend into a "problem" or "discrepancy"

The questioning continued for four more hours. The entire day culminated with the PIC/DHS staff "meeting" (read: cornering, intimidating) with participants in the JOBS
Program, all of whom are current welfare recipients who are attempting to achieve success and hope through media and multi-media, and in fact one of the JOBS participants made a dire misstep in one of her responses to their questions out of confusion and stated that internship time was mixed with class room time. That was it. We now officially had Discrepancies.

After four and a half hours were over. All three "representatives" headed out. I went after them and with the last bit of energy left in me, repeated my query, " So we will expect those reimbursements for the participant wages this afternoon, right?"

" Oh yes, as soon as soon as I get back to the office"

I watched them descend the stairs. It won’t be long, I thought before the inquisition "findings" will be official, I knew just like that day four years ago, something was wrong with everything we all said or did. Did POOR really ever have a chance ? maybe we just thought we did, after all… we’re all still on welfare…………

Postscript: Later that afternoon POOR staff was called by PIC staff who informed POOR that PIC would be withholding participant wages until the "findings were complete", thereby reneging on their agreement earlier that day to reimburse the participant wages already paid out by POOR Magazine to the participants.

This situation has not only had a dire impact on POOR – the organization and the very low-income staff, but also all the JOBS in the media interns seeking to be heard. If you want to voice your support for POOR's JOBS in the Media Program - please call Deputy City Attorney, Virginia Elizondo at (415) 554-4276 or Joyce Crum at Private Industry Council (415) 431-8700 and urge them to make good on their contract and reimburse POOR's wages.

by T.J. Johnston

"I'm gonna kill ya!" Spring arrived only a few hours earlier, but my vernal equinox began with a threat to my life. This being a new experience, I was a little thrown off by the verbal assault. "I'm gonna kill ya!" repeated the man. No doubt this stranger was speaking directly to me. Thank God he was shouting at me from thirty yards at Saint Francis Circle, where I was waiting for Muni.

The man in question wore bulky winter clothing and carried an equally cumbersome pack. I caught only a glimpse of a snake-style tattoo under his sleeve. I looked around to see if the other commuters were paying attention. No such luck, but I can't blame them for wanting to stay out of harm's way. I also checked for nearby men in blue: none were visible.

"I've seen you with that dog," the red-bearded stranger continued, "And I saw you in that truck. I'm gonna kill ya!" Absolutely jarring. Did this person know I used to walk dogs? Sounds plausible, but where did the truck come from? And who the hell was he to talk shit? Who was he, period?

I wasn't in the mood to refute his accusations and I am certainly unaccustomed to threats of extermination from apparently unstable people. "You must have me confused with someone else," I countered. Honestly, I didn't know what else to do. He went on his way to another bus stop. I walked further down the median. I'm not good with confrontation, especially the physical kind. So I let him walk away. Surreal as it was, the encounter lasted only a minute.

As if I didn't have enough crap in my life. The bus came, proving some public services were more reliable than others. At least I had fresh news for POOR's Community Newsroom…

There's a scene from Nick Hornby's novel, High Fidelity (it also appears in the movie starring John Cusack) where the protagonist, Rob, imagines different scenarios with a romantic rival. Like Rob, I immediately played script doctor with my bus stop scene.

SCENE 1. TJ whips out a camcorder and captures the images of his assailant. Very Norma Desmond, the crazed person plays to the camera. "I'm ready for my close-up," he says. "Now, I'm gonna kill ya!" TJ makes a run for it.

SCENE 2. TJ extends his wrist and shoots a web at his adversary, who struggles with his entanglement. A note is attached: "Courtesy of the Poor Man's Spiderman."

SCENE 3. TJ touches his earpiece. "5150 him." A team of cop cars and a padded truck speed in the perp's direction. Cops emerge, point their weapons and yell "freeze," and a now-straitjacketed perp is carted in the truck. With a smirk, TJ tells him, "Say hello to Nurse Ratched, Bubba."

SCENE 4. TJ imitates Robert Deniro in Taxi Driver. "Are you talkin' to me? There's no one else here, so you must be talkin' to me." He whips out a gun and empties it into him, just like Deniro did to the child pimp portrayed by Harvey Keitel. The local press heralds TJ as a hero defending himself against scum.

SCENE 5. A symphonic rendition of "Pop Goes the Weasel" induces TJ to act like Curly from the Three Stooges. He runs in place, slaps his head, and goes "woo-woo-woo." He then charges into him head first and beats the hell out of him. The number crescendos as TJ thrashes him about.

As writers for POOR Magazine, we represent ourselves in relationship to poverty (in my case, I describe myself as at-risk). Through POOR and the Raising Our Voices program at Media Alliance, I'm continually apprised of the plight of the indigent, the profiled, and the marginalized and their chronic subjugation. This particular person immediately lost my sympathy when he threatened me and became just another motherfucker. Call me "the liberal who just got mugged."

Admittedly, my account is subjective. Broaching the topic in Community Newsroom, I got a varied response. My colleagues inquired how I knew this person was homeless, mentally ill, and specifically targeting me. The consensus was that I acted properly in defusing the situation, and not just for my sake. One questioned the wisdom of involving police and psychiatrists. Another agreed that I had indeed been violated. Dee, one of our editors, suggested speaking to a counselor.

As I write this, I'm still attempting to make sense of this senseless act. Historically, I've had abuse heaped upon me by people who knew what they were doing and stood to gain from it. What distinguished this situation was the randomness of this occurrence, not to mention the wasted opportunity to fuck him over. It was a scene out of a Jim Thompson novel in an un-Thompsonlike neighborhood of West Portal. If I weren't already a light sleeper, I'd be downright insomniac. If this guy provokes someone more ill tempered than he, I'd enjoy it as much as "The Killer Inside Me."

by Mari/PoorNewsNetwork

About a year and half ago I was houseless. I was forced to leave where I was living and go somewhere else. But where would I go? I was truly scared of what would happen to me. Could I survive everyday? Where do I sleep? How will I eat? These questions entered my mind every second. Everyday I was in survival mode.

I had a job at the time but I was in between checks. I had just spent my last check helping pay my friend's rent so she would not be evicted. So I had no income at all. I started to lose my self physically and mentally. I would freak out in a second. My stress levels were outrageous. I was told I had high blood pressure. Things that seemed so easy for people were hard for me. Things like taking the bus, finding food, and most of all finding a place to sleep. I was constantly moving around. I was usually carrying a big bag with me where ever I went.

During a conversation with one of my friends I heard about a program called Guerrero House (G House). It is a transitional living program for houseless youth between the ages of 18-23. I would be provided with food, a bed, and my own space. So I went to an orientation at G House to find out more information about the program. I met this lady Karisa. She seemed alright. The program had a lot of rules, but I thought I could follow them. So I applied to G House. I was accepted, I got on the waiting list.

During the time I was sleeping anywhere I could find the only thing that kind of helped me keep my sanity was that I was on the waiting list at G House. It gave me hope. About a month and a half wait. I moved into G House. G house was the most beautiful place I ever lived. It is a 97 year old brick mansion located in the Mission District. The garden has so many different plants. There are roses, lavendar, aloe vera, and many more plants. Our fire escape is a gray slide .There are over 13 rooms in G House.

Living at "G" (Guerrero) House, a transitional housing program for houseless youth, was very stressful and also very exciting at times. There were a lot of rules, I had curfews, expectations, and mandatory meetings. There were times I wanted to throw in the towel and leave. But I didn’t because where would I go?

About a year later, there were rumors of Larkin Street building low-income apartments for houseless youth. So I did some research and found out the rumors were true. The building was to be supportive housing for houseless youth. The day when everyone was told where to apply youth started lining up outside of TNDC to be able to apply the next morning. There were about 50 or 60 youth who slept on the street that night just so they could get the chance at housing.

I filled out my application. In fact I filled it out so fast I was number one on the waiting list. I went through like three interviews. The process was very grueling.

This last December, two days after Christmas. I got the best present ever... I got housing. I was given my very own studio with a kitchen and a bathroom. I even had my very own hallway! It was very shocking at first. It almost seemed surreal like I really didn't have any housing. It felt like someone could just take it away from me at anytime.

It has been three months now that I have lived in my studio. I feel like I have had one of the greatest opportunities in housing. I look back now and realize the only way I survived through my houselessness is because of God. She put people in my life to make sure I was taken care of. I was lucky to have supportive friends. I was lucky to find a program like G House. That is what helped me to live. If it wasn't for them and G House I would have probably died out on the streets.

by Joe B.

There have been ups and downs for a few weeks and days.

Besides personal and domestic problems with a co working contributor of POOR Magazine, the start of Resistance Awards Dinner for Individual living and deceased, a refunding hold has placed POOR Magazine’s Jobs In The Media Program/Adults and Youths at risk threatening Dee and Lisa Gray-Garcia again to being homeless.

Me, I’m Joe-of ASK JOE, HE DON’T KNOW.

Yeah, I might be on my can, out of the S.R.O. [Single Room Only/Occupantcy] playing shelter lotto (that’s winning a bed with or without dinner for the night.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t affect me, but Joseph Bolden is replaceable/expendable by others doing a better job as office manager rather than O-Mangler that I sometimes am.

POOR MAGAZINE, ‘PO POET’S, PNN [POOR NEWS NETWORK, Computer Literacy or Digital Resistance, On-Line News, Graphics Arts, Photography, Books, tape, CD’s (Compact Disks, Young Folks and Prison On-Web Arts, Visual/Audio (Spoken Work) Protest Art.

It’s World Wide What The FUCK IS HAPPENING from poor voices globally should not be yanked arbitrary after a 4-5 hour fishing expedition looking an error and reason not to release funding to the Jobs In The Media Program.

I always thought D.H.S/P.I.C. (Department of Human Services) was to improve people’s and families lives - note the last words HUMAN SERVICES.

While the Private Industry Council [some of you readers come up with what works for you].

Or is it Dept. Of Hassle or Hustle to the any minium to sub wage job.

Is higher education, training/skills/vocations forever off their radar.

"Joe, WAKE UP!, drink some Silk Milk, less fat in your sluggish neurons."

I finally get 1,000 business cards, prices, POOR’s email, and what happens POOR Magazine’s about vanish from view.

Sorry folks, went off on a tagent, I tend to do that when feeling attacked or wronged.

Domestic Violence is what its like being a 3rd wheel was the subject last time if you read my non-column blip.

Oops, as soon as I find what was written I’ll begin.

I began with a slight rant on the concept of having a day off work and how infuriating and frustrating it can be when its constantly interupted.

Its 8:30 pm. Wednesday, April, 10, 2002 and the third Wednesday in a row I didn’t contact someone at Media Alliance.

Domestic Violence be it Men on Women, Women on men, Lesbian, Gay guys, or Bisexed couples though overwelmingly Men beating Women is cyclic spiral that if not stopped at its start steadily gets worse until either victim or aggressor is dead.

Although husband, boyfriend abuse by women is slowly increasing it is still a battered, beaten women, girl, sister's, friends that die in homes, cars, and on the streets of America.

I may be a bit slow mentally but 'um if a young woman dies, young man dies, mother, grandmother,; isn't that zero generations born, and aged common sense wisdom lost?

In this case equal parity is a lethal must be stopped altogether.

One of these victims is a young woman, a coworker where I work and for a while I am blissfully unaware of what been happening to her.

In Estrogen Center 1, there are other guys but the three ladies used their feminine wiles targeting me.

I’m defenseless against three warp-sped-brainy-emotive fem speake.

It all tumbles out one night at the end of the day as mostly women are in my office talking in their coded messages.
[If they want you in or out of their circle, they have ways of doing so].

This time I am included between three women, between their persuasive demeanor, this guy (me) didn’t have a chance to refuse a woman emoting raw pain.

A volunteer is needed, to serve legal documents to an soon to be ex-boyfriend.

After some badgering either misplaced macho or temporary oxygen deprivation, (the latter is not out of the question) had me agreeing to help a distressed lady, which I haven’t been able to do because most women as the saying goes [pump their own gas, make their own money, and buy their own homes, and here in lovely

San Francisco may prefer the company of women over men].

OK, not all; apologies to all male liking women.

To me the "Guys, who needs ‘em gets old fast.

I had no inkling of what I’ve gotten into. I’m such a boob, but everybody plays the boob sometimes, no exception to the rule; that’s from a song but I think those words don’t quite fit.

I stop here, for whatever emotional swings this young woman is going, through is contagious.

Its worse than any flu virus because I am not sick but hot-cold-damp-numbing emotive waves keep washing over me. (I’ll continue this later)