Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Going Back

Standing in the midst of a tailgate full of frivolity and alcohol, on a beautiful football Saturday in Athens, Georgia, a friend who works for the City of Savannah throws his arms over my shoulder and said, "I need to tell you something." "Alright," I shrug thinking it's another joke or story about football related activities (which are very broad and eclectic and may surround a game but not necessarily involve one). "Your name comes up all the time," he says with a grin. "For what?" I have no idea what he's talking about. "Homelessness," he clarifies. "I didn't do it," I quickly reply. "It wasn't my fault. I wasn't even there." Joseph burst out laughing. "That's not what I'm talking about." "OK," I answer. "It's all gotten worse since you left," he tells me with a sudden seriousness. "Homeless people are everywhere and nobody's doing anything. In meetings people say it wasn't like this when you were here. They ask where you are because selling bottles of water isn't the answer." Because I remain a devotee of The Savannah Morning Blues I know what he's talking about. One of the only things that Mark Baggett actually did before being fired from the Chatham Savannah Authority for the Homeless was to come up with selling homeless water as a way to raise money. It was a great idea a decade ago but the competition among bottled water sales is pretty fierce so its hard to break into that market. "That's nice," I tell Joseph, glancing over at Sarah and Jeremy who are watching with serious concern as a solemn conversation occurs in the silliness of a tailgate. They look after me, even when I don't always look after myself, and don't want any repeats of the traumas of when I left working in Savannah. "People want you to come back," he said. The world stopped spinning. Thousands of people surrounding me were suddenly quiet. Darkness descended on a sunny day. The curtains hiding the Holy of Holies was ripped asunder. There is no such thing as going back. "Who says you can't go back?" Bon Jovi sings, "I've been all around the world and as a matter of fact ... who says?" The fact is I did come back. I did good and I did it for a long time. We mostly solved the problem, burst through most every glass ceiling and made an entire city a better place. Thousands of people's lives improved. "But I've already done that," Bob Dylan once said, "why would I want to do it again. I'll do something else." I'll do something better. It's funny. People who used to be homeless but aren't anymore, call, text, email, Face Book and actually stop by the house from time to time. We talk about old times. We remain connected. People I used to intensely work with ... in government, at Hospitals, the prison industry, the Board of Education, behind the closed gates of The Landings ... have mostly evaporated from my life. I'm either a fond memory or a gladly forgotten relic of what used to be. Sarah is sitting with Cassidy in her lap. Jeremy and my dear friend Bill Shearouse are laughing and drinking beers. Chelsea is standing with Maddie and Laurel. Kristen and Sterling are stealing drinks from the cooler. The noise of the crowd returns. The sun throws warmth and light on all of us. The curtains in the temple hide the darkness. Throwing my arm around Joseph, I smile. "That was a good time. We did a lot of good things and it was fun." "So?" he says with a hopeful expression on his face. "So I think Georgia's gonna win," I proclaim, walking over to Sarah, grabbing her hand and my family surrounds me as walk away into the future.