Some Times A Sandwich

Some times a sandwich. I’ve been doing street outreach on and off for 38 years. 25 of those years on a consistent basis. Outreach is a different animal. You’re there to help, but often discarded. Yes, sometimes you are warmly received. Yet other times, not at all. I’ve been cursed at, had my life threaten, and even went hands on a few times. So why do I do it? Because someone needs a sandwich. Let me explain.

People on the streets have a story. And it usually involves some sort of horrific trauma. {I could literally write several books on the matter.} But for the purpose of this article, the trauma is ground zero to change a life. And it does. My job as an outreach worker is to make contact and establish a rapport. But not everyone is open to help. But a sandwich, almost always.

My job is not to save anyone. I see it as more to let them know that they are not forgotten. That they matter. And yes at times, I deal with some really bad people. Murderers, rapist and sex offenders, just to name a few. But I engage anyway. And the truth is, the vast majority could care less and will not change. But some do. And if I can reach someone and prevent them from causing a trauma to another, then what is the price of that?

I sometimes meet people on the worst day of their life. Other times, on the last day of their life. To be able reach someone at that moment is sacred. On those days, you never know what you’re going to encounter. Is someone going to get physical? Maybe stab you with a needle? Show up at your office with weapon? All possibilities. But I do the work, because many can’t do it for themselves.

When I get someone into treatment, off the streets, or reconnected to family, a life changes. And while I am really good at meeting people where they are {emotionally speaking}, sometimes it’s offering a sandwich, that starts the conversation.