Staying sick and Cold in Minneapolis

Chapter one: It was a miserable time of my life

My name’s Lawson Wallace. I live in South Carolina with my wife Olivia. My wife has been after me to write a book about when I was homeless and how we met. I decided to publish the book here on Illumination Book Chapters.

The story is true as best as I can remember it. Some things though were blocked out. I have included background from when I was younger for context.

In this chapter: I kept getting sick, and I get a bed upstairs

When you’re homeless, Thanksgiving and Christmas is a depressing time of year. Some good things happened though. When I left the place where I was thrown out, I left most of my stuff in the basement, including a leather jacket.

All I had was an ill-fitting jean jacket. All the other homeless around me had thick winter coats. It was getting close to Thanksgiving when a guy from the Baptist Church across the street from the shelter came through the waiting area passing out flyers.

I was woefully unprepared

The church was giving away stuff, I read the list and headed to the church. “May I help you?” The church volunteer asked. I looked around and the piles of clothes on the tables.

“Yeah, I’m staying at the shelter across the street, and I need a coat.” The volunteer beckoned me to follow him to a table, five minutes later, after telling the man my story and having him pray for me, I walked out wearing a heavy coat.

Small Blessings, God was looking out for me

A few days later, someone left a new pair of gloves on the ground by my pickup, and a few days after I found the gloves, a woman came through the waiting area, she was giving away hand-knitted hats and scarves.

“I might survive the winter after all.” I thought as I put on my new hat and wrapped the scarf around my neck. I survived, but I kept getting sick.

Two upper respiratory infections in one month

I sat in the caseworker’s office. I just returned from the hospital with my second upper-respiratory infection that month. “I want you to take this note to the shelter team when they come in tonight.” She said as she folded the note she wrote and handed it to me. For two months, I sat in the waiting area fascinated as I watched well-rested men and women come down the stairs and elevator laughing as they headed for dinner.

I opened the note, “please assign Lawson a bed upstairs, he needs a break.” We talked a few more minutes, then I thanked her and headed to the library.

It was an improvement

That evening, I fidgeted and kept checking the time on my phone, as I waited to head back to the shelter team. The Shelter Team offices were in an area by where the bunks were. The team sat behind Plexiglas, with a slot to pass pens and documents. There was an armed police officer there for security.

I sat and waited, at exactly 9:00 P.M. the blinds covering the plexiglass went up, and I was looking at an older woman who was all business. I placed the note in the tray, she read the note, then she passed me some documents to read and sign.

She gave me a pass. “Take this upstairs with you, you will see some chairs in front of an office, have a seat and wait, he will be with you directly.” I thank her, then I headed to the elevator for the next leg of my journey.

It was another world

I stepped out of the elevator to a brightly lit floor, the hall was crowded with men walking around or sitting in chairs against the walls. The men were relaxed, talking or sitting with their phones in their hands.

Next to the office was a tv room, I heard laughter and cheers, reactions to a sporting event being watched. After a few minutes, the door to the office opened and one of the biggest men I ever saw in my life beckoned me into the office.

We shook hands and he introduced himself, then he offered me a seat and recited the speech he knew by heart. As he talked, he handed me a pen and the first of many papers to sign.

No worries about me breaking any rules

“There are no illegal drugs allowed on the floor, there is no buying or selling of cigarettes on the floor.” I nodded as I signed the paper in front of me and he handed another one to me.

“There’s a washer and dryer, it cost a quarter a load, you will have to wait in line to use it. Bed check is at nine P.M. you must be sitting on your bed at that time, if you’re not, you will be sent downstairs.

There were other rules, but I was too tired to pay attention, I just wanted to go to sleep. “The WIFI password is….” My ears picked up. He wrote down the password and handed it to me. We finally were done. “Let me show you to your bed.”

Most of the other guys were cool, but there are always one or two assholes

I followed the man to a room with a plaque above the door, “Medical Room.” The plaque read. “Here’s your bed.” He pointed to a bed right next to the door. I immediately sat down and started to take off my shoes.

Against the wall facing the door, there was an extra-large hospital bed, it contained a huge, gobby fat man with long hair and a beard. All the beds were full, everyone was playing with their phones or laptops.

I logged on to the WIFI signal and talked to Olivia, then I lied down and went right to sleep.

I was finally able to get some rest

The days upstairs were pretty much the same, there would be an announcement over the loudspeaker, we would get out of our beds and get cleaned up. We then would head downstairs for a hot breakfast.

Then we would go back to our beds and sleep some more, or do whatever we wanted to do. There weren’t enough outlets for all of us to charge our phones and laptops. It was a hassle keeping my toys charged.

Olivia and I were really getting to know each other

The poor WIFI signal was also a hassle, I spent a lot of time looking for a signal. I found a spot in the hallway next to the door leading outside to the rooftop smoking area. I spent a lot of time there talking to Olivia and posting on Facebook.

The homeless have one thing in common, they are all messed up, it’s just a matter of how messed up. I would be in the hallway, either on the internet, or charging my phone at an unused outlet.

Some messed up guys walking the halls

I would watch as a young African-American man, obviously Gay, as he continuously walked the floor, swishing his hips and talking loudly in a mincing voice. I never figured out if he was talking to himself, or into a Bluetooth earpiece.

There was always a group of Moslem men sitting together in a corner, and in another corner, another Gay black guy, he looked to be in his twenties or late teens. He was so effeminate, I did a double-take the first time I saw him, “How is a female on this floor?” was the first thought I had.

There was a room with a television and a kitchen area with a fridge and microwave. I was upstairs for two or three months. Olivia and I really got to know each other.

The Next Chapter: Olivia and I get to know each other

Life after Minneapolis

Lawson lives in South Carolina with his wife Olivia. It has been four years since he left Minneapolis. His life is a lot better now.