Have you ever talked to a homeless person? I mean, have you ever had a real conversation with one of the people living on the streets? The millions homeless people in the United States all have incredible stories and words to share, and I’d like to work with you in compiling them. There are a lot of us, and we can easily do something awesome.
I’ve gotten an idea for something called the American Streetbook Project: an anthology of life stories of homeless people from around the nation and a collection of their art and poetry. It’s a book compiled by young people across the country. It doesn’t require a donation of your money, only a donation of a half hour and a little listening to a few strangers.
I’ve gotten an idea for something called the American Streetbook Project: an anthology of life stories of homeless people from around the nation and a collection of their art and poetry. It’s a book compiled by young people across the country. It doesn’t require a donation of your money, only a donation of a half hour and a little listening to a few strangers.
So what do I want you to do?
Spend a half hour on the street. Ask one homeless person you see what their name is, start up a conversation with them, and tell them that you’d like to write down their story. Learn about them, let them learn about you, and then send their story to me, with their permission. Please contact me in advance, and I’ll send you a disposable camera to leave with them and a pre-paid envelope; the camera for them to take pictures of anything meaningful, to be included in the Streetbook, and the envelope for enclosing any poetry, artwork, or anything else that shows a part of them.
This won't cost them (or you) a cent.
What’s the point?
Almost a quarter of all homeless men and women are veterans, and one out of every twenty has a college degree. 100 % of the homeless men and women have stories to tell and profound life lessons that everyone could benefit from. Unfortunately, they are ignored, discriminated against, and dehumanized.
Being able to tell your story to the world is a concrete way of affirming your identity, and nothing “rehumanizes” like creative expression. This book of stories and human creativity, when published, will remind us and them that the homeless are people, teach those more fortunate quite a bit, and provide funding for the anti-homelessness movement internationally.
You want the background story?
I missed my flight back to New Hampshire from the San Fran airport during May of 2008, and decided to spend my eight hours of extra time exploring the airport’s city. The first thing to hit me, rising out of the BART station on Powell Street, was that there were a lot more homeless than I’d expected, soaking up the sun on California streets.
“I’d help you if I could,” started getting a little tiring to say after a few hours up and down the mountains in San Fran, hauling a 40-pound suitcase, especially when it wasn’t entirely true. My sister in New York City had told me about a time a homeless woman had asked her for change, had ended up having a conversation with her instead, and had thanked her afterwards by saying, “This is the first time I’ve really talked to someone in six years.”
On the other coast, that Sunday, a man was asking for a dollar next to Union Square, and instead of giving him a dollar and hoping it’d be used for food, I decided to take him out for coffee and a shared donut. I ignored the weird expression the woman running the bistro wore, and wondered if he’d had a chance to share a donut before (I’m an ignorant W.A.S.P. from Ohio, and can’t answer such things). His name was Steve, he’d had a much more interesting life than me or my friends had, and he had a beautiful eloquence that might have come from reflecting on every tough day he’d had for the past couple of decades.
I really got to know him as more than just a homeless face. It was an amazing experience everyone should have.
“I’d help you if I could,” started getting a little tiring to say after a few hours up and down the mountains in San Fran, hauling a 40-pound suitcase, especially when it wasn’t entirely true. My sister in New York City had told me about a time a homeless woman had asked her for change, had ended up having a conversation with her instead, and had thanked her afterwards by saying, “This is the first time I’ve really talked to someone in six years.”
On the other coast, that Sunday, a man was asking for a dollar next to Union Square, and instead of giving him a dollar and hoping it’d be used for food, I decided to take him out for coffee and a shared donut. I ignored the weird expression the woman running the bistro wore, and wondered if he’d had a chance to share a donut before (I’m an ignorant W.A.S.P. from Ohio, and can’t answer such things). His name was Steve, he’d had a much more interesting life than me or my friends had, and he had a beautiful eloquence that might have come from reflecting on every tough day he’d had for the past couple of decades.
I really got to know him as more than just a homeless face. It was an amazing experience everyone should have.
Sign yourself up!
*The Fine Print: Until further notice, all donations are deposited automatically into my private checking account. However, all donations are closely recorded, and I affirm that I will never withdraw an amount from my checking account that will cut into the donations made, until those donations are spent on the Streetbook. In other words, just trust me, and I'll get an account exclusively for the Streetbook soon.
