Still no announcement. Still waiting.
A young woman who'd moved out of the Motel, oh - months and months ago - has moved back. She'd moved out with her man and moved back alone, with a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis. Not good. She's very depressed at having to live there again and desperately wants out.
The Amazing J. took her apartment hunting in town and talked to the manager of one building that has a vacancy. The question of first and last months' rent is always an obstacle, but not an insurmountable one. There is help available for that. But when they asked about pets, the manager said, "No pets. Period."
Which is not legal. Landlords are not permitted to make that rule. Legally. Officially. Look it up.
But they do, of course. Because laws only work to a certain point. Then people get clever and they do what they want. Not only the marginalized, but the 'respectable', too.
Legality aside, when our friend heard the landlord say this, she had a bit of a melt down. Something along the lines of "I had to give up all my children, there's no way in hell I'm giving up my cats." So J. took her home.
So unfair.
They'll keep trying.
Speaking of trying, G was never given any information by R's family about a funeral or anything. He's got no contact information for them and they haven't been in touch.
So J called the local funeral home and said that she knew they couldn't really tell her anything, but explained the situation and asked if there was anything at all they could give away. She was put on hold, and when the woman came back on the line, she said that there had been no funeral.
Which probably means R was cremated. But not necessarily. G would really like to know at least where he's buried, so some of the team are working on that.
Now on one hand, if I were feeling particularly charitable, I might find it within myself to say that there are probably lots of families out there who wouldn't know quite what to do with Grandpa's boyfriend.
But I'm not feeling charitable. I think it's just rotten and it makes me mad.
So unfair.
Last week I was one of several local artists performing at a coffee house fundraiser. The beneficiary of the evening was the food bank, so of course I'm there.
The evening featured a "local celebrity" and about half a dozen lesser lights, like myself. It was a really cool mix of music. Standards and original music, countryish, folkish, acapella, guitar and uke (guess who?).
I particularly enjoyed the acapella duet. Lovely harmonies. Creative. Different.
Another thing I liked was a song written by a guy who goes to the church I used to go to. He'd written it out of some verses in Malachi (these ones, if I've got it right).
That theme, the idea of looking out for "the widow and the orphan and the foreigner among you" recurs in scripture over and over and over. The commandment to "act justly, love mercy and walk humbly". The principle of providing for those in your community who have neither income nor inheritance.
Thinking about these verses, listening to that song, I was struck by something.
Several people during the evening had used the phrase "good cause."
Supporting the food bank is a good cause. We should do this again in a couple of months to raise some money for Haiti because that's a good cause. Let's give because this is a good cause.
A good cause. It almost sounds optional, doesn't it?
We look at it and decide that, yes, it's a good cause. It's worth supporting. Other things are not, but this is. So we'll support it.
As if we have a choice.
As if it's somehow not part of our DNA, our roots, our guts, our selves.
As if we haven't been repeatedly commanded to do it.
As if somehow we could possibly not support the food bank, or the people of Haiti, or Darfur, or isolated Native communities, or east side Vancouver.
As if we have the right to keep the extra that we have when others are so terribly in need. Of food, of medicine, of building materials, of shelter, of hope.
As if.
And who better to remind us of this than songwriters. Singers. Dramatists. Poets.
The prophets among us.
Sing it. Write it. Preach it.
The widows - those who are alone, trying to meet their obligations, with no way to earn a living.
The orphans - those who are abandoned and lost, with no guidance and no inheritance.
The foreigners - refugees, dispossessed, new immigrants.
They need us.
r
A young woman who'd moved out of the Motel, oh - months and months ago - has moved back. She'd moved out with her man and moved back alone, with a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis. Not good. She's very depressed at having to live there again and desperately wants out.
The Amazing J. took her apartment hunting in town and talked to the manager of one building that has a vacancy. The question of first and last months' rent is always an obstacle, but not an insurmountable one. There is help available for that. But when they asked about pets, the manager said, "No pets. Period."
Which is not legal. Landlords are not permitted to make that rule. Legally. Officially. Look it up.
But they do, of course. Because laws only work to a certain point. Then people get clever and they do what they want. Not only the marginalized, but the 'respectable', too.
Legality aside, when our friend heard the landlord say this, she had a bit of a melt down. Something along the lines of "I had to give up all my children, there's no way in hell I'm giving up my cats." So J. took her home.
So unfair.
They'll keep trying.
Speaking of trying, G was never given any information by R's family about a funeral or anything. He's got no contact information for them and they haven't been in touch.
So J called the local funeral home and said that she knew they couldn't really tell her anything, but explained the situation and asked if there was anything at all they could give away. She was put on hold, and when the woman came back on the line, she said that there had been no funeral.
Which probably means R was cremated. But not necessarily. G would really like to know at least where he's buried, so some of the team are working on that.
Now on one hand, if I were feeling particularly charitable, I might find it within myself to say that there are probably lots of families out there who wouldn't know quite what to do with Grandpa's boyfriend.
But I'm not feeling charitable. I think it's just rotten and it makes me mad.
So unfair.
Last week I was one of several local artists performing at a coffee house fundraiser. The beneficiary of the evening was the food bank, so of course I'm there.
The evening featured a "local celebrity" and about half a dozen lesser lights, like myself. It was a really cool mix of music. Standards and original music, countryish, folkish, acapella, guitar and uke (guess who?).
I particularly enjoyed the acapella duet. Lovely harmonies. Creative. Different.
Another thing I liked was a song written by a guy who goes to the church I used to go to. He'd written it out of some verses in Malachi (these ones, if I've got it right).
That theme, the idea of looking out for "the widow and the orphan and the foreigner among you" recurs in scripture over and over and over. The commandment to "act justly, love mercy and walk humbly". The principle of providing for those in your community who have neither income nor inheritance.
Thinking about these verses, listening to that song, I was struck by something.
Several people during the evening had used the phrase "good cause."
Supporting the food bank is a good cause. We should do this again in a couple of months to raise some money for Haiti because that's a good cause. Let's give because this is a good cause.
A good cause. It almost sounds optional, doesn't it?
We look at it and decide that, yes, it's a good cause. It's worth supporting. Other things are not, but this is. So we'll support it.
As if we have a choice.
As if it's somehow not part of our DNA, our roots, our guts, our selves.
As if we haven't been repeatedly commanded to do it.
As if somehow we could possibly not support the food bank, or the people of Haiti, or Darfur, or isolated Native communities, or east side Vancouver.
As if we have the right to keep the extra that we have when others are so terribly in need. Of food, of medicine, of building materials, of shelter, of hope.
As if.
And who better to remind us of this than songwriters. Singers. Dramatists. Poets.
The prophets among us.
Sing it. Write it. Preach it.
The widows - those who are alone, trying to meet their obligations, with no way to earn a living.
The orphans - those who are abandoned and lost, with no guidance and no inheritance.
The foreigners - refugees, dispossessed, new immigrants.
They need us.
r
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