David is a 63-year-old Sacramento native and father of four who dropped out of high school in the 11th grade to work hanging sheetrock and plastering houses with his father. David has been unsheltered for ten years. He talked to me about the devastating loss of his entire family and how a felony charge has derailed his life.

David tells me as a young man he met and fell in love with a beautiful woman. They began to build a life and had four children together. After being in the relationship for fifteen years, David thought they would never be apart, but drugs crept into their lives.

“My girl, my love, my heart took off with a drug dealer. She took my sons and moved to Oregon. After that day everything went dark and I didn’t have the will to live. I haven’t seen my sons in 32 years,” David said.

David left Sacramento after that and went to Oklahoma for seven years but returned to Sacramento when his brother, Van, who was doing “drug stuff” was beaten up very badly. Van passed away from his injuries shortly following the attack. Soon after the death of his brother, David’s mother, father, auntie and uncle passed away all within a year. “So now I’m here by myself. I don’t have nobody,” David said.

David tells me he started getting very angry and frustrated and his mind was messed up by the loss of his family and being alone. He “got with a girl” and his frustration and anger took over and he went to prison on a four-year felony spousal abuse charge.

“I should have had more control. I did four years in prison and that really messed up my life because that was a felony charge, so it’s almost impossible to get an apartment or a job. You shouldn’t have to hit anybody to get your point across,” David said.

“What really helped me was the judge’s stipulation for me to go to Sacramento Community Based Coalition (SCBC). When I got out of prison I went to SCBC and I had a bed there,” Davis says. “The program helped me. It made me stronger, made me open my eyes and made me understand not only my feelings but understand the next person’s feelings too.”

David tells me after SCBC he “caught” a misdemeanor charge because of a disagreement with a neighbor. Because of a felony charge on his record, David spent four months in county jail. After he was released from jail, he suffered a series of strokes. With his support system gone, he wound up on the street.

“When I was discharged from the hospital after my strokes, I was discharged to the street. I’d never been homeless before. I was scared, I didn’t have time to be mad. I just laid down on the sidewalk,” David says. “That was ten years ago, and I’ve paid my dues. I want to be part of society and if society won’t let you in, how are homeless like me going to get off the streets?”

David tells me he is on the verge of getting “inside,” he has a case manager helping him but it’s tough because his SSI isn’t really enough to live in Sacramento with skyrocketing rent. With a felony, he has been denied apartment rentals even though he met all of the qualifications.

“You can’t go backward, but you can always do better going forward, and that’s what I’m doing,” David said.

Gloria says she first tried crystal meth at a party with her friends in Tulare County over 25 years ago. She used Meth daily after that in part to help numb the layers of pain, grief, and trauma of sexual abuse she survived as a child.

A 54-year-old mother of 2, Gloria tells me an overdose and a failed suicide attempt pushed her in the direction of a recovery program that rescued her from over two decades of addiction.

“I saw myself floating over my body and I saw myself ask my boyfriend for help, but he had his headphones on and couldn’t hear me, so I asked God to help me and then I woke up on the couch.”

Gloria found herself at Sutter Hospital battling pneumonia and having to answer tough questions by the staff like, “Did you try and hurt yourself?” When Gloria answered courageously and honestly, “Yes,” the staff at Sutter helped her get to Turning Point Crisis Residential where they guide guests like Gloria into transitional housing and addiction recovery programs. From TPCR, Gloria was accepted into Sister Nora’s house which is where she lives currently.

“I’ve been off meth for five years and I haven’t had a drink in twenty-six years. I’m super clean and I go to NA and AA and I try to keep myself positive every day. I refuse to lose anything anymore, I’ve got to stand up for “Me” because that’s all I have,” she says.

Gloria wears a small, delicate Wonder Woman necklace and when she talks about what that means to her she smiles and says, “Stand up for yourself and be strong. Don’t be afraid to say “No” and always be who you are supposed to be.”

This photo of Cornelius & April from my ongoing series “Hope vs Hope, Vignettes of the Unsheltered”, aka “Portraits of Dignity” was featured and trending on the National Geographic website.

David Y. Lee, Producer, Nat Geo Your Shot added a lengthy and humbling comment too. It is so rewarding when viewers/editors/shot producers, etc. connect with the portraits of the guests at Loaves & Fishes.

“Fantastic job presenting your portrait — I love how you included two frames, making this feel like a film negative contact sheet. I love the difference in expression between the two frames, which implies a range of emotions you documented — and that this moment captured your attention. Then I really love your detailed caption, which further shares Cornelius and April’s story. Together your photos and caption deliver a powerful story. Well done Douglas. Very well done.”   David Y. Lee, Producer, Nat Geo Your Shot

Although Cornelius & April’s story and portrait were on this blog a few months back I’m adding their story here too.

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Cornelius and April live in an early model Cadillac on the streets of Sacramento.

California natives, they met on the street four years ago. Sharing their childhood memories and experiences brought them closer together. Their struggles are very similar to each other. Cornelius and April both had to drop out school to help take care of family.

“His Mom was shot six times by his Dad, so he really had it hard growing up and trying to go through school, his sister raised him,” April says.

“I just wanted a good job, but my teachers would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up and when you tell them something and they’d say, ‘No, well, you should think along the lines of being the man who comes and picks up the trash for a job.’ I didn’t know anything about racism until then. They were always telling us things to put us down. I knew the last week of the month we never had any food, I filled out many job applications, but I could never get a job. So, I started hustling, selling drugs and all different types of stuff. It was tough seeking any kind of legal job,” Cornelius says.

April tells me Cornelius spent most of his adult life, 30 years, in the penitentiary system.

A problem many homeless living in their cars face is having their cars towed due to out of date registration, tickets or other violations.

“It’s against the law to sleep in your car,” Cornelius says. “Mostly the police want you to park your car on private property, but if we had private property that would be like somebody’s house,” April says.

April tells me she is retired, and both receive some assistance every month, but it’s just not enough to afford an apartment in Sacramento.

“We have no references for renting and the waiting lists are so long too,” April says.

April and Cornelius face each day with optimism and enjoy the simple things, like sharing candy they loved in their childhood, and they tell me that It’s nice to know they have somewhere to go in the morning when they wake up, like Friendship Park.

“It’s nice not being hungry and being able to do laundry. It’s a safe place and we can meditate there too,” April says.

Charles laughed and talked about his invention of kindness. Charles talked about how the police beat him and drove him miles away from his place behind the restaurant where he made his home. Charles spoke of the death of his daughter and the fire that consumed her, as he spoke he wept, his eyes mirror the loss and pain.

Through it all Charles smiled, laughed, and spoke of helping others and the love for his fellow man.

Andre yells from the library door into the library as he walks quickly over to the lighting set up, “To be, or not to be!”

“I came here to get a book, I didn’t even know you were here,” Andre says as we shake hands and embrace.

“Did you get a new tattoo?” I said.

“This one’s is for my kids,” he said.

Andre sits down, turning away from the light.

He pulls his t-shirt collar downward, exposing his freshly inked neck, “Winners never quit.”