When a social worker told me that my new client lived in Seattle's Tent City, I didn't know what to think. I wondered how I would find her in the homeless encampment. How would I set up an appointment? Where would we meet? Would I be safe? Although I love my court-appointed cases and appreciate the opportunity to work with "real people" with "real life issues," this new case felt like a little too much reality, far outside my professional comfort zone.
Everyone Is Patient and Polite
Picking up on my panic, the social worker calmly gave me Tent City's secret cell phone number to use to establish contact. After getting a recorded message asking me to call back, I dutifully did so at repeated intervals until finally a polite male voice answered. I explained who I was and that I needed to speak to "Jane." He told me to call back in 10 minutes because he had to go look in some tents. When I called back, he answered and passed the phone to Jane. Her voice was warm and friendly. She was expecting my call. The social worker had already told her about me.
My appointment was unusual in that Jane is over the age of majority. She suffers from Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS), and because of this in utero brain injury she has life-long cognitive impairment and collects disability. A week before we met, Jane had given birth to a healthy girl at the University of Washington Medical Center (UW). Jane originally moved to Tent City during her third trimester when she left an abusive relationship. There was nowhere else to go. UW officials discharged her the day after she gave birth even though they knew she was homeless. She left her baby in the hospital. The social worker drove her back to Tent City.
When in the hospital, Jane signed a consent form to place her baby up for adoption and voluntarily terminate her parental rights. Given the FAS history, the adoption agency lawyer recommended that a guardian ad litem (GAL) be appointed. As GAL, my job was to explain the legal documents to her and monitor the integrity of the adoption process for the court while working for her best interests. I had to make sure Jane understood what she had signed and had consented to the impending adoption - that her signature was voluntary and not a result of fraud or duress - and explain how she could appeal her consent if she changed her mind.
We agreed to a time for me to visit her at Tent City. Before hanging up, I asked Jane if she needed anything. As the stupidity of my question sunk in, I felt embarrassed. She politely answered, "Everything, really. But fresh bananas would be nice. I really miss bananas and I need the potassium." I said OK and hung up. As I processed Jane's story, I surprised myself by crying unexpectedly in my office.
My Tent City Education
Before going to meet Jane, I filled a bag of groceries for her, thinking about how everyone in my home, even the pets, are overweight and that we don't need most of the stuff in our pantry. I also collected all the personal hygiene products I could find and anything else a newly delivered mother might need. My husband's stash of little soaps and shampoos from all the hotels he visits on his business trips went into another bag. On the way to Tent City, I stopped for bananas and got some apples for good measure.
I parked on a side street adjacent to the Honey Buckets on the Tent City lot. They were lined up in a neat row next to the Dumpster, which was filled with neatly bagged refuse. As I walked to the entrance, there wasn't any litter anywhere. The tents were organized into a perimeter ring with a large community tent, the Honey Buckets and the Dumpster along the back. There was an interior ring of tents abutting each other so the "road plan" was that of a giant donut. Kids were laughing and jumping around the interior path where adults were active, too. The encampment was surrounded by bright orange plastic fencing. Bicycles were chained to trees for safekeeping. Donated items were labeled and stored neatly in clear plastic bags placed on pallets.
Greeted by Friendly Smiles
Jane told me to ask for her at the Tent City office, which turned out to be some broken-down furniture and a file cabinet on top of some pallets, all covered by a blue tarp canopy. A man with a cell phone came right over to offer help, then went off to look for Jane among the tents. When he returned with Jane, she smiled and gave me a friendly greeting.
Jane appeared tired, still recuperating from giving birth a week earlier. She was grateful for the things I brought. She especially appreciated the vitamins and hygiene products. There are no showers at Tent City, but a clergy member was trying to get permission to use the showers at a local public swimming pool. They were hopeful they might get two showers a week. They also were hoping to get Laundromat privileges, but that would take lots of quarters and laundry soap, other things they did not have. Jane was waiting for more bus vouchers so she could go back to UW for post-partum care.
As we sat under the trees, I reviewed the consent forms with Jane. She asked good questions and clearly understood the ramifications of her actions. She was familiar with the adoption process, having given up her first baby for adoption when she was 12 years old. As that information sunk in, I wanted to ask about the father of her first baby, but didn't. Besides, it wasn't relevant to the case at hand and I wasn't sure how many more "real life issues" I could take that afternoon.
I asked how she was doing and she said that Mother's Day had been very hard. She told me about the recent delivery, how the epidural had not worked and she had a natural delivery, but not by choice. She told me how she had fruitlessly begged UW for two overnights after giving birth. The social worker had found a group home for her, but she declined. It was not in Seattle. Jane wanted to return to Tent City where the bus transportation is good and she had some friends.
She told me how she and two other residents are trying to get an apartment together. An agency is helping them. She showed me a photo of her baby. It was taped to the blue tarp canopy covering the broken office furniture on the pallets. Her baby was beautiful and Jane was so proud. She repeatedly said, "I know she can get a better life than what I can give her right now."
Safety in Tent City
As I was getting ready to leave, there was a commotion on the street. We heard gun shots. Tent City is located in an intense urban setting. Within minutes, nine patrol cars appeared at the intersection. I crowded over to the encampment entrance with the Tent City residents, who were animated and worried about their safety in the neighborhood. I was worried, too. We huddled together for security and a sense of community, straining to see what the police were doing. I lingered, waiting for things to cool down. I was safe in Tent City. As I left, Jane's friends helped her carry the grocery bags to her tent, where she smiled and waved at me from the opening.
That night, as I was lying in bed thinking about my day with "real people" with "real life issues," I had a hard time falling asleep. I couldn't stop thinking about Jane and what I learned about civility that day. Tent City made me reassess my ideas and my behavior. The old expression, "There but for the Grace of God, go I," took on new meaning. With a little less luck in my life, I could have been Jane. We all live in Tent City.
Tent City is currently located in a vacant lot at E. Cherry and 22nd in Seattle, right behind the AM/PM Market. The office is at the entrance to the encampment. Stop by to ask how you can help or drop off donations. Donations are warmly appreciated, especially: non-perishable nutritious food items, personal hygiene products, gently used clothing, camping gear (including tents, blankets and sleeping bags), fresh fruit, bottled water, quarters, laundry soap, bus passes and non-alcoholic beverages. There are no refrigerators or stoves, but they have a microwave and a cell phone.
Joan Middleton is a lawyer, guardian ad litem and certified parenting evaluator. She works with children, vulnerable adults, minor settlements and adoptions. Middleton can be reached at 425-557-5910 or by e-mail at kindlawyer@hotmail.com.
