Homeless:

Continued From Page 4 he was supposed to marry.

“They told us yesterday that they’re trying to get everybody out of here as soon as they can,” Honeker said. “They want to level everything out and get everyone in temporary placement.”

Honeker was visibly upset as he recalled the time he and Fred were separated when Honeker landed in a temporary shelter in Asbury Park.

“Steve helped me out and I got reunited with my dog,” Honeker said. “I’ve been here since November.”

Originally from Beachwood, 55-year-old Victoria O’Connor suffered a brain aneurysm that left her paralyzed on her right side. She laughed when asked if she immigrated from England prior to moving to Ocean County.

“After my aneurysm, I started to have the accent,” chuckled O’Connor. “I wish it was Irish instead.”

O’Connor said she spent two and a half years in rehabilitation to recover from her aneurysm. After she moved in with her brother, O’Connor stated that she was tricked into leaving because of addiction issues. Although now sober for four years, O’Connor spent some time living outside the Lacey Library, facing daily interactions with the police.

A year ago, Brigham extended a lifeline by providing O’Connor with a tent, giving her a place to call her own.

Two of the tents occupied within the encampment provide shelter for families who lost their homes when the Surf and Stream Campground owners sold their property to the county government. The new owner of that Manchester property had big plans for developing it, but the county was able to buy it and make it open space. Either way, the people were kicked out.

Three cots fit together like a puzzle piece in the tent occupied by the Jamison family. Frances, 64, said she and her family lived at Surf and Stream for 19 years. A thin tube inserted into the frail woman’s nostrils led to an oxygen concentrator hooked up to a generator.

Frances, who is battling COPD and a kidney blockage, said that although she and her 72-yearold husband, Robert are separated, he lives with her as her caretaker. The couple’s 37-year-old son William nervously caressed Lulu, the family’s devoted English bulldog who was somehow squeezed into the tight space.

While mental health challenges prevent William from working, he also admitted he wanted to be there to help his ailing mother. Frances interjected by proudly calling her son a “Mama’s Boy.”

Kelly Forcier, 57, also came from the Surf and Stream campgrounds and is situated in a tent near the Jamison family. While she isn’t always hooked up to oxygen, she also relies on the generators to provide it to her when she needs it.

Despite his knowledge of the impending shut down of Surf and Stream, Forcier said the manager encouraged her to buy a new camper. COPD is just one of Forcier’s medical issues that have contributed to her totally disabled designation. Two months ago, Forcier found out there was a place for her within the encampment.

“We tried asking for help while we were there (Surf and Stream),” Forcier said. “They were going to give me a week in a hotel room. I get Social Security and could afford a hotel room through the winter, but then where? What about food?”

A white haired man with an air of distinction couldn’t say enough about how fortunate he was to find a home within the encampment. Morrow Hayes, 78, said he earned an MBA from Wharton School of Business and had a flourishing career as a commercial real estate developer.

As Hayes held onto his cherished pup, Brutus, he said that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if the encampment shuts down. He agreed to go with the social services team to the hospital to get checked out. Hayes called Brigham to pick him up upon his release from the medical facility.

“I’ve been here several months,” shared Hayes. “This would be catastrophic if things are shut down. It’s well run with no crazy behavior.”

One of the other community members walked past Hayes to agree with him. He also whispered that Hayes sometimes gets confused and can’t always find his way back to his tent.

Katie Grow, 68, moved from Glen Ridge to Beachwood a couple of decades ago. Glen Ridge is an affluent community with a median income of $243,000. Katie had a booming career doing ad sales when her life changed.

Rather than speak within the confines of the tent she shares with her family, Katie motioned to a tent reminiscent of a small conference room with four chairs and a long table. Apparently, earlier rains seeped through as the seat was more than a little wet as the interview commenced.

“I’m not scared of hard work,” Katie asserted. “My husband and I raised our family and made plenty of money. But we didn’t save for a rainy day – we were busy taking care of other people.”

A philosophical and fiercely articulate woman, Katie plans to write a book about her experiences. It won’t be one that focuses on the

“woe is me.” After all, Katie invokes a daily mantra that she says comes from the lyrics of Stevie Wonder’s “In the Key of Life.”

“You know sometime in life’s hate and troubles, can make you wish you were born in another time and space,” paraphrased Katie. “But you can bet your life…that God knew exactly where he wanted you to be placed.”

Katie said that she lost her job after doctors gave her opiates for intractable pain and she became addicted to them. She lives at the camp with her husband, Dennis, Sr. and their son, Dennis, Jr., who has some mental health issues. The family also has two aging cocker spaniels from the same litter – one with a visible tumor on its back.

“We’re all living on my $753 check each month,” Katie said. “Where else can we go?”

The snapshot of the residents within the encampment are enough to cause anyone to lose sleep. Many of the people said they already felt let down by some of the agencies that showed up to help them. They worry that alternatives to their current conditions could find them separated from their families or forced to give up their loyal pets. And, then there’s the problem of anything less than permanent placement. No one appeared to have family or friends to turn to – as those options had already been discounted.

Ocean County Commissioner Bobbi Jo Crea, who initiated the homelessness task force and fund, revealed the level of compassion she feels for every person without a roof over their heads.

“We’ve begun the first steps to working on this issue,” said Crea. “Our plan is to get input from the various agencies and nonprofits to point people in a direction that offers them the help they need.”