Vendor Writing

America (for some)

JOHN H., CONTRIBUTOR VENDOR

God made a commandment that we should love one another. Today, people all over the world protest that love. I, myself, have been protesting over 40 years. Things that have happened here in America since day one are unjust to some.

I remember when I was in the high school marching band. At concerts, games, etc., when I had to play the National Anthem, I would sit my drumsticks on the floor. Or, if I’m on the football field, I would place them on the ground.

Just a few years back, I was attending church service and they sang the National Anthem. Everyone stood, put their hand on their heart. I stayed seated. Many asked why, I said, “You wouldn’t understand or if I told you the real truth, you couldn’t handle it. Songs like, “America,” in which they sing, “Land where the pilgrims cry” — what can the pilgrims cry about? They had slaves to do all the work, so what can upset you enough to make you cry? Bull.

Watch the Crucifixion on TV, many of those characters that they displayed were black. I guess what I’m saying is, the way America has brainwashed humans, the equality of it all—it’s a sad story. That’s why I have no kids, simply because I didn’t want them to be confused of who they are or to whom they are supposed to be.

Many African Americans actually need counseling, taught over again and educated on what has happened. Ain’t gonna be easy cleaning up these folks’ acts, but we must start. Let’s all ask God together. He says in his word, “If we trust and believe that he will do for you, He will!” So educate yourself and let God handle your battle.

Amazing how God used Black people to fulfill his word. Yet, America made Black people feel as though all they were worth is labor and building America. Things are going to change though. I can see it. Sad that Ahmaud had to lose his life to bring about change. To the millions protesting, I just want to say thank you.

From Hopeless, to Homeless, to Home

BY BRIAN B., CONTRIBUTOR VENDOR

Imagine living the “Good Life,” married to the girl of your dreams, four beautiful children, a great job, and a comfortable home. LIFE IS GOOD! Then without warning tragedy strikes, and it doesn’t stop with just one blow. All of a sudden, you find yourself widowed, raising the youngest two alone, and in a tent, wondering each day if you’ll be able to find the food needed to feed your boys. The life you find yourself in is so far from anything you could have imagined, that you don’t even know where to look for help.

This is where I was when I wandered by the Downtown Presbyterian Church, where I saw a line of men and women at the back door. Upon inquiring, I found they were buying and selling newspapers. I figure, “why not.” I signed up. Every day, I would go out, find a spot and hope people would buy my papers, at least enough for us to eat. I had very little success over the course of a week, so I gave up.

I struggled through the next year or so, finding what resources I could, trying to keep my family fed and indoors as much as possible. Many days I would “fly a sign” asking for a handout. I had given up on my ability to provide for us on my own. However, I was feeding my children, that is until COVID-19 struck America. The virus closed down the places I would panhandle, cutting off the money I had come to rely on.

Feeling hopeless, and trying to figure out what to do now, The Contributor newspaper came back to mind. I signed up again, this time with a deep desperation. I took the 15 papers they had given me to get started, found a place, and set up. Determined, I stayed four and a half hours, sold two papers, and made a grand total of seven dollars. Yes, it sucked, but it did buy food.

So the next day I found a new spot and tried again, this time selling no papers but receiving a “gift” from a man of $10 — again able to buy food for one more day. This went on for several days. I would put in long hours and barely make enough to get by each day. My papers were running out. I had three left, and decision time was rapidly approaching. Yes, I was getting the money needed for food, but just barely. Should I spend the much needed money on more papers or not? Was this really helping, or was I wasting time and energy on a dead end? I made my decision, I would try one

more place, sell my last three papers and be out of the newspaper business. I had heard of a place where a former vendor had some success, my current spot.

Like everywhere else, the people in this location had dealt with their share of homeless people “working their patrons.” They, employees and customers alike, looked at me with a combination of pity and distaste, and some even with disgust. However, this community had come to like and respect The Contributor paper, and the mission it stood for. They gave me a chance. With only three papers, I left that day with almost forty dollars. For the first time I had made not only enough to cover the day’s expenses but to also buy more papers. With a glimmer of hope and a fresh stack of papers I returned the next day.

Within a few weeks, as I continued to speak with my customers, they began to get to know me a little. Day by day, my paper sales increased as others began to purchase my papers. My sales grew rapidly, sometimes so much that I would find myself sold out with still a couple of days left before I could buy more. Granted this is a good problem to have, but it was still a problem resulting in lost opportunities. However, with the growing success I seemed to lose the feeling of being hopeless. Even though we were still homeless things were getting better.

With the continued patronage of my customers, I was able to combine my small disability check with my paper earnings and get a small, two bedroom apartment. Now, I’ve seen a lot of wonderful things in my life, but NONE have ever come close to the look of true joy on my boys’ faces as we unlocked “our” door for the first time. We’ve now been in our apartment for almost three weeks, haven’t missed a meal in over two months, and are home.

Now as we continue our progress back towards the “good life” we seem to have developed a better understanding of what a good life truly is.

So I wrote this article for one purpose. Just to say thanks to the men and women working behind the scenes at The Contributor for helping to change my “hopelessness” into just “homelessness.” And a very special thank you to all of my customers, past and future, who helped me change “homeless” to “home.”