Offering financial opportunity to homeless and economically disadvantaged individuals. STREETZine is a program of The Stewpot and a member of International Network of Street Papers
Suggested donation to a vendor with a badge: $1.00 or more - La donación sugerida a un vendedor con insignia: $1.00 or more
By Wendy Rojo
The first person we interact with is our mother, and I am so grateful for the woman who raised me. She taught me to be kind, fair, honest, and, most importantly, proud of my heritage. Growing up in a Mexican American household, I was taught to appreciate both my languages and to be proud of the two cultures that make me who I am.
In fact, many women throughout my life have taught me valuable lessons, and they inspire me to be the best version of myself possible every day. My grandmother taught me to value every moment and to live life to the fullest. My sister taught me patience. My best friend taught me what unconditional love and acceptance are. My teacher, Mrs. Stone, taught me what it meant to never give up on myself.
Not only did these lessons shape the woman I am today but they also shaped what I aspire to do in life. I knew from a very young age that I wanted to help people. I did not know exactly how I wanted to help people, but I knew it was my calling.
In undergraduate school, I studied political science and focused on human rights and philosophy coursework to better understand the human experience. In graduate school, I studied communications because I wanted to increase my understanding of the impact our society has on our lives. This all furthered my desire to help people and work in a field that allowed me to do so.
I started working at The Stewpot during a tough period in my life but immediately the Writers’ Workshop became an escape. I, as many writers have noted too, am so grateful to have met every writer that attends our
workshops. Each of them has shared their story and their light with us, and I am beyond grateful to them because they encourage and inspire me every day.
Many people have inspired me throughout my lifetime and the beautiful thing is that many people will continue to inspire me daily.
Many of those who attend the Writers’ Workshop have gone through serious hardships but each of them has worked to get to a better place. I started working at The Stewpot three years ago and at the same time, some writers simultaneously started attending the workshops. The growth that these writers have shown is astonishing. They get housed, they start school, they graduate school, they get full-time jobs, or they start speaking with their families again. Each one accomplishing their own goals and being able to watch that happen and hearing about it every Friday is a gift.
The growth that these writers have shown is astonishing. They get housed, they start school, they graduate school, they get fulltime jobs, or they start speaking with their families again.
Many people have inspired me throughout my lifetime and the beautiful thing is that many people will continue to inspire me daily. I am beyond grateful to the women in my life who taught me that lifting each other is crucial in making it in a “man’s world.” To the Writers’ Workshop, I say thank you to every single person who has come and shared their story.
Wendy Rojo is managing editor of STREETZine.
STREETZine is an enrichment program of the
The STREETZine is a monthly newspaper published by The Stewpot, a ministry of the First Presbyterian Church of Dallas. The Stewpot provides services and resources for people experiencing homelessness or who are at risk of being homeless. The organization also offers opportunities for a new life.
As part of this ministry, the STREETZine seeks to raise awareness about the issues surrounding homelessness and poverty. The monthly publication also offers financial opportunity for Stewpot clients who sell the paper to Dallas residents. Vendors are able to move towards economic self-sufficiency by using the money they receive from selling copies to purchase bus passes, food, and necessary living expenses. Clients also receive stipends for contributing articles to STREETZine.
The content in STREETZine does not necessarily reflect the views or endorsement of its publisher, editors, contributors, sponsors or advertisers. To learn more about this publication, contact Betty Heckman, Director of Enrichment, 1835 Young Street, Dallas, Texas 75201 or BettyH@thestewpot.org. To read more about STREETZine, a member of the International Network of Street Papers, go to www.thestewpot. org/streetzine
Managing Editor: Wendy Rojo
Editorial Advisory Board:
The Rev. Amos Disasa
Brenda Snitzer
Suzanne Erickson
Russell Coleman
Poppy Sundeen
Sarah Disasa
William McKenzie
Betty Heckman
Dee Leone
By Reverend Dr. Charlene Jin Lee
Editor’s Note: This essay is excerpted from an tribute that Rev. Dr. Charlene Jin Lee wrote after the passing of her professor Rev. Dr. Katie Geneva Cannon.
The Rev. Dr. Katie Geneva Cannon’s classroom is where I found my voice. The agency and substance of my voice. Dr. Cannon amplified it by adding hers to mine then fading away until one day I heard the fullness of my solo sound, at times with boom boom, surprising myself at the cadence of my own truths.
We read aloud — announced, she would say — our long and boring papers to one another. The four of us and our professor around a pentagon-shaped seating arrangement, I can still hear the rustle of leaves within arm’s reach outside the open window. She listened. She listened as if we were scholars. She regarded our sentences with concise curiosity and engaged them with a depth of intellectual inquiry that we knew the caliber of our work did not merit. Soon, we were writing as if we were scholars. And, indeed, we were on our way to our own paths of scholarship, teaching, ministry, and life. There was magic in her pedagogy.
Dr. Cannon held me fiercely accountable to voice, to identity, to context in the academic exercise. No place to hide behind the safety of abstractions. I could not afford it. It was a matter of the historical survival of the particular self, of the community — legitimation of the experience of being human in the ebb of a violently lopsided structure. I learned from this praxis that what is intensely personal is intensely political.
I wrote in my acknowledgments: She is the kind of teacher-woman-scholar I want to emulate. And in the years since, in every classroom, behind every lectern and pulpit, I have made my earnest attempt. I wanted to mimic her brilliant critical analyses, her embodied theological vision, her bold dance of redemption, her impatient blinking in the presence of pretense. But these belonged only to her. I realize that what I was ultimately emulating was her
generosity, genuine curiosity, deliberate attention: her love. There was poetry in her majestic, humble way.
I realize that what I was ultimately emulating was her generosity, genuine curiosity, deliberate attention: her love.
Our first child was born in the second year of my studies at Union Presbyterian Seminary in Richmond, Virginia. The librarian assigned me a large corner carrel in the library, saying there is plenty of space for a bassinet. To this day, we call Kate, Richmond Baby. There is a photo of Dr. Cannon holding Kate on the Quad some 20 years ago. When I visited Dr. Cannon a few years back, I saw every Christmas photo card I sent each year of the family. Kate, along with her two siblings were scattered among her books on the shelves. I like to imagine that the density and buoyancy of those words, announcements of resistance, struggle, and hope, surround the children I am privileged to parent. There was motherbear warmth to her edgy, erudite mind.
I like to imagine that the density and buoyancy of those words, announcements of resistance, struggle, and hope, surround the children I am privileged to parent.
Dr. Cannon was a sage and my mentor. Her wisdom nurtured me for life and for my work. Just like her, the guidance she provided was equally prophetic, equally practical. I list here “advice” from a collection of what I learned from Dr. Cannon by what she said and by what I observed. I remember and live into these as I fashion my vocation with love. In no particular order:
Prepare. Always prepare. Go prepared. Be doubly prepared, for you are required to be expert of the truth occupying the center and expert of your own truth: “Read even when the lights are out.”
Listen. Listen attentively. But don’t listen for too long. Speak. Interrupt. Announce.
Don’t be stingy with time for people, for conversation, for relationship. Be wise, however.
Never be lazy with writing recommendation letters.
Photo Editor: Jesse Hornbuckle Continued on page 6
By Brenda Snitzer
The theme of this STREETZine issue — who impacted your life the most? — brought me back to an article I wrote on my LinkedIn account in January 2021. It was originally about my reflection on Martin Luther King Jr.’s life and legacy. As I wrote that piece, I began thinking about my own life, its influences, the legacy I would leave, and the legacy my parents have left. Besides my faith in God, which has influenced me greatly, my parents and family have impacted me the most. So, here’s what I contemplated about my life in that LinkedIn piece:
Will my legacy be about the four decades my family has served nonprofits in Dallas? I know we are not alone – many families can point to helping others. And service really wasn’t part of the first 16 years of my life. But it has been so significant since then, and has influenced me, my siblings, my husband’s siblings, and all our children.
My parents — A. David Ewing and Alma LaVaughn Garner (Bonnie) Ewing — grew up in Waco in families with very little money. They worked to put themselves through school – my dad at Baylor and my mom in nursing school with some classes at Baylor, where they met. Outside of ROTC for my dad, which helped pay for his education, neither had time for much more than work and school. After they married, they mostly spent their early adult life focused on my dad’s career and raising three children.
The commitment to serving the community came after a pivotal event in our family’s life. My youngest sister, Beverly, was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes in 1979. My father and mother became very active in the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation, which is now Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF).
They started raising money to find a cure. They became presidents of the Dallas chapter. We all went to a JDRF conference in Canada. In short, all of us became very involved. So did my father’s office.
Later, my parents began raising money for Dallas Lutheran, my sister’s high school. My mother even became its first development director. I point these examples out because volunteering and serving became our family’s way of life, enriching it and influencing our choices. In my case, I have had a 30-year career of joyful service, including now at The Stewpot and on several boards. My sisters and I have shared that love of serving with our own families.
My sister Barb works for our church, serves on its board of deacons, and works tirelessly as a volunteer for Our Friends Place. My brother-in-law Brad serves many organizations quietly and without fanfare. And, of course, my wonderful husband, David, serves through every organization I am ever connected to, as well as through our church. His siblings —John, Stephanie, and Lucia — have even served at most of the organizations I have worked for. My niece Amanda works for another nonprofit and has served on boards. My son Ryan was very involved in raising money for philanthropy in college and has served on our church’s governing body. He now is serving on the board of Camp Gilmont. My daughter-in-law, Krysta, our son Nathan, and nephew Taylor have done many mission projects, as well as volunteering throughout their lives.
Thankfully, my mother is still alive and is one of my favorite people to be with and talk to. She remains actively involved in our church, Bentwood Trail Presbyterian
Church, and supports a plethora of nonprofits, particularly those we are all involved in. (Presbyterian churches are very mission-oriented.)
My father passed away in 1985 at the young age of 49 – but he had time to make a significant impression in this world and on others. He was the partner in charge of consulting for Arthur Andersen in Dallas. People who worked for him, most of them now retired, still talk about the influence he had on them and those around him. There is an Eagle statue dedicated to him in the lobby of the Accenture headquarters in Las Colinas, where his former partners went.
Unfortunately, my sister Beverly passed away in 2011 at age 39 – health issues related to 31 years of diabetes. Even today, though, people tell me they are involved in JDRF because of my parents.
I am thankful for the influence my parents had on my life and those of others. When an upheaval changed the course for our family, they leaned in to helping and caring and taught us to love and serve others.
During these days when our country is so divided politically, maybe we can all choose love instead of hate and lean in to caring and serving. That is one way we can all grow, help others and create legacies we can all be proud of. Let us all consider the legacy we are living today.
Brenda Snitzer is the executive director of The Stewpot.
By Poppy Sundeen
This year The Stewpot celebrates half a century of caring for neighbors in need. It’s a milestone that couldn’t have been reached without lots of help from friends. One such friend is Buddy Jordan, whose involvement goes back to The Stewpot’s founding.
Buddy started going to the First Presbyterian Church of Dallas several years before The Stewpot served its first meal. “I was in college, and my dad was going to a Sunday school class there. He told me I might like it. I did like it, so my wife and I started going and eventually joined in 1969.”
When a recession hit in 1975, Buddy saw its impact on the downtown community surrounding the church. “People would come knock on the church door and ask for something to eat. The senior pastor and three associate pastors would go into kitchen, grab canned food and give it to them.”
Serving lunch from the basement
Their impromptu efforts led to consideration of a more organized food program. “The church committee came up with the idea of doing it regularly at lunch, and that’s how it got started.”
In the basement of First Presbyterian, church members and staff began preparing meals and serving them from the main entrance on Hardwood Street. “I decided to do this,” Buddy says about joining in to feed hungry neighbors, “and it opened my eyes. When I saw them on the street, they looked like they were in need. It’s one of those things you don’t forget.”
Buddy’s work schedule kept him from coming back to serve food in the months that followed, but he was sold on the program. He laughs as he recalls the debate in the church outreach committee about whether First Presbyterian could afford the $700 it would take to continue the program. “The total budget for community ministry was probably $3000 back then, so that was a big portion of it.”
“Lunch was the main thing we did until 2008,” says Buddy, referring to the year when The Stewpot began serving food at The Bridge Homeless Recovery Center a few blocks from the church.
But while meals remained central to Stewpot services, they were far from the only offerings. Programs sprang up wherever needs were identified, and Buddy was eager to help them all.
“Over the years I’ve volunteered for almost every kind of job there is at The Stewpot.” His children and grandchildren joined in serving as well.
In 2010, he co-spearheaded a major effort that expanded The Stewpot’s footprint with the purchase of the historic Warner Brothers building at 508 Park Street and the adjacent lot, now known as Encore Park. “We raised money to restore the building, construct an amphitheater, and create a community garden.”
The building renovation plus duties as chair of the Community Ministries Committee kept Buddy close by. “I was physically at The Stewpot more and more. I’d see people come to The Stewpot early and get in line for services — not just food but a variety of services — and I’d meet them while I was working on the project.”
When the renovation was complete, 508 Park became a popular venue for Stewpot Art Program exhibits, youth events, and Dallas Street Choir performances. “We had events at Encore Park with interesting people — artists, singers, musicians, actors, poets.
When he joined First Presbyterian in 1969, he was impressed by the church’s
educational approach to Christianity, but more importantly by its outreach efforts. “I have studied Christianity a lot. You reach a point where you realize that action is what’s critical. Words are very important but action is more important in my book.”
Buddy considers his active role in The Stewpot to be an expression of his faith. “I think it’s pretty clear that a critical thing that God tells us to do is to take care of the less fortunate. I feel very strongly about it.”
Generations of community members have benefited from Buddy Jordan’s commitment to The Stewpot. But Buddy will tell you that he’s the biggest beneficiary of all. “The receiver is getting a lot, and the giver is getting a lot of joy out of that. I’ve seen it over and over.”
In 2020, Buddy turned 75 and retired from his official role as an officer in the organization to make way for the next generation, but his relationship with The Stewpot is far from over. He continues to be active in fundraising, helping to pave the way for The Stewpot’s next 50 years.
Poppy Sundeen, a Dallas writer, is a member of The STREETZine editorial board.
Nicholas Kristof is a New York Times columnist who writes about international and domestic affairs with an eye toward those who have been left behind or are suffering. Before he addressed The Stewpot’s annual Soup’s On luncheon on January 27, the two-time Pulitzer Prize winner sat down with participants in The Stewpot Writers’ Workshop. His conversation with the writers and editors has been edited for length and clarity.
What drew you to reporting about people in poverty and experiencing hardships?
It was encountering these challenges and people I cared about. When I first joined The New York Times, I was covering exchange rates, oil prices, and things a thousand miles away. Then, I ended up covering crises internationally and was moved by the people I encountered. I wanted to do more to address those problems.
Meanwhile, I found a humanitarian crisis in the small Oregon farm town I grew up in. My town had been dependent upon timber, light manufacturing, and farming, but those jobs went away. Meth arrived about that same time.
Now, more than a third of the kids on my old school bus are gone from alcohol, drugs, and suicide. Seeing people that I deeply cared about struggling and losing hope made me think about what I could do with my toolbox of journalism to point to solutions and raise awareness. That’s how I came to write about these things.
I still think we as a country fail at this. And, probably, we in the media world fail at this when you think about things like the level of child poverty in America. It is hard to justify those levels. This is a practical, moral failure.
My Don Quixote side started tilting at windmills. I figure if you tilt at enough windmills, you occasionally hit one.
As you said, you come from a small town. Does being in a small town help people overcome hardships? Or does it make that harder?
towns because there were supportive networks and extended families. Over the last 50 years or so, more has been done to create support networks in cities. Meanwhile, rural economies have unraveled. There has been a netmigration of people and jobs out of rural America. And, in general, rural America has been less educated than urban America. So, people often aren’t prepared for new jobs that emerge.
We still have a vision of poverty being urban. That remains a real problem. But I remember being surprised 20 years ago to learn that the poorest county in America by per capita income was in a farm county in Nebraska. I went out there to see it, and the situation was like in my hometown. Poverty is both urban and rural.
What have you found to be the most misunderstood aspect of poverty and homelessness?
Two things come to mind. One is that poverty and homelessness are seen as hopeless. We as a society accept so much poverty because we think nothing works. We don’t do more on addiction for the same reason. Overcoming these things is hard. We can’t wave a wand, but there are things that make a difference.
The other misconception is the personal responsibility narrative, which is deeply rooted in America. When people are struggling economically, that is considered not just an economic failing, but a moral one. It’s about people making bad choices.
Bad choices are real. Anyone who struggles acknowledges that. But if we are going to have a conversation about personal bad choices, we need to have one about collective bad choices too. So much about outcomes depends upon starting points. The most important “choice” we make is the parents we are born to and the conditions in which we are raised.
Obviously, we can’t control those. This should lead us to do more to put kids on a trajectory where they are more likely to make good choices. And when they make bad ones, there is a safety net.
In your travels, you have seen different nations and groups addressing similar problems. By comparison, how do you see the United States addressing the homelessness situation? What are we doing right? What could we do better?
In December, I was in some of the poorest countries in Africa. But there is a common thread with poverty there and in the United States. We tend to measure poverty in terms of income and wealth. But in many ways, the most fundamental issue is hopelessness and not seeing a way out. In Congo, in Dallas, and in my hometown, giving people that sense of self-efficacy and vision that things can work out is part of the answer.
In terms of housing and homelessness, my view is that in red America there
Continued on page 6
has been too much of a willingness to let people fall through the cracks and too much emphasis on a personal responsibility narrative. At the same time, there has not been enough investment in education and social services. Meanwhile, in blue America there have been so many efforts in urban planning and environmental responsibility, that it has become extremely costly to build housing. So, there is an enormous shortage of housing in blue America.
Historically, we’ve had solutions like boarding houses, SROs, and trailer communities. They were not optimal, but they were a lot better than homelessness. We regulated them out of existence. Some people have some income. But not enough to put money in for security deposits and first-month rent.
How do you find a balance between red-state and blue-state America approaches?
I wish that red states were more focused on some of these long-term investments in human capital. There is some evidence that this is happening. Mississippi, for example, shows the greatest improvement in education. And, on the West Coast, there is some evidence that people understand they made it too difficult to build housing. There have been moves to put in duplexes and triplexes, for instance.
become more unequal since 1975, and problems are transmitted from generation to generation. We have become segregated by opportunity, sometimes by school district. But we have made huge gains in opportunities for women, race gaps, discrimination against gay people. And absolute poverty in the country has improved somewhat. So, I don’t think it is an unmitigated slide downward. We have studies that show what works in, say, getting better school outcomes or improving housing. We could do a lot better if we were committed to using the best evidence to solve our problems. I don’t think we have tried hard enough.
On an individual basis, you talk in your book “Chasing Hope” that success breeds success and failure breeds failure. How can an individual reverse a downward slope?
This goes back to hope. Studies show that successful interventions give people a sense that there can be a better outcome. Maybe that’s writing for STREETZine or creating art through The Stewpot. These efforts can give people a sense of accomplishment and that helps in other parts of their lives. Through nonprofits, churches, individual effort, and government programs, we can try to restore people’s sense of dignity and purpose. That goes a long way.
Reverend Dr. Charlene Jin Lee is associate pastor for practice and formation at the First Presbyterian Church of Dallas. Continued from page 5
You are out there, on the streets and elsewhere. How do you find balance in your life looking at all that despair? You’ve had us all laughing today, but how do you stay positive?
Don’t stay in my chair when someone comes into the office. Sit side by side with my guest.
It is imperative for people who work at a desk to have a creative outlet. Make, create, and publish that, too.
“People’s rejection is God’s protection.”
Strategize, collaborate with fellow humans.
Remember Kin-dom come.
Walk with dignified stride everywhere.
Do the work your soul must have.
In our last e-mail correspondence before she died too soon, Dr. Cannon showed me again her magical pedagogy, poetic humility, and mother-bear affection: “Let’s continue dialoguing until you are crystal clear about your next move.” I continue dialoguing with my beloved teacher. Even today. Even here.
What advice would you give our writers about writing in a compelling way and about issues they care about?
What I learned early on is that people are busy. Your story may be important, but it won’t do any good if people aren’t going to read it. That involves the headline, the photo that’s next to it, and the lead part of the story. You have to suck people in to read the second and then third paragraph. In journalism, we have to work harder on lassoing people in with the best story, the best writing, the best anecdote.
What are your thoughts about the difficulties of reversing a downward trajectory in terms of poverty?
I would push back that there necessarily has been a downward trajectory. This is complicated. The United States has
People who only know me through my writing think I am the most gloomy person around. You do see terribly sad things, but you also see incredible successes and triumphs. I just walked through your art studio and saw the work of people who have struggled to put their lives back together. Their art is inspiring and encouraging.
You see both parts of this side-by-side. That keeps me going.
I also am a backpacker. I flee into the mountains for nature therapy. And my wife and I have a side business making cider and wine on our farm. On the farm, I have problems I can see solved! I can revive a dying vine. You address things on a more human scale, like doing art.
Editor’s Note: Each Friday morning at 10 a.m., The Stewpot hosts a Writers’ Workshop. During the sessions, participants address selected topics through prose or poetry. In this edition of STREETZine, we feature the essays of writers that discuss the people who inspire them.
By Jason Turner
I climbed down the center of Enchanted Rock in Texas through what my Scoutmaster called the “Chasm of Death.” The squeeze was outrageously tight, with 10-to-15-foot drop-offs. The rock was cracked through the middle down to the opposite side of the mountain. We had been repelling all day, gradually going from 30-foot drops to a giant 300-foot drop alongside a waterfall and into a cave. This was one of the extraordinary experiences I had in what was formerly known as the Boy Scouts of America (BSA).
Being part of Scouts was a pivotal and important part of my upbringing.
As a 15-year-old, I took a Scout trip to Germany, France, Luxembourg, Belgium, and England. It was the most exciting trip a teenager could take, absolutely exhilarating. I got to see the miles of crosses at Normandy, the castles in London, the Mona Lisa in Paris, the many cathedrals in France, and the war exhibits in Germany, all through the BSA.
Being part of Scouts was a pivotal and important part of my upbringing. To this day, it has set the tempo on how I behave and even dress.
Summer and winter camps were my favorite times of the year because the merit badges I got to earn were through in-depth experiences I’ll most likely never do again. Indian Lore. Emergency Preparedness. Wilderness Survival. Motorboating. Even Citizenship in the Community. I earned these badges and even got to participate in a town meeting in earning the Citizenship in the Community badge.
The events I participated in went far in shaping the person I have become today. I feel like I stray a lot from the Boy Scout way, but I tried to be what the BSA referred to as physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.
The competitions among troops were insane. Our troop always placed first in fire-building, but we were not so good at
knot-tying. The color guard was intense, and I picked up the pastime of being a bugle boy to play Reveille in the morning and Taps at night.
Altogether, the BSA impacted me the most in my life. I remember the creed of being trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.
The individual who has impacted me the most is my mom. I have many memories about growing up and storytime was always the best. When she would be reading yet another book to my sisters and me, I would be playing Gameboy. She would stop reading abruptly and ask me a question to see if I had been following along. I usually got the questions right. But if I happened to get one wrong, then I wouldn’t be able to play games during storytime.
We also went to storytime at the library. There were elaborate art stories with exaggerated narratives, sock puppets, and sometimes wild animals that they let the kids play with. My mom would make it a priority for her kids to attend the library sessions and to always be reading a book or having some kind of arts and crafts.
It was my pleasure to be the loudest cheerleader when she received the Humanitarian of the Year Award through the school district while I was in high school.
My mom is retired now but she used to head the behavior unit at the local intermediate school. Sometimes, she was a substitute teacher in my junior high classes. She never wrote referrals and had a way of connecting with parents and other teachers. All my friends knew her and most of the neighborhood enjoyed speaking with her at the grocery store and other outings. It was my pleasure to be the loudest cheerleader when she received the Humanitarian of the Year Award through the school district while I was in high school. I was so proud of her hard work.
My mom and dad are still married, and she participates in prayer groups
and reading groups, and volunteers at shelters. She also donates to the places I went to during my time of homelessness. She was a Girl Scout leader as well. I remember helping the Scouts on a few of their camping trips.
She says I’m the master of getting resources and loves to tell her friends what I’ve accomplished after hard times living on the streets. Because of her and the Boy Scouts of America, I feel like I was well prepared to deal with the hardships I encountered in life.
Once, for example, I was left behind by a fellow truck driver in Colorado during a huge ice storm. I went to sleep near a lake because the breeze was nice but woke up to a frozen body of water. That’s how crazy cold it got in just under 10 hours. Thanks to the Wilderness Survival badge I earned in Boy Scouts, I built a temporary shelter and kept warm. I also used resources to contact my father in Houston, who flew out to Denver and rented a car to drive me home. The experience was very scary but my family and friends on Facebook admitted later that it was pretty impressive how I handled myself.
The Boy Scouts of America is now called Scouting America. Despite the change in name, I would like to volunteer or adopt a boy just to have him go through the Scouts like I did. Unfortunately, it’s just not the same.
I always saw myself teaching a merit badge or two, or leading a 100-mile hike through a state park. I stay in contact with my mom; we share Bible verses every day. I listen to her book recommendations if I have spare time to check them out from the library. I can’t stress the impact she and this group made in my life. To this day, my mom and the BSA help me with integrity and being well-rounded.
Jason Turner is a writer in The Stewpot Writers’ Workshop.
By Darin Thomas
Cookie Rodriguez became a big influence in my life starting when I was a teenager. I had been kicked out of all the schools I had attended in and around Dallas. Finally, I went to Cookie Rodriguez’s small school for troubled teenagers, which was held in a church in Pleasant Grove.
Cookie was from the Bronx and had been through a lot in her life as a young adult. But she changed her life and started helping young teenagers. Cookie and her beautiful family ran Street Church Academy in Pleasant Grove, and they loved working with us and keeping us off the streets and away from drugs and trouble.
Back in New York, Cookie used to sell drugs and her body and played all kinds of games with people. She was straight from the streets and had been really addicted to drugs. But she got off drugs,
By Gershon Trunnell
stopped selling her body, and quit living the street life.
She married her husband, Demie, had children, and moved to Virginia, where they opened up a halfway house. Her oldest son ran it after Cookie and the rest of her family moved to Dallas and started helping young teenagers. Cookie, her husband, her two daughters, and her younger son, Danny, became part of my life when I started at her academy. Cookie was a blessing and a big influence in my life.
She especially helped me when I told her my father was incarcerated in prison for murdering my mother. Cookie was like WOW!!!! She talked to me about forgiveness and to pray about what happened to my mother. She told me to forgive my father and let God deal with him. Cookie said that’s what my mother would want me to do. I thought about what she said and put it in motion. That helped me start to forgive my father and
The first person who had the most impact on my life is Joseph from the Bible. I share some of his attributes. People could relate to him. The same with me. And, like Joseph, I can decode my dreams and visions and use my spiritual gifts and talents to show everyone they are different.
I have gone through things similarly to what I have read about Joseph. I obviously didn’t meet him, but there is a connection. Joseph experienced exile and I have experienced exile myself through being homeless. Also, like him, all my siblings were older, and we traveled different paths,
Enoch is the other person who has influenced me. I am fond of this figure from the Bible because we also have traveled the same path. Like him, I am not religious and am a free spirit. I feel like I am sent to deliver the message of the elders to warn people about the evils that plague our world and to post information about the judgments and punishments of the evildoers and to remind the fallen of their future.
My mother and father also influenced me. They told me what was to come and how to get through the times at hand. They trained me to be who I am this day. I am thankful, grateful, and honored to have known them and many others in my life.
Gershon Trunnell is a writer in The Stewpot Writers’ Workshop.
others who had hurt me.
Once I got older, I started working for Cookie with troubled teenagers about my age. I gave back to young people and the community. She had me picking up kids from all over Dallas and bringing them to D-Boy Community Center near East Dallas. She named the center after Danny, who was murdered. He was standing outside his apartment when some guys were having a shootout. Danny, aka D-Boy, was getting out his car when he was shot in the head. He was pronounced dead on the scene.
Mrs. Rodriguez and her family became my family. She was my godmother and will always be in my heart and forever loved. She made me a better person.
Darin Thomas is a writer in The Stewpot Writers’ Workshop.
By James Varas
I began this essay by writing about my dad. I love my dad, and he has had a great life experience. He was born in Peru and came to the United States and graduated with honors. He has a bachelor’s degree in industrial engineering and a master’s degree in business and finance. My dad has done very well. He travels the world and lives the dream. My dad rescued me like the prodigal son returning home after leaving a war.
Even with all that said, I know of only One who is there with me every day of my life. When I rise each day, He comforts me and heals me and washes me white as snow. He cleanses me of all unrighteousness.
Now I know it isn’t fair to put this kind of love in the same category with mortal people. Jesus was born of a virgin, and He gave his life for me. How could
By Mike McCall
When I was finally released from being incarcerated, I acquired a spot at The Bridge and enrolled in the Intensive Outpatient Treatment Program that Metrocare offers. This was a requirement for my probation but without it I wouldn’t be where I am today.
Through this program I met someone who introduced me to the Writers’ Workshop at The Stewpot. I showed up on a Friday for my first class with only monetary goals and very little knowledge about writing. Three years later, I’m showing up to see my family of writers who helped me rediscover what it feels like to be a part of something bigger than myself. What it feels like to be a part of a group of people who give their time with the purest form of altruism. What it’s like to have my voice heard and accomplishments applauded. What it’s like to live with dignity again and with a support group that I now consider friends.
For the first time in a while, I started to believe in myself and others. I was encouraged to write from the heart and tell my story.
Finding a group of individuals who make you feel accepted without judgment is
anyone ever measure up to perfection and the Son of God? So maybe, I am being unfair to compare my dad to Jesus Christ.
I love my dad. He tries his best and he tries to love me as he does. I play chess with him and talk to him about life. We eat and drink together at family gatherings. Maybe I am being selfish for wanting to have him in my life every day.
So now we go back to the mortal part. I have Jesus Christ with me each day. He is the door to my Heavenly Father. Jesus tells me in His Word that we have only one Father: Our Heavenly Father.
Why did He say that? Because everyone needs a father. Even if you have never seen your natural dad, you will always have Jesus Christ as a Father, and He will lead you to the Heavenly Father.
Then you learn that Jesus Christ and the Heavenly Father are One. The Holy Spirit might be considered like a mother.
a critical step for a recovering addict. Isolation is our enemy and feeling stigmatized is our reality. All my fear melted away as soon as I entered the Writers’ Workshop group. I was greeted with authentic smiles and, for those who don’t know, some of the finest homemade treats ever made. Most addicts are very timid to enter unfamiliar environments but this room upstairs at The Stewpot felt as warm as the rays of the rising sun touching your face. While making some extra cash through writing was still on my mind, the feeling of belonging became my biggest payday.
For the first time in a while, I started to believe in myself and others. I was encouraged to write from the heart and tell my story. Over time, my defenses lowered, and I felt safe to let the group become a part of my life. I removed layers of pain and suffering through my words and found a group of individuals I could trust and admire. I began to feel like I was part of a team. Connected with some of the most caring people I have ever met. Forming lasting bonds with influential writers who to me felt like family. A family comprised of the best this world has to offer. A family that would help me stay sober by giving me a new purpose. A weekly reminder that I am right where I need to be, and this is what life is all about.
Wisdom guides us. King Solomon wrote “she” will guide you. Wisdom is grander than rubies and gold. She will give you life and keep you on the path of righteousness.
So, in all fairness, I am writing to you about my greatest inspiration. My dad is a great inspiration but there is only one who can satisfy my soul. Jesus Christ is the one who completes me. He is my joy, He is my happiness, He is my strength to live each day. He carries me and He loves me with no conditions, even when I stumbled across things in this life. He is my Living Water when I am thirsty. He carries me like an injured lamb over His shoulder. Jesus Christ is the Tree of Life. I reach each day to Heaven and someday I will walk with my Savior to the Throne Room of God. Amen.
James Varas is a STREETZine vendor and a writer in The Stewpot Writers’ Workshop.
I have heard and come to believe that the opposite of addiction is connection. Finding peace and purpose through the company you keep. The Writers’ Workshop helped me gain the acceptance I unconsciously yearned for while showing me that the true goodness of people still existed.
It’s been three years since I first walked through the workshop’s doors. I have shared my accomplishments and losses every step of the way with my newfound friends. Learning how to be a better writer along with becoming a better person. I have unleashed a side of myself which had laid dormant for years through this group’s connection. Which in my opinion has become more valuable than all the gold in the world.
I can’t thank you all enough for the life you have helped me build. Who would have ever thought that a page full of words could change someone’s life the way it did mine.
Mike McCall is a writer in The Stewpot Writers’ Workshop.
By Savita Vega
Probably the one person who has had the most influence on me in my life is my father. He was the eldest of eight kids, born into a farming family in 1935, at the height of the Great Depression. However, as my grandmother once explained when I asked, the Great Depression had little impact on them. They were already so poor and so isolated that they weren’t really aware it was happening.
They lived in the Big Thicket in Southeast Texas, where they grew their own vegetables and fruits and hunted hogs and slaughtered cattle and chickens for meat. The only thing they bought when they made their weekly trip into town in my poppa’s mule-drawn wagon was, as Granny said, sugar, salt, coffee, and rice. They lived in a log cabin and, as my father described it, it was his job as the eldest to sweep the floor every night before bed. When he would sweep, the cracks between the planks were so wide that the dirt would simply fall through to the ground below.
When my dad was a young teenager, he took up hunting hogs for a living. My great-grandfather was a mule-skinner, whose job was to drive a team of mules as they pulled a wagon full of logs. My grandfather was a logger. Eventually, my dad would take his place in the timber industry, working at a small mill down the road. He worked his way up to foreman and then timber estimator. He never finished school past the third grade and never learned to read or write, but he knew timber and he was naturally good at math. By the time I was a small child, he’d started his own company logging large tracts of timber and employing dozens of loggers.
All of this isn’t really the point, though. It just leads up to and sets the background for what I want to say about my father, which is that for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in both good times and bad, he was consistently the most resilient person I have ever met in my life. And in many ways, I think he passed this on to me, because I have, as I’ve noticed, what I think of as a sort of positivity bias. No matter how bad things get, no matter what hardship or calamity hits, it only takes me a short while, usually hours or less, to right myself again and begin to look on the bright side. Somehow, even
without trying — as though it were an innate reaction within me — somehow, I always find something positive about the situation.
No matter how bad things get, no matter what hardship or calamity hits, it only takes me a short while, usually hours or less, to right myself again and begin to look on the bright side.
My house could burn down and within a few days I would find myself saying, “Well, I’ve been interested in exploring minimalist living for a while. Now’s my chance!” Sometimes this urge toward positivity is so strong, so automatic that it almost annoys me. But I have to admit that it is very conducive to getting up, dusting oneself off, and moving on after a fall.
This positivity bias which enables me to so easily get up and move on is, as well, an attribute that I can only credit to my father. He wasn’t necessarily what everyone would always call reasonable, but he was indeed always five steps ahead of everyone else in terms of recovering from whatever hardship there was to deal with.
The most blatant example I can remember of this almost stubborn sense of resilience came in the early 1980s when the timber industry suddenly went bust. People stopped building houses, timber became dirt cheap, and even the mills were struggling to stay afloat. My dad’s logging business went under, and he was forced to declare bankruptcy.
But I have to admit that it is very conducive to getting up, dusting oneself off, and moving on after a fall.
During this same period, however, and much to my mother’s dismay, he went out and bought a new baby blue Lincoln Continental Mark IV and started buying up land like crazy with whatever cash he could get his hands on or get investors to come forth with. No doubt, him driving that car was part of what gave them the confidence to make the investments that would lead into his next venture, a land and timber business which would remain successful until he was well into his 80s.
Savita Vega is a writer in The Stewpot Writers’ Workshop.
A View from Nature
By Vicki Gies
Spring is just around the corner, and beautiful things are starting to take place!
I love my natural surroundings — the beauty of the changing seasons and the awesome colors brought about by that change — several shades of green, yellow, white, and blue. In nature, I love all the animals that live by me or around me. Let’s start with my bird world.
I live very close to White Rock Lake, and there is a wide variety of birds, from sparrows to the bald eagle. Those eagles are Nick and Nora. The people in Lake Highlands named them that, I believe, and that neighborhood watches over them.
They hatched two eaglets a year ago, but a bad storm came, and one of the eaglets was lost. The other eaglet remained and came to be known as Henley. I have not seen Henley yet, but I did see one of the eagles fly over me the other day. It was a truly majestic animal that took my breath away. Further down the lake, there are a variety of waterfowl, all with various habitats and habits.
The beginning of spring for all birds, except the monk parakeets, is building time. Most of the common birds build
their nests within the trees or big bushes. I love to watch them build. Hardy little birds fly back and forth, bringing sticks and weaving them into their homes. Geese, on the other hand, build their nest at the lake’s edge. I have never been able to get close enough to see them work because geese can be very temperamental, and they can and will bite if agitated! Yes, the geese have teeth, and their teeth are very sharp.
The other bigger birds — pelicans, herons, and egrets — usually build on the island in the spillway. I have seen pelicans nest over by the Bath House Cultural Center, but I have never actually seen a pelican’s nest. I do hope to one day see a baby pelican. The ducks and mallards mostly build on dry land around the lake. After the ducklings hatch, I enjoy watching them swim, and the most I have seen is 12 ducklings.
I have heard that White Rock Lake has a visiting mandarin duck that is not native to America, but the colors on the mandarin duck are striking. Another beautiful bird species is the monk parakeet. They look similar to the Quaker parrots. They have so much energy when
Check out our blog that captures stories, events, and moments in the lives of participants in The Stewpot Writers’ Workshop.
Here is a preview of our latest blog post by Darin Thomas: “Every time I get into trouble, I pick up my Bible and ask for forgiveness and realize God has my back. He never has left or forsaken me. God loves me and wants me to follow Him and Jesus Christ. He lets me see the light!”
Read more at www.thestewpot.org/street-level/
it comes to creating their nest. They do not build a single nest they build what I like to call multiple condos. They, unlikely many other birds, work year-round on their nest.
At different times of the day, two or more of them leave to gather stickers to bring back to their building sites, which include electrical pylons and stations. The entrance to this very large “condo” is on the bottom. And it is magnificent because they are always building. One condo can house up to a hundred birds, with each pair having their own small space to raise their young. That is a lot of families!
Vicki Gies is a STREETZine vendor and frequent contributos.
What is STREETZine? STREETZine is a nonprofit newspaper published by The Stewpot of First Presbyterian Church for the benefit of people living in poverty. It includes news, particularly about issues important to those experiencing homelessness. STREETZine creates direct economic opportunity. Vendors receive papers to be distributed for a donation of one dollar or more.
Distributing STREETZine is protected by the First Amendment.
STREETZine vendors are self-employed and set their own hours. They are required to wear a vendor badge at all times when distributing the paper. In order to distribute STREETZine, vendors agree to comply with Dallas City Ordinances.
If at any time you feel a vendor is in violation of any Dallas City Ordinance please contact us immediately with the vendor name or number at streetzine@thestewpot.org
31, SECTION 31-35 of the Dallas City Code
Solicitation by coercion; solicitation near designated locations and facilities; solicitation anywhere in the city after sunset and before sunrise any day of the week. Exception can be made on private property with advance written permission of the owner, manager, or other person in control of the property.
A person commits an offense if he conducts a solicitation to any person placing or preparing to place money in a parking meter.
The ordinance specifically applies to solicitations at anytime within 25 feet of:
Automatic teller machines, exterior public payphones, public transportation stops, self-service car washes, self-service gas pumps, an entrance or exit of a bank, credit union, or similar financial institution, outdoor dining areas of fixed food establishments.
Any