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By Wendy Rojo
My favorite summertime memory is my dad turning on the water hose and spraying us to cool down. He would call it my personal waterfall. If you ask anyone from Texas they will tell you that the scorching heat is no joke and actually quite scary.
In fact, the Texas Tribune found that in 2023, 334 people died of heat-related causes from January 1st to November 30th. The Tribune also discovered that the number of deaths related to heat have steadily increased since 2021. The deaths correlate to the increased heat index these past years. The heat index is a combination of the air temperature and the humidity.
Nationally, the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that about 1,220 people die each year in America due to extreme heat. The effects of the heat are visible both physically and mentally when dealing with the elements.
According to the World Health Organization, the strain that the heat puts on a person attempting to cool down affects not only their physical wellbeing but their mental health too. Heat-related issues are extremely dangerous especially if you are dealing with hot temperatures throughout the day.
Nationally, the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that about 1,220 people die each year in America due to extreme heat.
The Mayo Clinic reports that some commonside effects of extreme heat include irritability, fatigue, and exhaustion. These effects can lead a person to act irrationally and increase their stress level. The Mayo Clinic further claims that a person’s medication dose affects their reaction to extreme heat. For example, those who may be schizophrenic
or bipolar have a harder time regulating their body temperature due to their medication.
Those experiencing homelessness, and thus dealing with the elements all day, likewise are susceptible to the heat. The National Integrated Heat Health Information System claims that those who are homeless may be at a higher risk of heat-related injuries due to such medical conditions as diabetes, high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and heart disease.
When your biggest concern of the day is how you are going to cool down, or constantly must find a safe place to sleep, the stress is immense.
Those experiencing homelessness are vulnerable because they have to constantly think about and deal with the heat, unlike those of us who consider the heat only when we are outside or when our air-conditioning unit gives out. When your biggest concern of the day is how you are going to cool down, or constantly must find a safe place to sleep, the stress is immense. Writers in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop explain these realities in their essays in this edition.
Luckily, there are resources throughout the city to ease some of the stress people face. Housing Forward North Texas compiled a list of cooling centers throughout Dallas that are open to anyone who needs cooling services. As in previous years, the City of Dallas is turning all of its public libraries and recreational centers into cooling stations.
Some locations allow pets but unfortunately not all do. That can discourage a person from going to a cooling center.
We know the summer heat is not over in Texas. So, we must continue to provide resources to those who will need a hand until fall finally arrives.
Wendy Rojo is managing editor of STREETZine.
STREETZine is a program of The Stewpot.
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
Photo Editor: Jesse Hornbuckle
By Reverend Dr. Charlene Jin Lee
Editor’s Note: A portion of this essay was shared in a sermon that Dr. Jin Lee preached at the First Presbyterian Church of Dallas on July 7, 2024.
In one of the religion classes I taught at a college in California, I would ask students to reflect on an ancient text of a prophet’s picture of true community: Where the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, the calf and the lion will graze together, as a small child leads them along (Isaiah 11).
Students were to write an essay with an assigned title: “Borrow My Vision.” It was an invitation for each student to envision a just society. A powerful essay was submitted by a quiet, 6’7” basketball player who crouched into the tight table-chair combo in an early morning class. The college senior started his paper with a poem:
Borrow my vision
and you will see fathers embrace their sons with contagious strength.
You will stand tall, really tall, stand proud.
You will walk, walk everywhere, anywhere, even without a shield.
Borrow my vision and you will see me. All of me.
Not just my skin and the fear you choose to see of it.
He followed these words with a moving essay reflecting on how coming to college and walking around campus donning the college basketball team’s crimson uniform was the first time he saw people walk toward, not away, from him.
As an African American young man, he knew what it was to be subject to unwarranted suspicion. In his incisive essay, he wrote about his jersey. It was his protection. It was his shield. He was especially sure to wear it when running errands in the neighborhood around campus. The jersey let people know he was safe, not dangerous; he was a college athlete, at a private university no less. He ended his essay worrying about life after graduat-
ing, when he could no longer rely on this protection.
I thought about the time I turned around hearing, “Good morning, prof,” at a gourmet market near campus.
I waved my student over to treat him to his selection of breakfast: two pink glazed donuts and green juice. There we were, standing at the checkout, feeling the eyes of the people in line uniformly, silently, turning toward us: Quite visibly, the only two people of color in this place.
We smiled, happy to see one another, feeling the strength of our feet grounded next to each other another, feeling the curious attention of the people around us. As we walked toward the exit, he grinned, “Good thing I’m wearing my jersey today. They were probably afraid I was going to hurt this petite Asian lady.” If only they knew the lamb-like heart inside this towering figure, I thought.
Though over the years I have built some muscles around my soul to shield from darting disregard, there are times I wish for some protection.
I too have known versions of perceiving people’s misjudgments: some iteration of dismissive condescension, at worst, or underestimation of my unassuming posture, at best. Though over the years I have built some muscles around my soul to shield from darting disregard, there are times I wish for some protection.
It helps when we see another’s feet next to ours, reminding us that we are not standing alone.
Ever perpetual foreigners, people who look like me have historically and in a particular way in recent years been targets of covert and overt racism. It is a very lonely place to be. It helps when we see another’s feet next to ours, reminding us that we are not standing alone. It helps to borrow the hope of those who have known that utterly lonely place far deeper, far longer.
Borrow my vision
and you will see fathers embrace their sons with contagious strength.
Continued on page 5
By Brenda Snitzer
I am proud to be the General Assembly Chair of Housing Forward’s All Neighbors Coalition. The work we do is extremely important to ending homelessness in our region.
The All Neighbors Coalition is a collective of over 140 organizations that collaborate to solve homelessness in Dallas and Collin counties. We do so by providing resources and support to individuals experiencing homelessness in our counties. We also work closely with Housing Forward, the lead organization in the Continuum of Care. (A Continuum of Care – CoC – is a regional or local planning body that coordinates funding for housing and services for homeless families and individuals.)
I know there are a lot of names and acronyms in here, but these various organizations work together to combat homelessness. Collaboration is one of the most important lessons service providers have learned over time. We cannot solve homelessness one organization at a time. We need to do this collectively.
In the case of the All Neighbors Coalition, we optimize the combined strengths and resources of our partnering organizations
and the neighbors we serve. Membership in the coalition is always open. The values that guide us are teamwork, transparency, and tenacity. And our aim is to make homelessness rare, brief, and nonrecurring.
The coalition’s collective programs are based on a Housing First model. Neighbors experiencing homelessness are moved into housing as quickly as possible. Then, they receive supportive case management services and any necessary mental or physical health services to stabilize them in housing.
Since 2021, working together as a system has allowed the All Neighbors Coalition and Housing Forward to drive down homelessness in Dallas and Collin counties. We have witnessed a decline in overall homelessness by 19% and in unsheltered homelessness (those living outside on the streets or in tents/cars) by 24%. Since 2021, more than 10,100 people experiencing homelessness in Dallas and Collin counties have been housed. (See the most recent State of Homelessness figures at housingforwardntx.org)
As part of this system, the CoC ensures that U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development funds are distributed to organizations based on their highest scoring on proposals for federal funding. The success of Dallas and Collin counties resulted in the CoC receiving $27 million in federal dollars in FY 2023.
The CoC received additional sources of funding as well. That includes $9.4 million
to address youth homelessness; $2 million for rapidly placing victims of domestic violence in housing and coordinating street outreach; $22.8 million to help the unsheltered receive housing vouchers that can last permanently; and $2.1 million to assist folks before they have to enter the homeless response system.
Importantly, each of these areas has garnered millions in other funding to combat homelessness in our community. And the success in these projects has drawn outside attention, including from the White House. Its U.S. Interagency Council on Homelessness has begun a two-year partnership to speed up the successes of reducing homelessness in our counties and to observe best practices in our system.
What’s more, the collaborative work of our system has led to a decrease in our two counties in youth homelessness, family homelessness, and veterans’ homelessness. The federal government just recently declared our community as having effectively ended veterans’ homelessness, which means we are housing any veteran that becomes homeless within 90 days.
Thanks to the All Neighbors Coalition’s 140 organizations and the leadership of Housing Forward, we all are making a collective impact on ending homelessness in our community.
Brenda Snitzer is the executive director of The Stewpot.
By Poppy Sundeen
On June 2nd of this year, North Texas experienced a storm of biblical proportion. Torrential rain led to flash flooding. Hail pummeled streets and buildings. High winds blew down trees and scattered the streets with limbs. Most people found it harrowing, but not Charles William. “I loved it,” he says, “because I could hear the wind like God’s fan going thwip, thwip, thwip.”
“Earth is my home. I’m just unhoused.”
Charles feels the presence of God in nature and prefers living outside in the elements. At 50 years old, however, the unsheltered life is challenging. “It’s more difficult now. I have diabetes. In the heat, my energy drains faster.” He also contends with the consequences of a shattered femur. “I got shot in the leg a couple of years ago and have a rod in my leg.”
Currently, he’s working on getting rehoused but with some reservations. “For me to go into a building and be housed, no open windows, no fresh air, that’s too much for me to handle.”
“The concrete doesn’t cool down at night.”
Charles was grateful for the less-thanblazing temperatures we had until late June. “This summer hasn’t been so bad. I can stay out on the street. There’s a nice breeze at night. We have sleeping bags. Only thing is the concrete doesn’t cool down.”
As June melted into July, the heat intensified. Charles sometimes avails himself of City of Dallas Cooling Stations, including the downtown Dallas Library. Hours are limited, however, with closing times as early as 4:00 on some days. “It doesn’t really cool down until 8:00.” He finds relief in the shade under the slanted walls of Dallas City Hall. “A lot of time security won’t bother you. They just tell you not to lean on the building.”
The one-degree difference
Winter presents challenges of its own. Last January, when Dallas temperatures plummeted to below freezing and stayed there, the city opened emergency shelters offering sleeping accommodations and a chance to warm up.
Charles points out the difficulty of planning for the nights that hover around the freezing mark. “There should be a way for people to know what to expect. Okay, it’s cold, but it has to be 32 degrees or below before the temporary shelters open. It could be 33 degrees, but we can’t go to a shelter because it’s 33, not 32.”
Still, he takes a philosophical approach to the elements. “If it’s hot or if it’s cold, it’s just Texas.”
An indoor sanctuary at the art studio
Despite his preference for open air, Charles spends most of his daytime hours inside the walls of The Stewpot’s art studio. His tenure there is one of the longest.
It started one day in 2006 when he noticed a Stewpot staff member crocheting. Thinking that he’d like to make a gift for his mother’s birthday, he asked where he might find crochet yarn and was shown to the art room.
There, Charles discovered a place to develop himself as an artist. “I didn’t start painting until I got here,” he says, although he’d been captivated by art since early childhood. “I have an aunt who’s an artist. When I was three years old, I saw her drawing and said, ‘I want to do that.’ She gave me a tablet, pastels and charcoals, and I just started mimicking what she did.”
Little did his aunt know that Charles would develop into a notable painter. His art has been displayed at Dallas City Hall and recognized with competitive awards.
Creating art to be closer to the Creator
To Charles, God is the consummate artist.
He finds the beauty of His creation in the sound of the wind, the pattern of hail on the ground, even in the fury of storms.
It’s a unique perspective, one that may hinge in part on living close to the elements. “I tell people, we’re like trees, and we have our seasons. We have to shake everything off, and then we grow again, and we produce new vines.”
The new vines Charles produces are his colorful canvases. They’re the creative legacy he leaves the world. “I haven’t had children or anything,” he says, “but I can paint and draw.”
Poppy Sundeen, a Dallas writer, is a member of the STREETZine editorial board.
By Vicki Gies
Texas has a wide variety of weather, from a mere spring rain shower to Category 5 hurricanes and F0-F4 tornados. Also, let’s not forget the extreme winter weather! I personally experienced winter weather where the daily temperature was as low as eight degrees Fahrenheit. That was during a Cotton Bowl Parade on New Year’s Day! The high that day was twelve degrees Fahrenheit! Frigid!
My favorite seasons are spring and fall. Since my husband and I have been homeless, summers and winters have been brutal. If it wasn’t for our fans for the summer and our tarps, tent, and water sprayers, we would have been toast a long time ago. Same goes for what we are experiencing this summer.
In the winter, we have portable heaters, winter sleeping bags, and a bunch of blankets. With God’s help, we have made it through the coldest of winters and the hottest of summers. And with God’s help, we will make it through this summer as well.
But aside from thinking only about our wellbeing, we also worry about our domestic pets and other animals living around us. So far this summer, we’ve rescued two baby possums, one baby armadillo, and a large leatherback turtle. The turtle was headed toward the creek, but we noticed that it was moving very slowly in the blistering sun. We helped it along by picking it up and moving it to the water. We watched it for a bit, and then the
turtle turned around and looked at us as if to say, “Thank you for your help!”
We also get updates about the bald eagles living around the lake. Everyone around White Rock Lake was so sad because there were two eaglets that were affected by a vicious storm at the beginning of the summer. High winds blew the nest out of the tree, and one of the eaglets was thrown out of the nest, never to be found. The other eaglet somehow wound up next to the nest and was amazingly unharmed!
We like to take care of the nature surrounding us, and in turn, nature helps us. As for our critters, we have plenty of water for them, and they get food in the morning and evening. They give us unconditional love and companionship.
I wish that more people would learn from nature as we have. We have learned to live peacefully alongside wild animals. We have learned how to survive and not be greedy or selfish. We have learned not to strive to be king of the mountain. What a wonderful world this would be if everyone learned these things.
I dedicate this story to love, peace, and harmony. And if you read the title to this story, it may remind you of Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz when she says “There’s no place like home,” no matter where home is!
Vicki Gies if a STREETZine vendor and frequent contributor.
Continued from page 2
You will stand tall, really tall, stand proud.
You will walk, walk everywhere, anywhere, even without a shield
Borrow my vision and you will see me. All of me.
Not just my skin and the fear you choose to see of it.
We are all injured in the ever-churning grind of belonging and othering regulated by the insidious systems that make up our common life. In the kin-dom God is creating, all will belong. The weakest and the strongest among us will look to one another with honor, with reverence. We will neither harm nor destroy.
Until then, may our hearts turn toward one another. May we practice regarding one another with mutual grace. May we be one another’s protectors. Maybe then, all of us will be able to walk, walk everywhere, anywhere…even without a shield.
Amen.
Reverend Dr. Charlene Jin Lee is associate pastor for practice and formation at the First Presbyterian Church of Dallas.
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 explore how they deal with the elements.
By Savita Vega
Having spent the entire 14 months that I was homeless living in my car, I wasn’t really aware of what it meant to be “unhoused,” as in wholly exposed to the elements, until one winter night when a cold front blew through. The temperature was predicted to drop really fast with strong straight-line winds and heavy thunderstorms just after midnight.
When it was raining and cold — particularly when ice was predicted — I liked to park my car inside a parking garage. Not having the car drenched or iced over really made a difference in the interior temperature and thus in my and my dog’s ability to stay moderately warm. But days before this front blew through, I had been kicked out of two different parking garages by security guards unwilling to bend the rules. When such things occurred, I would uplift myself by reciting a verse that I remembered from the Bible: “And if anyone will not receive you… shake the dust off your feet as you leave.” (Matthew 10:14, ESV)
I was hesitant to try another parking garage on this night. Primarily, I didn’t want to risk being tossed out in the night just as the storm was starting. So, that afternoon I kept my eyes open, and then there it was! A vacant store with an awning out front. There was a police officer parked in the lot, so I stopped and asked “hypothetically” whether the police would ask me to leave if I were to park under the awning overnight. He reminded me politely that it was private property but added that the police didn’t care.
That night around dark I returned and, to my surprise, found the awning already occupied by two men who were seated, leaning against the wall. As I drove up under the awning, it was already raining hard with thunder cracking and lightning flashing, so driving back out into the deluge to find another covered place wasn’t an option. I felt bad that my vehicle was taking up most of the space under the awning until I realized that it was actually sheltering the two men from blowing rain on that side.
Because we would all three be spending the night under the awning together — despite my being inside with my dog — I really didn’t feel comfortable rolling down the window to strike up a conversation. I didn’t want to seem friendly. But I did notice that they didn’t have blankets or even cardboard to lie on or any other supplies with them.
I was exhausted from the rush to find shelter before the worst of the storm, and with that thought in my mind — they have no blankets — I lay my seat back, wiggled my way into my sleeping bag with my 60-pound pit bull, Harley, and immediately dozed off.
Sometime just before midnight the straight-line wind arrived, and I awoke with a start. My first thought was those two men, and what I saw when I looked out the window was surreal. Both then and every other time I awakened that night, their bodies were contorted into positions that were obviously uncomfortable but which afforded the least contact with wet cement below. At one point, I started to think that my prescription had stopped working and that the stress had initiated a psychotic break. Was I hallucinating? One of these men, drenched in rain and visibly shivering from head to toe, was attempting to avoid the frozen pavement by assuming what in yoga is called “rabbit’s pose”: face down, only knees and top of head touching down, arms flung back, and hands wrapped around ankles to hold the feet up in the air. Under his head was an empty Styrofoam takeout plate that the wind had blown in.
Overnight the temperatures plummeted such that my breath left my
body in thick, visible plumes, even inside the car. I was so afraid that one or both men might freeze to death before morning that I became like a mother with a sick child — waking automatically to check every hour or so. And yet I couldn’t possibly invite them into the car with me. They were strangers, and they were men. It was an excruciating dilemma that made me feel utterly helpless.
As first light came, I did the one thing I could. I got out my thermos and made my morning coffee with packets of instant Bustelo, sugar, and canned cream, except this time I made three cups — mine and two in plastic cups I had saved at some point. They thanked me and I left.
Savita Vega is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.
By Michael McCall
When you talk to an outdoors person or survivalist, they will emphasize the three major things a person needs to survive. That would be food, water, and shelter. Out of these three, I would like to focus on the importance of shelter. A shelter protects us from the elements which can be life-threatening if they are bad enough.
For those of us fortunate enough to have a place to stay and a job inside, we do not feel the effects of the weather as much as a person who lives outside. Most of us complain about how hot the walk is from one building to another or from the car to our homes. But take a second and imagine what it would be like to have no safe refuge.
I start sweating just looking out the window, much less living outside all the time.
By James Varas
The wind blows and I remember we have a God that is all knowing, all powerful, and present everywhere we go. The wind blows and we may not see it, but we can feel it on our bodies. We may not see God, but we know He is there, like our shadow watching us.
I watch a tree reaching for Heaven and God blowing His breath upon the earth as a heavenly wind. The branches sway and keep reaching for Heaven and the maker of Heaven and Earth.
The air is there, and we breathe each breath of life into our lungs. These beautiful trees were made by God and produce oxygen that we inhale each day.
The clouds pour in, and the winds begin to change. The sky grows dark, and the rain begins to splash across the earth. The thirsty trees reaching for Heaven are watered.
The earth is soaked, and the ground swallows the water that reaches to the roots of the trees. The earth takes a drink of God’s living water and sends vegetation and life to us each day.
The sun shines and says we’re not done yet. It’s my time to shine and it shines in its brilliance as reminded someday we
If you are a Texas native, you know it gets hot here during the summer. But it seems like every year we break records. As unbearable as this is, I can only reminisce how miserable I used to be just a few years ago.
I remember spending the entire day sweating and how hard it was to sleep at night in the heat. I have suffered from heat stroke before, so now I am more susceptible to them. This puts me at significant risk when I am in the elements, and I was reminded of this on my second day out of jail.
Having no place to go, I was forced to walk the streets and ended up in the hospital by the end of the day. Thankfully, I was admitted fast enough that all I needed was fluids, but it was quite a reality check on how important finding shelter was going to be for me. This is what an unhoused person goes through every day in the summer. You try to stay inside
will see God shining in Heaven. It brings light and comfort to the soaked ground and trees. Like a campfire by the lake, we are comforted by the soothing heat.
And then it starts again, the wind blows and trees sway. We breathe the air, and the sky brings forth clouds. The clouds rain, the earth and trees drink the living water. The sun shines as we drink the water.
James Varas is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.
public places during the day and sleep so you can move around at night when the temperature is cooler.
Even before I was homeless, I worked in construction battling the elements to earn a paycheck. I feel like you spend half your day drinking water just to stay alive. Even though I suffered during the day, I was able to recover at night in the comfort of air-conditioning.
As simple as that sounds, it makes all the difference in the world. Without the option to recover, your body is in a constant state of distress. This is why we should do our best to look out for those who are unhoused and offer them water when we can, a place to sit to enjoy some A/C, or even provide an umbrella to allow someone to escape the sun. Anything helps when you are left to the elements.
Michael McCall is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.
How a Homeless Man Copes with the Summer Heat
Editor’s Note: This is a fictional tale based on the writer’s experience.
By Q. Zheng
Martín, a homeless man with a bad back, sits in his wheelchair on the corner of Commerce and Ervay Streets. He likes watching the morning rush-hour traffic, where the action of the day begins. The summer sun is already beaming its hot rays at every inch of the exposed surface. Combined with the humidity, it feels like a warm iron on his body.
He thought about Van Gogh’s sunflowers. The brownish yellow petals struggle to stay perky. As still objects in the flower vase, they’ve lost their sense of direction of the sun. Martín likes to imagine the flowers outside their original setting. He lifts his head toward the sun, eyes closed, feeling the heat from the sun on his face, like field sunflowers, facing the source of energy.
His motionless, sun-sculpted face tells stories of the toil and joy of many summers in his younger years. His nasolabial lines lead to deep valleys where once upon a time were the sweet dimples of his youth, the intoxicating nectars to his fair ladies. Now there is sweat collecting in the valleys, so are there the happy tears he sheds, when he reminisces with what ardor and fire he had once danced the tango in the backstreet bars of Buenos Aires, where the less reputable men and women had taught him how to move his body.
By Jason Turner
I feel rather thrilled, and my attitude is chilled.
Little by little I’m wholly destroying bills.
I change what’s in my range. Increasingly using my brain. Some consider me lame, but I feel gathered and further sane.
Self-conviction is sufficient So, others’ opinions are rather suspicious.
To differentiate is somewhat fun, Cognitive exercise is now a must.
If you don’t use it, then you’ll lose it. I understand extra and won’t abuse it.
His feet planted on the hot concrete, his toes digging into the hard texture, his soles feeling the sunburnt surface — Martín can no longer move his torso. But his eyes are still ferocious. He sings some of Astor Piazzolla’s tango pieces, feeling the blood rushing to his face to the beat of the music. He wiggles his lower legs and feet in expression of the dance moves. Martín loves music and tango dancing. Back in the day, he used to play the guitar by ear and frequented tango studios where he was a much-sought-after dance partner. Now with only the summer heat for company, his music and tango keep him cool mentally.
By 10:00 am, Martín wheels to the parking lot at the corner of Cadiz and Ervay Streets, where volunteers pass around lunch trays and bottled water for the homeless. A man cannot live on passion alone. Martín knows. But how much easier it is to cope with the summer heat with a passion in his heart. He can sing his heart out. Those Argentine ballads of yesteryear were his brain food and his answer to the three-digit heat index.
After lunch, he rolls to the downtown Dallas Public Library to drink more water and wipe the sweat off his brow. Staying in the cool library on the fourth floor of the fine arts division, Martín gazes at the music practice rooms and the music lesson area. A guitar group lesson is in progress. He wheels closer and is instantly absorbed into the music they are playing: “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen. He used to like that tune. Today, it sounds extra moving to him as he is now wheel-
Have you ever felt like time was pressing, As if everything was not impressing, Each thing was stretched to stressing.
Jumping in and thrusting outward, Dealing with and pushing through unlike a coward,
I’m getting better by the hour.
Crossing off goals and accomplishing my list in due time.
It’s therapeutic when I rhyme. I wish I could scratch off dreams on every line.
Have no more time to hear them whine.
I may seem like an easy target. But you’ll never get what you wanted. There’s more to me than on the surface
chair-bound. The students are playing a simplified version, while the teacher freely embellishes with ornamental notes to make it even more beautiful.
In spite of himself, he sings along with the guitars, adding intensity to the ensemble. When the music comes to a stop, everyone turns their heads around to look at Martín and claps their hands for the unbridled emotions he has brought to the song. What a compliment! Martín flashes his most dazzling smile at everyone in the class. His music mood still high, Martín rolls back downstairs and out to the library plaza area. He takes out a little radio he won at a bingo game at a homeless shelter — The Bridge — and turns it to a Mexican music station. A Mexican mariachi band is playing a love song.
The sun is slowly moving westward. There are still a few hours before sunset. Meanwhile, his wheelchair glides on the ground, crisscrossing to the rhythm of the music as if in a serenading dance with a partner. He hits the high notes with the trumpets of the band and air plucks the low notes with the guitarrón that’s marking the beats.
As the day winds down and the sun has set, Martín takes out his water bottle to summarize the day with a toast to Athena, the Greek goddess of art. He lies down on the concrete bench near the library, arm reaching out for the stars in the sky. He has conquered yet another hot day.
Q. Zheng is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.
front end.
I’ll sacrifice myself and bunt it. Although easily I can homerun it.
There’s more to life to me now, so that’s my expression.
Sharing it with you is working out my progression.
Surpassing all expectations. I clean up better than those who left it.
Jason Turner is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.
Lub-dub: Heat as Adversary
By Eric Oliver
Lub-dub.
The pulse, the shunting of blood, is the most basic force within the body.
Lub-dub.
Normally those still moments when I fall into awareness of my pulse are plush and welcoming.
Lub-dub.
But this instance was anything but comforting.
Lub-dub, Lub-dub.
Reality was hazy, technicolored. This was no zen moment on my sofa; I was jogging, perhaps stumbling, along the Hudson River.
Mmm-bup. Mmmmm-up.
But a chill and an exhaustion spoke to me also. The now-pervasive sound should have held pace, but my lifeblood was losing its speed, its propulsive energy. I felt I was in a tub of jello, grasping to swim my way free. A tub of jello?
Lub- - - duh
To be clear, I’m decidedly down for anything, but it seemed a bit early in the day for shenanigans of that particular variety.
When I next touched reality, I was in the fluorescent environs of Mt. Sinai hospital. I had stumbled onto the precipice of heat stroke during my daily exercise, as
New York City sweltered through a heat dome. In my body’s distress, I’d jettisoned my phone and such. Luckily, I already existed in their medical record system, so they were able to reach my husband to retrieve me after I’d been suitably cooled and irrigated.
I felt foolish, chastened. In a way I could scarcely imagine though, I was very lucky. I had easy access to a ride-share app and insurance that led Mt. Sinai to encourage me to spend the night rather than expeditiously punting me to the exit.
Once home, I had: a home(!), a pillow with a cold side, an AC unit so loud the M and J trains never stood a chance. A place of respite; a place to convalesce. Even two years later, I’m jolted alert anytime that once-comforting lub-dub tickles my ears.
No longer just a fleeting awareness of life’s energy coursing through me, it now carries a whiff of danger, a blinking red light calling me to find shelter, to hydrate, to mind the fragility of equilibrium. The notion of navigating the symptoms again without any of the trappings of a welltended life — of a safety net — is the stuff of dismay.
Heat exhaustion and stroke are deadly
By Cubby Luv
Dealing with the elements while living on the streets can be make a person feel disrespected. Scorching hot, sweating so bad that the salt ruins the fabric of my shirt, feeling sticky and smelling musty, and in a matter of minutes it could just pour down raining out of nowhere. Security forces us to move off properties causing us and everything we possess to get soaking wet.
Living in a tent can be stressful. Having to check the weather every day so we know what places to set up camp and protect ourselves has to be strategic. It is mandatory to adapt if we want to beat the weather beast. I guess the good thing about it is we learn and it creates a skill we will never forget and can use in any environment for the rest of our lives.
Cubby Luv is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop and a STREETZine vendor.
serious and fearsome to anyone, but they take on a whole new form when you’re homeless in the balmy Texas summer — otherwise known as Hell’s Half Acre. Here, the elements are an adversary, capable of pummeling, mentally and physically, and of corroding. Constantly they probe for an opportunity to demonstrate their prowess.
By conjuring the elements into an adversary, I can construct a game that makes victory tangible. I respect the heat’s ability to bend my perception and drain my strength, the range-limiting nature of rain, and the nomadic disloyalty of shade. I see this respect shared when the mercury enters an extreme period, and some fellow city-dwellers remember the basic humanity of their unhoused neighbors, offering cold water or a bit more patience.
And I pray that the great leveling quality of the weather might call forth a virtuous cycle where a visceral awareness of our shared humanity might last longer than the wavy haze rising from the asphalt. If the heat is my adversary, so surely must it be all of ours; this recognition of a shared adversary carries inside itself the grand extravagance of possibility.
Eric Oliver is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.
By CiCi Guerre
Protection from the sun is very important. The hot temperatures drain all of your energy away. It is natural to want to lie down and take a nap, but if you are not aware of the sun, you can end up with a serious case of sunburn.
So, you must seek shade. Natural shade — like from trees — works best, but such can be hard to come by downtown. As unhoused people, we are constantly being run off from any place we try to rest.
The shade from a building would be second best and likely falls on some nice clean concrete. But at that point you would want to supplement the shade. What kind of protection from the sun can you build? So, you have cardboard or a tarp or any kind of fabric to block the rays of the sun? Maybe you do and you are able to make a nice dark cave on the sidewalk.
No sooner do you stretch out than you realize that what you are using to block the sunlight is collecting the heat. Now you are slowly cooking. Do you have enough ventilation? Can you make it to sundown? Should you abandon your work spot for temporary comfort inside a shelter or library?
Cici Guerre is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.
By Darin Thomas
It’s very hot in prison during the summer. Most units don’t have an A/C unit. We have a fan that we have to fight over.
Luckily, I’m in the Holliday Unit in Huntsville. The K-Building in our unit has air conditioning, fans, and cool ice water. So, I don’t really have to worry about the summer heat for now. That is great for everyone in the K Building. I thank God for that blessing!
The only thing wrong is that we are on lockdown for 30 days because of two deaths. There were two stabbings that caused two people to die. We have A/C, but we are locked up 24 hours a day. At least we are not in the heat like others. I know it’s really HOT in the other buildings and blocks.
I hate being incarcerated, although it could be worse.
I hope to be out by next summer. Better days are coming soon. I don’t want to do no more heated days behind bars!! No more incarcerated days, period.
This is my life in prison, taking it one day at a time.
Darin Thomas is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.
Editor’s Note: We reached back two years for essays that remind us of the enduring challenge of living in Texas during the summer.
By Larry Jackson
Ecclesiastes 1:1-9 says there is nothing new under the sun. Living in this heat during the summer months is difficult. Heat is a powerful-draining element. Heat can change the landscape of a region, especially during a drought. The caveman was the first to take advantage of the heat that comes from fire. This discovery not only allowed the caveman to survive but kept his home warm and pleasant for him to prepare his food. The fire gave him light to move around. The discovery of heat was the way to go into the future.
During the present heat wave, the task is to survive the heat. Under my current health condition, I must be very careful. With my high blood pressure, I respect the importance of staying cool. I must
By Gershon Trunnell
limit my exposure because a power so strong as this heat can drain the life out of things — from plants to animals, from land to lakes, and from plants to trees.
Humans have gotten used to the heat and use it to their advantage. They live in high-temperature settings, using many different formulas. To this day, I use some old-fashioned methods. I work during the early hours of the morning or the late hours of the day. I find enjoyment in these practices. Minimizing my exposure to the danger of heat is at the top of my list, being aware of its draining power.
Controlled heat, of course, can replenish life, especially on a cold and freezing night. Humans have learned how to use heat as a cooking tool. I love to bake a pie.
The past few years the summer has been at record temperatures. Deaths have increased due to the heat and its impact on our health. Heat exhaustion is common among people in Dallas experiencing homelessness. I know of at least six people in July who suffered heat exhaustion.
I cope with the heat by staying hydrated. I also eat more fruits and veggies. And I cut down on smoking. (Hopefully, permanently quitting.)
Being alone most of the time, I don’t have the problem of dealing with other people’s attitudes or much stress. Staying calm helps keep you cool.
But when it is extremely hot, people get more edgy. Misery loves company. People also turn to alcohol without drinking enough water. That can lead to not only dangerous conditions but also it heightens emotions.
If I can’t be inside, I find shade or use an umbrella, keep a hydrating beverage with me, and practice self-control.
Texas is what I call a bipolar state, due to the constant change of weather conditions. I do my best to be prepared for the potential change of weather. You have to stay cool, calm, and collected.
Gershon Trunnell is a writer in The Stewpot’s Writers’ Workshop.
God knew the power of heat and its effect. To protect the children of Israel in the desert, the book of Exodus says, God used a cloud by day and a pillar by night. Under this same heat and my condition, I could face a major problem. A stroke, a seizure, a heart attack, or death. So, I must keep myself fully hydrated. I do this by adding the right electrolytes to keep my energy at peak level. I must respect the draining power of heat.
What is 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 one-dollar or more donation.
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
CHAPTER 31, SECTION 31-35 of the Dallas City Code PANHANDLING OFFENSES
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 pay phones; 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.
other ideas?