Ragman holds his photrograph

One of my passtimes is taking pictures of the people I am frinedly with and giving them a copy.
For many of them, it has been years since they last held a photograph of themselves.

Why I work here

May 06 Why do I work here? Why do I work here? Unlike some of you who have glamorous jobs and get to travel the globe, I drive the 15 miles from a lovely suburb into Los Angeles. I pass neighborhoods, schools, a hospital, freeways, industrial areas, warehouses and then cross the First Street Bridge. I turn left at the Fish restaurant into the warehouse district filled with cold storage units and toy shops and notice that the vehicle traffic has slowed down. Soon there are more people in the streets than cars and the sidewalks are landscaped with tents, boxes and morning dreamers. My little car gets parked next to broken glass and a tent full of people; some of whim are already hitting the pipe. As I open my door the stench of urine and burnt trash sticks in my nose and I have to pick my way across the pot holes in the street to an opening between parked cars (2 of them had the Orange Boot on them this morning) up to the tilting and broken sidewalk and finally into the door of the building where I work. This morning as I stepped in the door a cockroach was near my feet. Wearing open toed sandals, I was a little alarmed and noticed the bug was the same size as my big toe. I tossed the remaining drops of water from the cup i was drinking from at the bug . . and it charged me. I sweat it bowed it's tiny head and scampered purposefully in my direction, which made me jump and shriek a pip of fear as I started to scoot back/ About this time I realized I was running away from a bug... a BUG! I regained my composure and left the roach to it's approach and I walked across the building to my office. Sitting in a chair by my door was a man with a months old baby boy. As I took the baby and talked to him so the father could go to money management, it occurred to me: I only have to work in a broken down part of town with giant roaches and foul smells. If the problem is not solved - the problem of poverty, homelessness and a need for Skid Rows, this drooling bright eyes baby boy would continue to be one of thousands who will grow up here and accept this as normal. He will expect his world to smell like a toilet and he will expect to be invisible. No one deserves a life like that, and that is why I come to work every day. Monday though, I am bringing Boric Acid for the roach!

these are the faces of Skid Row

 

City Flags

I love the "You are Here" flags for designated areas of the city like "The Flower District", "Toy District", "Business District" . . . I feel a little discriminated against that none of the flags say "Skid Row" 

Los Angeles Mission Clinic and LAMP

Every other week the LA Mission Clinic comes into LAMP and does Diabetesm blood pressure and HIV Screenings.