Beneath the Surface

It's a gray day today in Los Angeles. I don't know why it bothers me so much here. Like I expect every day to be sunny and warm here. Like the sun owes it to me to be always shining here. I come from somewhere that rain is common, where weather is seasonal. And yet here...any time the sun fails to warm the streets of this city, I get angry, like I'm entitled to be comfortable at all times simply because I'm in LA.

I think the sun makes people selfish here.  Maybe it's part of what contributes to the fictitiousness of the city, the surface-level, self-absorbedness of it all.

This city forgets itself.

What people know about LA--what people talk about is not the history, the truth of LA. The richness and texture of it.

I hate LA.

But I hate the traffic the industry the surfaceness. Los Angeles is known for one thing--Hollywood. The celebrities, the movie industry.

I saw yesterday photos commemorating the 21st anniversary of the Los Angeles Riots. I didn't even know they had ever happened. I had never heard of them. No one talks about them. I heard about the Watts riots in the 60s, vaguely, before I came, but never heard a thing about them since I've been here. The actual culture, the actual history, of Los Angeles is veiled by "LOS ANGELES," the Universal Studios, Beverly Hills, glamorous life that...doesn't encapsulate even a portion of what this city is.

I was reading Steve Martin's most recent book, An Object of Beauty, at one point he describes a view from a particular point in the city (emphasis mine), "The views that skimmed just over the top of the city gave sunsets an extra redness and positively affirmed that Los Angeles could be beautiful."

There's a poignant truth in there. There's hints of something lovely. Palm trees are nice to look at, it's right near the beach (but so is New Jersey...), there are some nature trails and hikes...but, as a whole LA is... freeways and brown grass. Stone buildings and gated windows. The things that I have found the most beauty in in LA is architecture; man made things.

The LA Riots resulted from class and race issues. Inequality and prejudice. Economic disparity.

Some of these things are better...race relationships have improved, in general. Gang violence is less than it was.

But class...class and economic disparity. That hasn't changed. Polls and surveys tell the story as much as anything else; people in LA feel that the economic inequality has only grown. And while there is not that same anger as a result of racial persecution and abuse of police power, people are still being crushed and oppressed by this city. By a lack of awareness, a lack of depth. There is a glut of consumerism and self-absorption.

But drive down South Central Ave and in seconds you see the truth... There is poverty and homelessness. S Central is nothing like Downtown, nothing like Beverly Hills.

Walk from the heart of downtown just a short ways and you hit Skid Row. The homeless capital of the United States.

But there are some beautiful things about Los Angeles...

There is Homeboy and Boyle Heights. There is Chinatown and Koreatown. The shops on S Central owned by families. Small shops. Local vendors. Latino cultural celebrations.

This city forgets itself. It could be beautiful, if only the sun didn't shine so much.


For more info about the LA Riots (I read a lot about them today)
The Wikipedia Page (centralizes a lot of news articles...fascinating.)
RIOT IN LOS ANGLES: Pocket of Tension; A Target of Rioters, Koreatown Is Bitter, Armed and Determined
George Bush's Televised Address about the Riots
Want to Understand the 1992 LA Riots? Start with the 1984 LA Olympics
Korea Town changes as a result of "Saigu"

The city during the riots in '92 Click for gallery.

Living in LA

It's never dark in LA. It reminds me of a conversation I had with my physics friend Matt. He talked about light pollution one night when we were driving around town and it was very humid and almost-fogging. The flood lights from a nearby park extended for miles--we could not place where this light was coming from, after all, it was never that bright. But the air was moist and the fog was beginning, and the light traveled.

The skyline towers within view most places I go. Their heights stretch upward, taking over the horizon. The light from these buildings stretch outward, flooding the night sky with their neon luminescence. The night is full of condensation from the warm afternoons. It doesn't rain here often but the difference in temperature brings with it foggy air. I'm sure the smog spreads the light as well. Last Friday as I drove in the humid air, because it actually rained for once, I drove down this street that has a clear view of the city skyline. There were spotlights dancing in the air and it looked like the sky was on fire. Clouds? Moisture? Fog? Smog? Maybe a mix of it all.

The smog. You need a car in LA to get around. Public transportation is unreliable, slow, and inconvenient. How can a city full of so many drivers be full of so many people who cannot drive?

Living in LA is bizarre. How can a city with the most millionaires also be the place of the most people who are homeless in this country? Contradictions. LA is contradictions. I drive down South Central Ave in Watts to get to work and drive past homelessness, intense poverty. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard, where the names of the famous and wealthy are at your feet, you are surrounded by people without a place to go home to.  Life here makes little sense. And on many occasions I find myself wondering if this is really my life right now, how I got here, and what this experience will teach me, what I will walk away from remembering. I don't think it will be seeing the Hollywood sign for the first time, or the time that I drove past Burbank. It will be the mornings I drive past the man off of the 105, asking for recyclables. The man in the wheelchair across the street panhandling. It will be the boys--the boy who told me that he was going to write about the period that he was homeless for his personal statement, the boy who bought a man outside the Chinese Food place dinner, the boy who never thought homelessness was anything but lack of motivation who chose to sleep outside in solidarity with them in order to learn more about the world. I'll remember the first time I saw Skid Row.

I'm sure the Los Angeles people will ask me about when I go home for Christmas is not the Los Angeles I have lived in. And I do not regret this fact. I would rather see this LA--the real LA before I put on my blinders and admire the famous handprints, the insanity of Venice Beach. This is the LA I was brought here to see, and to share with others.

Urban Plunge

What a fun time this last weekend was. From Friday October 19 to Sunday October 21st I spent my time with nine students on a service weekend we call the "Urban Plunge." It's a service immersion experience downtown, and in the local LA area where we work for and serve the some of the people in LA experiencing homelessness.

I was really looking forward to this opportunity because Krista, my supervisor, explained that the Urban Plunge seemed to be the moment where the previous JVs began to feel comfortable in the position. And last year's JV, who I contacted about my difficulties said the same thing. So I was really looking forward to this from the beginning of my time at Verb.

We stayed the weekend at Dolores Mission, a fantastic church in Boyle Heights that has a long history of serving a neighborhood entrenched in violence and poverty. DM is an awesome Jesuit parish with some really awesome priests and a dedication to making their community a safe space. The masses are some of the best I've ever been to and I immediately felt like I was part of a community in coming there. The sermons are socially relevent, talk about justice issues and the people are incredibly involved in the mass, taking part in sharing prayer intentions, celebrating birthdays, anniversaries, and first time visiters. It's just awesome. The only other time I've enjoyed mass so much was at Cabrini and for similar reasons--the sense of community.

Now, normally on the Urban Plunge, Verb hosts a dinner service at one of DM's social services, the Guadalupe Homeless Project. The deal there is that the people choose the menu, bring the food, prepare everything and then eat and interact with the people they serve. Unfortunately, the place double booked us and we had to find something else!

This happened two months ago, though, and that was fine. We booked another mission (there are a large amount in LA, unfortunately, because there is such a need) and we were set. Well about a week before the trip I contacted the volunteer coordinator there asking for some more specifics and they told me they had us booked for lunch!

Well this is a problem, I thought.

I've spent the last week frantically trying to replace it somewhere but with such short notice it was nearly impossible. This had made me significantly less excited. I felt like, one, that I had failed, and two, that the trip would now be less than it would have been. I worried that maybe it'd get cut short or somehow not be a good time. And so my previous excitement was replaced with dread and on top of all my other stressers it was pretty much exactly what I didn't need. This was supposed to be the thing that would turn the experience around...my first real chance to get to know some of the guys...and now it was going to be ruined.

Fortunately, though, it all worked out. Friday right after school the boys came into the Campus Min office and we hung out for a little before packing up the vans and driving to DM. Once there the guys played football with a couple of the kids who were hanging out in the school "playground" (which is pretty much just a parking lot with a couple basketball nets and some court lines on the blacktop...pretty typical for a Catholic school in the city.) I played some two-on-two basketball a littel bit with three of the guys and was able to adequately make a fool of myself.

We never found any service site to replace Friday's work, but we did hear about this local church carnival, and so we (myself and Krista, the other chaperone) took the boys and we got some food on Verb's dollar. I had papusas, a Salvadorian dish my casamates constantly rave about. They were pretty good. I think they're filled with beans but I actually enjoyed it, which is abnormal. So that's good. Then I played this Spanish version of Bingo called Lotteria, which is essentially the exact same game but played with pictures instead of numbers.  I did not win. Obviously the little boy and the old lady who did were dirty cheaters.


Lotteria

The carnival was actually a pretty lame affair other than that. Pretty dead and not much to do. But, it was on Sunset Blvd and we had about a half hour left on our parking meter. I was not aware of this but we were parallel to Hollywood Blvd. Well, most of the boys had never seen it and wanted to check it out. And so, suddenly we were walking down Hollywood and through the walk of fame!

Batman and Mr. Freeze

It was quite a fun experience and we visited the lobbies of Hollywood's Museum of Guinness World Records and Ripley's Believe it Or Not "museum" and the Hollywood Wax Museum.

It was the first moment I've really felt like I'm in LA--I know the reason I'm here isn't to do the touristy stuff but I am here and only for a year so I've wanted to see some sights...so it was really good to get out of my neighborhood and somewhere other than the freeway and the distance between casa DK and Verb.

The rest of the night was spent playing Monopoly, eating pizza, and being entertained by the boys insulting each other and beating each other up because that's what high school guys do. Naturally they also had to draw penises on each other when they fell asleep.

In the morning we were off to St. Francis Center, where my casamate Rachel works as volunteer coordinator. It's a social service center that provides meals and a pantry to the homeless population in the area. I've visited there a couple times now and seeing the line of people waiting outside hasn't gotten easier. A couple of the boys helped out with finishing up serving breakfast while the rest prepped for the pantry program.

The pantry program is a mini grocery store setup where the people come through and can pick out different kinds of food from rice and beans to fruit and veggies and bread. It's a very nice system. Lots of people get fed...some are families, and a few of them I recognized from the last time I was there.

After we left St. Francis Center we had time to kill  before our lunch at Homegirl so we stopped at a nearby park and played soccer. I have no athletic skill, but no one really held it against me. I happened to be on a better team, though, so I get to pretend I won. That was a lot of fun.

Then we ate lunch at Homegirl Cafe, part of Homeboy Industries. Homeboy provides rehabilitation services and acts as a second chance for former gang members and incarcerated men and women. Many of these people have spent most of their lives incarcerated, missing out on raising children, being parts of families, leading a normal life. And Homeboy allows them a place to get work experience, offers free tattoo removal and classes and generally is a huge aid in establishing its homies as members of societies. My casamate, Kathryn, works at  Homeboy as an assitant case manager and it sounds like simply a phenomenal place. It was founded by Fr. Greg Boyle, who wrote the book Tattoos on the Heart, and he is the heart and soul of the organization, and in general an awesome dude to chat with over a couple sausages and a beer.

The food was delicious, which is no surprise, because every once in a while we get free bread from Kathryn. We had a good time hanging out and then were off to Skid Row to volunteer at Midnight Mission.

Skid Row is a bummer. It's part of downtown LA, and hosts the highest concentration of homelessness in the country. The streets are lined with cardboard shanties, tents, sleeping bags, and people. Lots of people with nowhere else to go. A few of my housemates work in this area and so I hear a lot about Skid Row and homelessness in general over dinner. And while you can't go anywhere in LA without seeing people living on the streets, Skid Row was a whole new level of understanding of just what this country has failed to do for its people. A person here or there on the streets, people coming in for a meal, that you can handle. That you can process.

But Skid Row is beyond comprehension--how does this exist in the United States? In the world? It is enraging and disheartening. And at the same time it was reinvigorating in a strange way--it recommitted me to working for justice somehow, in any way I can. Simply telling you how terrible and unreal Skid Row is is one way to do that, I guess, but it doesn't do its justice.

The pit that opened in the bottom of my stomach is beyond words. No photograph can capture the experience, no words can convey just what it's like--this place should not exist.

I've worked at a few kitchens and homeless social service organizations but it was never like the experience I had at The Midnight Mission. The sheer numbers, for one, were overwhelming. Two, there were so many young people--my age, not much older, early 30s. Many of them didn't look like your typical image of homelessness. Heart-rending.

When I got there I was assigned probably the lamest job I could think of--bussing. My exact thoughts were, "This sucks," because I was in the back by myself, not serving anything or helping the process of getting meals...probably the worst possible thing to do when you're volunteering, right?

Strangely, it was one of the most rewarding experiences I've ever had in a direct service capacity. I was admiring the work this mission does, the services it provides, the social atmosphere and familiarity amongst its patrons and even some of the volunteers. It's sad that these people are so established among their situation that they have formed these relationships, but it is also strangely encouraging. The warmth and presence of other people can keep you going, I suppose. I had a great chance to observe and simply "be," which is often times the best way to take in an experience.

I was also the last person most people saw before they left and went back to their lives. And so I got a lot of thanks for the work everyone was doing. That was powerful in its own way, because it's a tangible sign of making an impact, even if it's only small, even if it's only for the next few hours. I had a few people ask me for the leftovers (of which there was a surprising amount) before I tossed them.  And that was sad as well. How often does this man eat, I wondered.

But there was one moment, one man, in particular, that made the evening particularly special. It was after the crowd had disappeared, mostly, the line diminished, the work was slowed down, the dinner was through, he stopped and talked to me and the other guy bussing. He told us what great work we were doing, that the angels in heaven would recognize it, that it was brave and worthy and good karma. My initial reaction was to assume this man had a little something loose, because it wasn't that big a deal. He shouldn't be thanking me for anything. But he continued on, saying that we had to really humble ourselves and let go of our pride to help our fellow man in this way, and that it was admirable.

This stuck with me; it continues to stick with me. I think the impulse is to think the other way, that the people being served really have to humble themselves to accept this kind of service, and the temptation may be to think they resent our help. But this man, and so many other folks that evening were genuinely grateful.I don't know who the man was, will probably never see him again, and yet I can really say it was one of the few moments in my life that I would call a "God moment."

 I left Midnight Mission feeling reinvigorated, sure again of some kind of purpose. The weekend made me appreciate an aspect of this job I hadn't considered, and that was the fact that once a month I chaperone Saturday service trips, which means that once a month I volunteer to help others at different organizations. How cool is that?

That night we had reflection, and I was very impressed by what the students shared; they expressed a new point of view on all of this I had never experienced. A younger perspective, and in some ways, more naive, but the seed was there for an understanding of these profound issues, and certainly there was a clear commitment to continue that exploration.

They all also come from a minority perspective. All of the students were latino, (except one, who was black) and so they caught things that I, as a white person, would never have noticed, that I've never thought about, simply because my frame of reference is different. My social class is probably different, my entire view on the world is not the same as theirs. For example, they really noticed that almost all the people they saw  throughout the day were either latino or black. As low income minorities themselves, they were very attune to that fact while for me...well, that's just the way it was and it didn't even register to me. It really increased my awareness of the the economic inequality based on race, in that I never really understood how profound a burden that weighs on every young man at Verb. It's not just that they're low income, it's that they're low income minorities, and that is a whole new dimension of difficulty.

I was really impressed by what the boys shared during our reflection, and how much they got the point of it all. I think I underestimated them a little bit in their ability to grasp the implications of what they were doing and seeing. But they were very sensitive to the reality of what they were seeing, and though they may not be aware of the more complex issues surrounding it, they are dedicated to continuing the work. For some of them, perhaps it hit close to home in a way it never has and probably never will for me.

After reflection, we shifted gears, grabbed some frozen yogurt (which is a big thing in California) and played lots of fun retreat games, including mafia and ninja. It was great being in a familiar retreat/service trip setting, and it really helped me to feel comfortable again and to relax and open up.

All in all, I had a blast spending the weekend with the students, and had one of the most meaningful volunteer experiences in my life. With all said and done, it brought me new life, renewed purpose, and some confidence to carry me forward for the rest of the year.

I tried to bring a little Cabrini with me to the experience, including this prayer  we shared during our Search meetings and on Project Appalachia last year which has always resonated profoundly with me and I thought fit the weekend's mission.

Look around you people of God

Look around you

Who is the person sitting next to you?

The person next to you is the greatest miracle and the greatest mystery you will ever meet, at this moment a testament of the Word made flesh, of God’s continuing Advent into the world, into our midst.

The person next to you is a unique universe of experience, alive with necessity and possibility, dread and desire, comedy and tragedy, fear and hope.

The person next to you longs to become something in particular, to arrive at some destination, to tell or sing a story, to be known and to know.

The person next to you believes in something, stands for something, counts for something, labors for something, runs for something, waits for something.

The person next to you is a whole colony of persons met during his lifetime, a community in which still loves a mother and father, a friend, an enemy.

The person next to you can do some things well, some better than most; there is something her one life on earth means and cares for; does she speak of this to you?

The person next to you can live with you, not just alongside; he can live for you as well as for himself; he can confront, encounter and esteem you—if you want him to; in turn, his point of view can be appreciated by others.

The person next to you cannot be fully understood; she is more than any description or explanation; she can never be fully controlled.

The person next to you is a mystery—as the word made flesh is a mystery.

And the word was made flesh and dwelt among us.

So people of God

Look around you

For God is here.