Larry
March in New Mexico can be deceptive in its false Spring optimism. A year after the COVID-19 pandemic forced a near full-shut down of the state, promise began to shine again on the horizon. The vaccine rollout began moving swiftly and efficiently; numbers of COVID cases gradually fell on average each week as the outdoor temperatures began to rise, and the sunlight extended longer than it had in months.
And then a winter storm ripped through Central New Mexico, knocking out power, icing over trees and freshly blooming flowers, and forcing the masses back indoors. For many men experiencing homelessness, they sought shelter in Heading Home’s overnight shelter – one of the few emergency shelters that has remained open throughout COVID. Inside the shelter, beds are spread out at a safe distance – some men are sleeping; some are doing laundry, and others are sitting on beds talking, fully masked, and are planning to stay indoors to wait out the unseasonable storm.
For Larry, waiting has become customary. COVID-19 has caused him to delay his plans to reach Florida and rebuild his life off the street. He has the plan. He has the vision. And when permitted and able, he will travel and move forward into the life he holds onto for his future. This is his story, in his own words.
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I’m from Minnesota; I was born and raised there. I left there in ’70 to join the Army. I was a mechanic and truck driver in Vietnam. It was later on in the conflict – ’71 and ’72. A lot of the units were zeroing out and disbanding. I had eight months in-country and they gave me the option to go to another unit or go home, so I just went on home. The whole thing ended in ’75 anyway, so it was just about done. But, it was one of those things that I felt I had to do. I couldn’t understand, and I still don’t understand, those people who ran to Canada to avoid it.
When I came back, I lived in the Southwest – El Paso mainly. I had a job there when I got out of the service, so I just stayed. We moved to New Mexico in ’92 – I was married for 40 years. And it took me 40 years to realize I wasn’t happy, so I got a divorce about five years ago. The biggest thing I miss from the divorce was my big woodworking shop and my welding shop. We had two acres and I had two John Deere tractors. I was content as long as I was out of the house and in my garage working. I could spend 90 percent of my time working, and I was completely happy.
I’ve lived most of my life at a comfortable income-level. I retired from civil service at Fort Bliss, and all my health insurance and Medicare are paid for through my retirement for the rest of my life. I was very content, but I was just looking for a little bit more in life – a little bit more family.
A lot of things have happened to me since the divorce. I got tangled up in scammers and that kind of stuff, so basically, that’s why I’m here now. I found God in the meantime, and that’s made a big difference to me. The transition onto the street wasn’t too bad. For the first year or so, I had a car to live in. It belonged to a friend of mine who I did some work for. He had a bunch of cars and he let me use one. But in the long-term I lost that. I was making a little money – I was working as a handyman and doing odd jobs in Ruidoso, and making a living there. He wanted me to work for him for nothing, but for the use of the car. I told him, “How can I turn down paying jobs to work for you not making anything?” So, he took the car back and parked it with his others.
I’ve been very fortunate in my homelessness. I’ve had people in Ruidoso who have helped me. They’ve given me work. I had one woman I worked for for two months, and I could stay in her house. She fed me and still paid me wages. I’ve had two or three people like that, who I’ve worked for in the past who have really treated me well.
During COVID, it’s been hard on the street. Restaurants are hardly ever open; there’s not many shelters open other than this one. You can get meals at some places – you line up outside a fence and get a good, hot meal. But it’s been really kind of a shot in the stomach, you might say, because people out there are just surviving. Businesses aren’t open to the homeless anymore – if they’re open at all. I’m proud of the homeless people when it comes to COVID because they are in-tune with what’s happening, and you see it a lot on the street. With businesses closing and the lack of shelters, homeless people are stepping up and wearing the masks; they’re distancing and everything else.
I think COVID has probably affected more people in ways that they’re not talking about. Each person is dealing with it in their own way, but people out here have been helping each other out. A lot of the people I run into pretty much accept the fact that this is the way life is going to be for a while. I don’t see a quick fix to it. It’s a very sobering experience when you stop to think this is worldwide. Look at the number of people who have died worldwide. More Americans than in World War II. Maybe this is the beginning of the end? I don’t know? Who knows?
We were offered the vaccine [at Heading Home]. I took it – that Johnson & Johnson one-shot. A lot of us older people took it. I just turned 71 in January, so I’m in that group that’s very susceptible. Now, we’re trying to get these stimulus checks. I’m on social security; I was just reading on YouTube that I’m in the group that really hasn’t gotten any satisfaction yet. There’s some snafu why we haven’t gotten the checks yet. We’re still waiting.
I have a fiancé, Sarah. She’s in Ruidoso and I’m here. I’m trying to get her here. That’s one reason I wanted my stimulus. We’re trying to go to Florida – where she’s from. But, COVID has affected all that – the travel and so on. It’s affected so many different things that you don’t even realize until you sit down and really think about it.
We’re going to Lake Worth – it’s right next to West Palm Beach. She’s lived there all her life. Her dad lived in Florida, but he’s in Albuquerque now. Sarah had a sister who was prone to seizures and while they were in Ruidoso, she had a seizure and passed away. About a year ago, her mother had an accident in the house – slipped and hit her head – and died from that. She’s lost a sister and mother; her dad had a stroke. I’m basically who Sarah has left for family and she’s who I have. If I could get this stimulus now, we can get cross country. I’m hoping it’s before the end of COVID, because we don’t know when that’s gonna be. But, if we can get through this COVID period, life’s looking up.
The ideal day in Florida will just be to relax; to get up and have coffee if I want or to have breakfast. The things that normal people do and take for granted – sit back and watch TV or whatever. Just have a typical day. I don’t think I’ll have the wood shop again. I enjoyed it before, but I don’t know if I want to go through all that again – buy all that stuff. I had so much money invested in tools. Maybe I’ll just enjoy a family where we can share love back and forth.
I was in the position one time when I tried suicide. It didn’t work. I woke up the next morning and I was still alive, so I called 911 and got it taken care of. Ever since that point, I’ve been trying to figure out, “Why am I here?” You know, everybody’s got a purpose on this earth – God’s got a plan for you. I have no idea what my plan is or what He wants me to do. I’m hoping it’s to get together with Sarah and to go on with life. But, who knows? You never know until it hits you one day and you think, “Oh, this is why I’m here.” I hope this is not why I’m here – living like this. I’m a very firm believer in fate, and I believe that we all have our stories written before we’re born, and I’m living my story. I didn’t think I’d write this kind of stuff for myself, but here I am.
If you don’t have a plan or thoughts or ideas about the future, then you live day to day. A lot of people [in shelter] don’t have anything to look forward to like I’m trying to look forward to. This is their daily life. Homelessness hasn’t hit me very hard for some reason. I think because I have those plans; I have ideas. I have something to work for. If the future plans were to fall apart, I might, too. Everything has to look up. I’ve been about as low as I care to get, and now I’m ready to get back to the other end.
