April 22, 2009

In-Box

Tribune staff reporter

A haunting sight

ON A WARM, HUMID and rainy Sunday in late August of 2007, I was invited to go along on the Homeless Sandwich Run by a friend who was involved in this organization. I was not prepared for what I was about to experience. As one who served in a high-level position as an officer in the U.S. Army Reserve during the Vietnam War, I saw little of the trauma-producing battles that so affected my fellow comrades in arms. Yet it is estimated that some 35 to 40 percent of Chicago’s homeless are veterans. And there they were. On State Street, the homeless would sheepishly come out from alleys to grab a bag of sandwiches before retreating to their haunts. On lower Wacker, men and women came and asked for clothing, as well as food and drink. But what really startled me was, even on North Michigan Avenue–one of the wealthiest shopping districts in the world–homeless men and women would dart out from hiding places to grab a bag of sandwiches. I learned much about the homeless, my fellow veterans, and myself on that rainy Sunday afternoon.

Paul A. Dillon

Here was my original submission. You can see how they edit even letters to the editor:

I read with considerable interest your article entitled, “Relief Efforts” in the February 1, 2009 issue of the Chicago Tribune Magazine.

On a warm, humid and rainy Sunday in late August of 2007, I was invited to go along on the Homeless Sandwich Run (www.chicagosandwichrun.org) by a friend who was involved in this organization. Armed with my Vietnam Veteran baseball cap and a poncho to ward off the rain, I was placed in the “jump seat” next to the driver, so that I could hand the bags of sandwiches to the homeless, as the rickety truck trundled up and down the Loop’s busy streets.

I was not prepared for what I was about to experience.

As one who served in a high level position as an officer in the U.S. Army Reserve during the Vietnam War, I saw little of the trauma producing battles that so affected my fellow comrades in arms. Yet, it is estimated that some 35-40 % of Chicago’s homeless are veterans—many of them Vietnam Veterans, like me.

And, there they were. On State Street, the homeless would sheepishly come out from alleys to grab a bag of sandwiches, before retreating to their haunts. On lower Wacker, as the truck made its rounds, men and women came and asked for clothing, as well as food and drink. On Van Buren, just outside the library, more than 80 men lined up single file, military style, to get their sandwiches, coffee, or juice. But, what really startled me was, even on north Michigan Avenue—arguably one of the wealthiest shopping districts in the world—homeless men and women would dart out from hiding places to grab a bag of sandwiches, before retreating back into the crowd.

I learned much about the homeless, my fellow veterans, and myself on that rainy Sunday afternoon. I thought, “there, but for the grace of God, go I.”  It was a solemn drive home to my suburban home.

The Chicago Homeless Sandwich Run‘s motto is “We don’t judge ’em. We just feed ’em.” That they do–and, they do it well. It is a wonderful organization that deserves to be supported by all who care about our homeless—and, about our veterans.

Paul A. Dillon

P.S.

The web site for the Chicago Homeless Sandwich Run is: http://www.chicagosandwichrun.org