George Is Homeless

and is having problems with the system and it makes you wonder where are all of the outreach workers that No Plan B Miller has put on the city payroll. Where are the social in-activists that get government grants to help the needy? Why aren't one of them helping George get back into his apartment? Maybe Joe's column will get George some help. It is obvious the system isn't doing it's job.

A fight, a bite and suddenly he's homeless
Oct. 13, 2006. 01:00 AM
JOE FIORITO

You don't know until you ask.

The other morning, George and I were talking in a drop-in centre on the edge of Regent Park. He looked tired. He seemed edgy. His neck hurt and he was sore of heart.

I asked.

George began to pull things out of his gym bag: packets of official papers, neatly folded; sheaves of notes and comments; the details of the life he leads of late. He said, "I haven't had a good night's sleep since Aug. 1."

I asked some more.

Until recently, George lived in a bachelor apartment on the top floor of a seniors' residence on Bathurst St. at Steeles Ave. W. On a recent morning, he thought he'd go downtown. He pressed the button for the elevator. The doors opened. He saw a woman with a walker.

He said he thought she wanted to get off, and wondered why else would a person come all the way to the top floor?

That's not for me to say.

The woman does not speak English. She is 86 years old. She did not move. George is 63. He said he thought she was confused. He said he reached for the walker. And what happened next was a defining moment, if you need a definition of downhill in a hurry:

There was a disagreement, a misunderstanding, a struggle; at the height of whatever it was that happened, the woman's fingers got into George's mouth.

He bit her and went on his way.

George spent the next few hours downtown at the Good Neighbour's Club, a drop-in. When he returned home later in the day he was arrested and charged with assault and attempted robbery. The woman was taken to a doctor for antibiotics. And George was taken to jail.

If you ask a question, you better listen to the answer.

Some people in the justice system felt there might be mental health issues involved. George argued there were none. And so he will be tried in regular court.

He could have gone back to his bachelor apartment, but the woman said she was afraid of him. And so George's bail includes the provision that he stay away from her.

His landlord, the Metro Toronto Community Housing Corp., was prepared to give him alternative accommodation. George declined that offer, reasoning that he already has a home, and his stuff is there, and he has got it set up just so, and it took a long time to get everything arranged the way he wants it.

That's true enough.

Just as it is also true that he gave himself no choice but a shelter. There are 10 men in his dorm. They snore. No wonder he can't sleep. George is philosophical: "We are human animals. What is intelligence? In the beginning the men are loud but after a while they are quiet. It must be essential for them to snore. It's the same with feet, the odour; if it isn't essential, why would the body have it?"

That's not for me to say.

The shelter pushes George onto the street at 8 a.m. and will not let him back in until 4:30 p.m. He spends most of his time on the street with his documents in the bag.

"My papers. What if I lose them? There's no way I'm going to survive this."

He told me about some of his chronic health problems: back, neck, heart, both wrists. He gets by on a disability pension. He has a doctor's note that says his "mental and physical condition has been deteriorating since he has been living in a shelter. He has a medical need, for maintaining his health, to be able to return to his apartment."

The doctor's orders are trumped by the order of the court. George may not return to his apartment until the charges are resolved.

He was allowed to pick up his medication and some personal items, but you can't keep much stuff in a locker at a shelter. And as we talked, he plucked at the hem of his windbreaker, as if it were hanging on a rack and not his person. The lining was thin and torn and held together with a safety pin. He said, "I have to go to court like this."

He put his papers back in the bag. He keeps them in plastic baggies to protect them from the rain. He does not have an umbrella or a raincoat.

Nor can he tell his side of the story until he gets to court. Until then, he's been cut adrift, or perhaps he has cut himself adrift; in any case, he is unmoored.

And I am no judge of illness, intentions or altercations, nor do I care to be.

But if George is ill, he ought not to be in a shelter. And if he is not ill, would he be in a shelter at the moment?

Life on the street is like this for him: "I'm followed by prostitutes, security guards, big guys. I assume they are police. I pretend to have a cellphone. I say, `I'm late. My car broke down.'"

I had to ask. I wish there was an answer.

Joe Fiorito usually appears Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Email: jfiorito@thestar.ca