Searching for a Home to Call Their Own

As winter descends upon Eugene, and the holidays begin to bring people together, the home becomes an integral piece of the season’s charm. Trees and gutters get decorated with twinkling lights. Friends and family warm in front of the fire sharing eggnog and festive cheer, a welcome salvation from the frozen elements outside.  But not everyone is fortunate enough to have a home in which to escape the inclement weather.

 

The homeless population in Eugene is considerable.  What some refer to as “the downtown problem” has spread beyond the confines of Keasey Square and the bus station, to neighborhoods and abandoned lots across the city. Here the homeless have set up camp, often illegally, in protest of their living conditions and in support of their human rights

 

The camping and demonstrations began in 2011 alongside the Occupy Movement sweeping the nation at the time. The city’s homeless protested for sleep and shelter as human rights, and demanded the right to camp within the city. Two years later the fight continues, pushed by the organization Safe Legally Entitled Emergency Places to Sleep (SLEEPS) and a vocal base of homeless supporters.

 

Alley Valkyrie, A SLEEPS activist celebrated as the “Best local Hell-Raiser” of 2013 by Eugene Weekly, does not see Eugene’s situation as special.

 

““I’ve come to the conclusion that Eugene doesn’t necessarily have more homeless people than other places, you just see them more” Valkyrie said.

 

Compared to other college towns of comparable size, Eugene has a similar number of homeless residents. Cities like Ann Arbor, Michigan and Tacoma, Washington also boast large transient populations, around 3,000 yearly and rising. However, a ban on camping within the city of Eugene passed in 1983, as well as the lack of adequate support shelters in Lane County, has made the homeless population in Eugene uniquely visible. As an economic recession has caused more people to lose their jobs and homes, funding has been cut to the services dedicated to helping them, forcing individuals and families onto the streets and into camps.

 

The conditions of the existing camps in Eugene are, at best, deplorable:  Tents and make-shift shelters are pitched wherever there is room, garbage and waste are pervasive, and puddles and debris create a labyrinth of filth. But for the campers it is a safer more secure option than alleys and doorways downtown.

 

At one camp referred to as “Whoville”, near the intersection of Hillyard and Franklin, residents spend their day around an old Webber grill serving as a fire pit. Ground fires are against municipal code, and would only create more problems with the city, so the decrepit barbeque is the only source of heat.

 

As temperatures fall below freezing and the winter elements take their toll both mentally and physically, warmth becomes increasingly valuable; even scrap wood becomes a precious commodity.

 

“I’ve had to fight people off our wood supply,” Todd Nelson said, a Whoville resident and SLEEPS activist. “I stayed up all night last night guarding the wood because people try and take it, or waste it.”

 

For Todd the homeless lifestyle, while unglamorous, is not unattractive. Todd is a survivalist (his camo jacket and scraggily beard say as much) and spends much of the year in the wilderness fending for himself. He is a veteran, a father and a widower and still maintains a camp up Route 58 just outside Oakridge where he lived before he discovered Whoville.

 

It was in October, as Todd drove his small stick shift through Eugene restocking his supplies, that first he noticed the camp. Curious, he decided to stop by and introduce himself.

 

“I found that I was able to relate to and trust a lot of these people,” Todd said. “I just wanted to be everybody’s friend and help support them.”

 

Todd now lives at the camp, assuming the role of an ambassador and watchdog.

 

“I am able to draw and an income and have another place to go.”  Todd explains. “I live here as a volunteer to make sure everyone else is alright.”

 

He says that being part of the tight knit community at the camp is better than being on your own and provides security. The residents tend to look out for one another, because in many ways they are all each other have.

 

The people that live in Whoville are more than down on their luck. They are trapped in a cycle of poverty, addiction and homelessness that can stretch on forever without intervention. Many of them suffer from substance abuse and mental illness issues that have taken a heavy toll. An unforgiving life that is difficult to escape, many find solace in the short-term relationships they are able to make, but when you are surviving day-to-day its difficult to comprehend the long-term.

 

One camp set up on land donated by the city is doing their best to break the cycle. Opportunity Village Eugene (OVE) is a transitional housing project blossoming in an old lot on North Garfield. The community aims to provide a safe and secure place for the previously homeless to have a real chance at getting back on their feet. Residents are given their own homes that, while small , make a huge difference in creating a sense of self-importance, stability and privacy.

 

“It’s very important,” Says Mark Hubble the OVE Community President when asked the value of the new project. “Every single person that was invited into this community has been in survival mode, they haven’t had to, or been able to, rely on anybody.”

 

The community at OVE is more than just a place to sleep; it is a support structure for those who have been living without one. The village is self-policing and drug and alcohol free. They are very particular about who they choose to move in and make decisions as a collective. To demonstrate their commitment, all residents are required to give back to the community with their time, 10 hours a week spent maintaining the grounds and watching the front gate for visitors.

 

In appearance and function OVE is the suburb to Whoville’s inner city plight. The houses are arranged in an orderly fashion around planter box gardens that provide food for the residents. The micro-houses are either sleekly designed Conestoga Huts or sturdy 6-by-10-foot structures painted in a pleasant pastel palette. The residents are cordial and friendly. Three months after its opening OVE is an example of what is possible with a little structure and organization.

 

This past Halloween Katherine Hoye and Ron Griffith tied the knot in OVE’s first wedding ceremony. The service was humble; Community members and friends watched as Pastor Dan Bryant from the Church of the Resurrection, and The OVE Board President, performed the ceremony. For Hoye the ability to stay with Griffith has made all the difference in her effort to turn her life around.

 

“He is my rock. Without him I would be adrift,” Hoye said. “At the shelters they separate the men and the women. I missed him,” said Hoye.

 

Hoye was one of the initial residents to move into OVE. After losing her home in North Carolina last year, she and Giffith moved to Eugene to help care for his ailing mother. Upon arrival they found themselves homeless, forced to move into the shelters. Now, with the help of OVE Hoye is becoming a licensed caregiver and preparing to move out of the transitional community.

 

In all, it is a perfect demonstration of the type of changes people are making at OVE, laying foundations and the working to make their lives better.

 

“No one wants to be homeless forever, it’s always supposed to be temporary,” Hoye said. “This is here to help people transition back out of it.”

 

But the residents of OVE are a select lucky few. They have been given the gift of a second chance, a place to escape the cycle of homelessness.            Like the shelters in the Eugene, OVE has a very limited amount of space. Those unaccepted to the project maintain their day-to-day struggle on the streets, void of any structure or stability, and searching for a place to sleep.