Benjamin

Benjamin gave me this interview a week ago. I took it back to him this morning, and he wants to edit it himself and make a few changes. So this is a working draft. The picture was made today, inside the office of Street Roots.  --Kendall.

The single best thing I ever did was with my grand-nephew. I was living with my brother in Idaho Falls, taking care of him after his stroke. He could take care of himself, really, but he needed somebody there in the house with him. It's a frightening thing, having a stroke. You're out of control of your own body, and you get spooked. So I was living with my brother, and our six-year-old grand-nephew needed help. His parents couldn't deal with him. He has autism, and he has some speech problems. You can look at him and see how bright he is, but he has a real short fuse. I had a special connection with him from the start.

We'll call the kid Ralph for this purpose. He hated going to school, but right away when he started staying with me, we saw a change. I think it was the personal attention. He started to take an interest in school. He worked forty pounds off me, but it was worth it. I love that kid, and taking care of him brought out the best in me. If he woke up in the night, I was there. When he woke up in the morning, I was there. And all day, whenever he was home, we just played. I'm kind of like a kid myself in some ways. Playing just came easy to me with Ralph.

After five months, everything was going great, and he had one of his temper tantrums. Autistic kids do that. He threw himself around, I bumped him and put a tiny mark on him, a bruise. I was drinking, I'm not going to say I wasn't, but my drinking had nothing to do with what happened to Ralph, and it was really minor. The social worker came that day, she said she had to report it, and I got convicted of injury to a child. I was forbidden to be his primary caretaker, slapped with a fine and sent to a treatment program, and Ralph was shipped off to his mother, in Texas. This is what happens when you get the bureaucracy involved in your life. Soon after that my brother died, so I had no reason to stay in Idaho Falls. I lost my job as a taxi driver, my brother left me some money, and I just decided to come back to Portland. I've lived here off and on since 1986. My son, now twenty-five, was born here. So I thought, might as well go to Portland as anywhere and if worst came to worst, I could sleep in front of the rescue mission.

Looking back, I think it was the fact that I had money that made it worse for me. All I heard all day long was, "Got a cigarette?" I had to use what money I'd gotten in my brother's Will to pay the fine and to pay for the treatment program that I didn't want to be in, so what was left I used to buy cigarettes. I have not quit drinking; I stopped. I like drinking, it suits me, and I mean to go back to it when I need to.

Since I ran through my brother's money I've been no better or worse off than any other unhoused person, financially, but I do have one difference. I'm going to college at Portland Community College, taking a heavy load. I was doing real well, too, making great grades. I had a professor in an ethics class who asked me if she could read my paper to one of her classes, so it's clear I can do the work. Now recently I had a situation. I lost my shelter, somebody took my backpack and all my books. So I'm out of school at the moment, but I'll be going back. I'm definitely going back.