This means something to me.

An expectation of my current position is that my colleagues and I create multiple programs each semester based on diversity, sustainability, and community service. Last week I was the lead on an immersion program that focused on diversity; an adaptation of Archie Bunker's Neighborhood. It was actually a great success. We are also working on an event to bring awareness to Hunger and Homelessness by trying to plan a "One Night Without a Home" event at the end of National Hunger and Homelessness Awareness Week. I brought this idea forward. I was excited to get the chance to work on something like this again, as I had supported Resident Assistants at University of Pittsburgh-Greensburg when I was working there as a Graduate Resident Director. When I was at Pitt-Greensburg we didn't orchestrate a large event like "One Night Without a Home", but it's something that I've always been interested in trying to make happen.

This is something that I was working on. This is something that I wanted to happen. During some of the planning meetings with my colleagues were trying to decide how this program was going to work, what we were going to provide, what students could bring. I wanted to try to be as realistic as possible. I didn't want students to bring cell phones. I didn't want students to bring ipods/radios/etc. I didn't want to really allow for too many amenities that take away from the experience. I got resistance. We're in Buffalo, NY in November.  I get it. We need to think about the safety of the students. I get it. I'm not trying to hurt anyone, but I would like them to have an experience to think about. I don't like fluff. I don't like glossing over hard topics. This means something to me.

Sitting in the planning meetings it was hard to not speak up. It was difficult to just nod my head and wave the white flag. I wasn't ready to share. I didn't want to share. I didn't want to go into the details right then, right there. I get it now. I thought about how the last planning meeting went and what I was holding back from saying. I get it now. I understand why this means something to me.

I was homeless.

I was homeless.

I was homeless.

January 19, 1996 a flood devastated my town. Just two years prior my town was also struck by disaster; another flood, one in which I almost lost my life, but that's a whole other story. January 19, 1996, this date is stuck in my brain. Throughout the flood my family and I were in our house; second floor duplex. I watched our car that was parked out front get swept by our house. I watched our brick garage collapse. I watched other people's belongings go down stream. I watched my town become a raging river. These are things I remember vividly. We stayed in our home until the water subsided later into the evening. We were rescued by neighbors who drove a backhoe to our front porch and scooped us to safety. We had nowhere to go. We were homeless. We were renting our home from the church we belonged to. We had been renting the same house since 1987. I don't recall the details but one of the jobs my Mom had was as a cook for the only restaurant in town. The owner and my Mom's boss allowed us to move into a room on her second floor. A family from our church who owed a very large house allowed us to keep belongings that we didn't lose in their basement. For 9 months my mother, my sister, and myself lived in a single room. We shared one full size bed, one in which I would usually get kicked out of and slept on the floor because I moved and kicked in my sleep too much. For 9 months we lived in a single room. I was lucky that I was in school because I could count on getting a meal. I was lucky that sometimes my school bus would arrive at school early enough so that I could eat breakfast, these days I loved. For 9 months most of my dinners were made of peanut butter and jelly on saltines. Our luck changed slightly. We were still homeless, but we seemed to be moving up in the world. The family that owned the backhoe had an unfinished basement that wasn't really being used, we were welcomed in their space so we had a little more room. We moved our belongings we had with us from the single room above the restaurant that my mother worked in to an unfinished basement in the home of family friends. We were still homeless. The family had a pull out couch in the basement. My mother and sister slept on the couch, I slept on the couch cushions on the concrete floor. We were homeless, but we at least felt like we had a place to call home for now. For another 9 months we were homeless. My mother worked 3-4 jobs during this time to try and support us to find a new place to live. We were homeless for a total of 18 months. Things didn't automatically get better. With all that my mother was able to save we purchased an old 1960's trailer. During the time that we owned the trailer the back half of the electrical system went and to get power into the master bedroom, which my sister and I shared, we had to run industrial extension cord. This is how we got power to the bathroom too. During the time we owned that home anytime it rained we would have a waterfall in the middle of our living room. This home wasn't perfect. It's not what most people would call a home, but it was ours and we made it the best we could.

This program isn't to be a mockery. This program is to bring awareness. We hoped to educate students. I hoped to get them thinking about what some people go through. I want to challenge them. I want to see how this makes them feel. I want to see their thought process. I want it to me something to them because this means something to me.

I'm asking too much.

National Hunger and Homelessness Awareness Week is November 16-24