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All they want for Christmas is a job
2008-12-26
CHICAGO (AFP) - All Raymond and Corliss Holland want for Christmas is a job. Any job will do. Just something to get them and their three children out of a Chicago homeless shelter and into a home of their own. "I don't care if it's at McDonald's," Corliss said as they sat on a couch in the shelter's front room on Christmas morning while children played nearby with donated toys. "I want a job as of yesterday because that's what's going to get us out of here and everything else will fall into place." As the US economy continues to shed jobs at an alarming rate and more people lose their homes to foreclosure amid a housing crisis, a job and a place to live are getting harder and harder to find. Already-strained social service agencies are struggling to cope with a drop in charitable donations and potential cuts in grants from budget-strapped cities and states. "The shelters, they're always full. They're always turning people away," said Julie Dworkin, policy director for the Chicago Coalition for the Homeless. "At this point, we're going to be fighting against cuts. But I'm not sure what will happen if we see a big spike in demand." There are few reliable measures of the national homeless population, but there is a lot of anecdotal evidence showing that it is rising sharply. Chicago's public school district recorded a 45-percent increase in the number of students identified as homeless in October to 8,273 from 5,697 a year ago. By November that number had risen again to 9,134. The story of how the Hollands ended up sleeping in a room so cramped with beds that they have to crawl over each other to get to the bathroom is frightening in its simplicity. One day in September, when Raymond, 53, was at work and the kids were at school, Corliss, 48, heard a knock on the door. Before she could get up to answer it, the door was broken in by a group of men from the sheriff's department who were shouting at her to put her shoes on and get outside. Their rental apartment block had been foreclosed upon. They were evicted without notice. Raymond's employer, a moving company where he'd worked for nearly 30 years, lent him a truck and some storage space for their furniture. They even put the family up in a hotel for a week. But work was drying up in the moving business as the United States slipped deeper into its worst financial crisis since the Great Depression of the 1930s. Raymond was soon out of a job. There were more than a few hard moments adjusting to homelessness, Corliss said, especially that first week in an emergency shelter when Raymond and the boys had to sleep in the hallway. Things are better now that they're in transitional housing, a 60-bed former rooming house run by Inner Voice, a local faith-based agency. They don't mind the curfew or the chores, and Corliss, who lost her job as a teaching assistant a year ago, likes being around all the children. "It might not be what we want to eat but we all have a bed to lay on and food to eat," Corliss said, explaining that there are many who are far worse off than she is. But the children, aged 14, 15 and 17, are old enough to be ashamed of the situation and try to hide it from their friends at school. The oldest, Raymond Jr, does not say a word as he watches his parents recount their story to a reporter and twitches when his father tears up as he speaks of his greatest desire: "I would like some employment." This Christmas was supposed to be a lot happier. Raymond had found a job at a meat-packing plant that paid 8.25 dollars an hour. It was two hours by bus and train from the shelter, but it was a chance to save up for their first month's rent. Until Monday, when his entire crew was told not to come back the next day. "They waited until we punched out," Raymond explained with a shake of the head. Raymond doesn't want any handouts or special treatment. He just wants to be able to provide for his family. But he is starting to get frustrated with how hard it is to find work. "This homeless situation is real deep," he said.
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