Age Spots

Jacob isn't happy about getting old. He reaches for a napkin and catches sight of his hands. "They are knobby and crooked, thin-skinned and--like my ruined face--covered in liver spots."

He goes on to note many of the indignities the elderly endure daily, and he does it in his usual wry manner. It's not just the food that's bland, we learn. It's life itself. "Nothing happens to me anymore," he complains.

But today is supposed to be different. There's a circus setting up just down the street from Jacob's nursing home. Jacob is waiting for his family to come and wheel him down the street so he can attend the circus. But first he has to eat his porridge and get cleaned up...

Madison's Homeless Book Club met today to discuss chapters 7, 8 and 9 of our selection. We ran overtime. Again. Nobody seemed to mind.

Among other things, today we learned where the term dukey or dukie came from. Jack, our group etymologist, found the answer at www.hobonickels.org. The first cookhouse was known as the Hotel du Quai. When pronounced quickly, du Quai sounds like 'dukey' and the name stuck. Hence, our 1920's circus workers got dukey lunch boxes.

Overall, our group remains very engaged by the story. Some, like Jack, were so taken in by these last few chapters that they couldn't stop reading and plowed on ahead. Everyone seems alternately amused, appalled, and intrigued by details in Jacob's story. There was, however, a slight cry of dissent today: Could the next book be funny? We need some laughter! We discussed this briefly and decided heck no! We are gathered here to wallow in shared misery.

No, not really. We are all up for a laugh. Seriously. On the spot I did have trouble coming up with much beyond Garfield and The Onion. The ideas slowly came to me. I was about to mention books by Carl Hiassen, Dave Barry, and Stephen Colbert, but then Norv said the books should also be in good taste so I stayed quiet.

As you may guess, we are on the verge of selecting our next read. Have a good idea? Send it to me. I'm making no promises, though. The group gets to decide.

Meanwhile, we are enjoying both young and old versions of Jacob. As an old man he draws our empathy--he's ninety, or ninety three, he can't remember; widowed and living in a nursing home and barely able to care for himself. Simultaneously he amuses us with his determination to seem mentally alert and agile. He tries to memorize his nurse's name. Rosemary. Rosemary. Rosemary... He tugs at our hearts when he tells how none of his five children was able to live with him, or he with them, and so one day he sadly left his house for the last time, "...bundled up like a cat on the way to the vet. As the car pulled away, my eyes were so clouded by tears I couldn't look back."

My own eyes brim with tears every time I read that part.

From here we took turns recalling what it was like to return to a home we once loved and had to leave--perhaps we left because we grew up and it was time, or perhaps because we didn't grow up and it was time... Whatever. We all had stories. One thing our visits had in common was this: houses and yards looked bigger and better in our memories than they did upon our return visits. As Norv said, you almost wished you hadn't gone back.

As a young man, Jacob draws our admiration. In chapter 7, Jacob realizes he cannot save the ailing circus horse. He takes a single bullet and puts it out its misery despite the fact that Uncle Al has threatened to red-light Jacob if a single animal dies.

Marlena is crushed. In his own inexperienced and awkward way, Jacob tries to comfort her. When Jacob and Marlena aren't looking, the ever-scheming August feeds the deceased horse to the lions.

Jacob is taken aback by unfolding events. August uses his worldly wisdom to reassure Jacob. "It's all an illusion," August says. "It's what people want from us. It's what people expect."

In chapter 8, Jacob is once again confronting the stark realities of aging. He glimpses his own reflection in the vanity and loses his appetite. "When," he asks, "did I stop being me?" He curls up in bed and stares out the window at the sky--the unchanging sky. We sense his longing, his loneliness, his sense of loss, as he waits for his family to arrive.

In chapter 9, we're back in time. Uncle Al shows his true colors. (Not that he's hidden them, or even tried to, at any other point along the way...) The circus trains have arrived in Joliet and Uncle Al is bidding ferociously on the remains of a bankrupt circus there. In the heat of the day, he deprives the animals of water as a way to manipulate the bargaining process--to add urgency and guilt to the selling party, to speed things along. In the end Uncle Al fails to score Charlie Whats-it, the dapper man with the infant growing out of his chest. He does however manage to purchase an elephant.

Enter, Rosie.

Well, that's all for this week. Thanks everyone for your emails and for reading along with us. You add to the fun. I'm off to Kenosha to visit my mother who is in the hospital undergoing a cardiac procedure. She has seven children and her children have children and so on and so forth and so there will be about 80 of us surrounding her bed. Doctors and nurses will tremble in the doorway. To reach their patient, it'll take an act of Moses. By the way, she's taking the whole aging thing quite gracefully. In fact, she's hoping to continue the process for quite some time. Age spots? Bring 'em on.

Our next meeting:

Tuesday December 8th at Noon

Bethel Lutheran Church

312 Wisconsin Ave.

Chapters 10, 11 and 12

Til then,

Suzanne

Thanksgiving-itis

We started off today with our hero, Jacob Jankowski, blubbering away in a nursing home. He is ninety, or ninety three. He isn't sure.

Madison's Homeless Book Club met today to discuss chapters 5, 6 and 7, but we didn't get as far as planned. There's a good reason: we had the itis.

Let me explain.

You know that overwhelming urge to fold your hands and doze off? It nearly overpowers you. It's especially common this time of year, and contagious. It's often triggered by eating a wonderful meal, say, like Thanksgiving dinner. My teenage sons call this urge the itis. That's what we had. The itis.

Steve, Bethel's chef who also happens to own and operate Mad Dog Eatery on Henry Street, prepared a fabulous Thanksgiving dinner for the men and women attending the Homeless Spiritual Support Group. The meal included the usual fixings: Turkey. Stuffing. Sweet potatoes (never had 'em so good), mashed potatoes (from scratch), gravy, and pumpkin pie. Is your mouth watering yet?

Oh, and green bean casserole.

Not too surprisingly, since rumors of food travel quickly on the street, attendance today reached an all-time high. There were many new people at the support group and about 30 stayed for the meal.

After this belly-bulging Thanksgiving meal, a handful of us managed to haul ourselves away from the table and up to the Good Shepherd Chapel. We lost a few attendees along the way, to the itis. Or second and third helpings. Once settled, we found ourselves strolling more leisurely than usual through our chapters. Nonetheless we traveled seventy years. Backward. That's quite a feat.

In chapter 5 Jacob is in his nineties and making a scene in the nursing home dining room. He is upset with the food. When the attendees confront him, he gives his tray a shove--a bit too hard--and it slides to the floor. Crash. Mess. A nurse immediately wheels Jacob back to his room. The doctor is called and decides Jacob is depressed. "Common among the elderly." She prescribes an antidepressant. (Very realistic.) Jacob refuses to take the pill at first but caves in after being threatened with a shot of Valium. He takes the pill but ends up getting the injection anyway. Unfair, he says. The medicine turns him into a "Jell-O eating sheep."

In chapter 6, Jacob is 23 again. Lucky dude, you might think. Except he's just lost his parents, his home and his chance to complete a degree in veterinary medicine at Cornell. It's fair to point out here that members in our group have indicated similar overwhelming accumulations of loss at various times in their own lives. For some, fact registers more brutally than fiction. Now young Jacob is working in a circus, sleeping nights in a train car on a wet horse blanket just feet from Kinko, a Shakespeare-reading-dwarf who hates him; and Jacob is falling in love with the lovely Marlena, who is married to August. Lousy circumstances. That's fiction for ya. Good fiction, anyway.

August caused some debate. Is he friend or foe? At this point it's a bit unclear. In some ways August takes care of Jacob--sets him up with the work, gets him clean clothes and a bucket of clean water to wash up. At the same time August cleverly sets Jacob up for trouble--the bucket of water belonged to none-other-than Kinko! August devises other 'accidents'. There is the scene where August tells Jacob to open the cage of Rex, the lion, and feed him, and Jacob obeys. Rex bites down on Jacob's arm and Jacob fears the worse. Imagine the young Jacob's surprise and relief to find his arm still attached.

Rex is toothless.

We learned more about Uncle Al, too, the circus owner. He suddenly uproots the circus and heads to Joliet in an attempt to score a freak for his circus. The freak is a person named Charles Mansfield-Livingston, described as "a handsome, dapper man with a parasitic twin growing out of his chest." Nowadays calling people freaks is freaky. Do that and you are the freak. Trust me.

Jack got back to us today about the term 'on the lam'. Jack is core. He's come to every meeting. During our 4 weeks of existence he's been solid. Reliable. When he offered to look up the origin of this saying, he meant it. 'On the lam' comes from the word lambasted and means to 'beat'. To beat it. Scram. Flee. To be on the lam generally means to be running away from trouble, as from the law. Thanks Jack, for the information and for being here. Reliably.

All in all, it was a good day for Bethel's homeless ministries. The support group was well attended, the food delicious, and the discussion interesting. But here's my favorite part. When we concluded with the book discussion, nobody seemed eager to leave. Was it the itis? I don't know. We lingered...

And we struck gold. Pure gold.

One of the members told us the book club helps because talking about what she's reading makes it stick better. She likes it well enough to avoid scheduling anything else on Tuesdays. In addition, she really likes the book. Then she thanked us! Meeting like this makes her feel less alone.

"It's like someone cares," she said.

Indeed.

~Suzanne

Next Meeting:

Tuesday December 1st at Noon

Bethel Lutheran Church

312 Wisconsin Ave.

Chapters 7, 8 and 9

Thanks to members of Celebration Circle for their generous financial gift to support Bethel's homeless ministries.

Suddenly Life's a Circus

No small talk or preamble. We launch right in. Our story's hero, Jacob Jankowski, has landed in the circus. He is getting an education and so are we.

The Madison Book Club for the Homeless met for the third time today. Five men and one woman joined Norv and me in the Good Shepherd Chapel at Bethel Lutheran Church, prepared to discuss chapters 3 & 4 of Sara Gruen's novel, Water for Elephants.

As you may recall, these six persons are homeless, or nearly so. They may be chronically homeless, intermittently homeless, acutely homeless or on the verge of becoming homeless. Whatever the case, it's fair to assume that their lives are in turmoil. Nonetheless they come together to discuss fiction. Go figure. It's rather remarkable. Endearing, too. Once you've seen it, you'll know what I mean. Join us sometime. Well, don't just drop in for one or two meetings. Instead, pick one of the books we'll be covering and come to all the discussions on that book. Come reliably. We need reliability. And come especially if you have some unique perspective or experience that works with the book's theme.

If you do come, chances are you'll notice that our book club is developing a personality. This group clearly likes to keep the discussion focused on the story. They do share personal anecdotes, but for the most part these have tied in nicely to the story at hand. We may wander off course here and there, but we always and quickly find our way back. Consequently, not a twist in our hero's life goes unmentioned.

At this time in the story, Jacob unwittingly climbs on a circus train and through various trials lands himself a job and a place to sleep. He is surrounded by strange characters, animals and rules. In order to survive the circus, he has to hone up on a whole new class system and learn the lingo. And fast. In the circus, tiny errors can have big consequences no matter how innocently--or not so innocently--they come about.

One of the great things about this book is that it's easy to feel a part of Jacob's experience. For example, as Jacob struggles to make sense of his new circumstances, so do we. We engaged in a lively discussion about some of the phrases and terms Jacob is learning, like "on the lam" and "redlighted". Our book club members had a good idea what these things meant but their curiosity went further. They wanted to know how these phrases came into being. One member offered to google the origin of 'on the lam' and report back to the group next week. This was his idea, not Norv's or my own. We couldn't be happier that a member wants to contribute in this way.

We also covered topics such as trains, hobos, circus acts, the depression era, zoos, and our own childhood trips to the circus. Everyone had been to the circus at least once and had stories to share. One of the members asked if next week he could have the floor for a few minutes to share with us from his own experience of working in a circus. The general consensus? Heck yeah!

Standing near the door I watch our book club members prepare to leave. I don't know why but I feel a little sad. Maybe it's a feeling akin to survivor's guilt: I have someplace warm to go tonight and our book club members might not... They gather their coats, books, remainders from lunch, and, in some cases, the entirety of their worldly possessions. With their treasures tucked under an arm, thrown over a shoulder, or stuffed inside a coat pocket, they are off.

And they are smiling--every single one of them--which makes me smile, too.

~Suzanne

Members elected to read three chapters--5, 6, and 7--for next week.

Photo by Rod Melotte

www.melottephotoimagery.com

The Confession

I have a confession to make. No, not that one. This one: Sometimes I come across a homeless person and I am frightened. There, I've said it. It's out in the open.

Late in the evening I often find myself walking home from a downtown restaurant or meeting place. It's dark. Maybe rainy. I turn the corner and Pow! there's a homeless man rolled up in newspapers asleep on the sidewalk at my feet, or curled in the doorway of a building. I step around him and move on, but my heart is racing and I'm suddenly clutching my purse a little tighter and pulling my husband--if he's available--a little closer. This reaction seems instinctive, protective, understandable.

I bring this up because folks have been asking me about fear ever since we started talking about this book club. Fear seems to be a common initial reaction to homeless people.

This fear is multifaceted and probably a little different for every one of us, but in me I can identify at least two components. First there's the fear for my safety, which is self explanatory. Second, there is the fear of God. What I mean by this is that I am very aware that God sees me walking by this homeless person, and he knows what is going on in my heart. Usually it's turmoil. The problem seems overwhelming and the answers hard to find. I wonder what I'm supposed to do to help this particular homeless person. And that one sitting on the park bench. And the one on the corner asking for money. And the family with children who was just turned away by the Salvation Army because the shelter was already full...

One recent night, the Salvation Army had to turn away forty people including women with children. Those folks had nowhere to go but back out onto the streets of Madison. In our present economy, this is an increasingly common occurrence. Depressing, huh?

So imagine my surprise and delight upon walking into church today to the sounds of laughter and chatter emanating from the Good Shepherd Chapel. The Homeless Spiritual Support Group was just breaking up. You'd never guess that just an hour earlier a couple dozen folks with fears of their own had walked in and plopped down wondering: Where will I sleep tonight? Will I get any dinner? Will I ever find a job, a home, a family to call my own? How will I pay for my medications this month? The work that Pastor Laura, Arlan and Mark do with this group is truly transformational.

Fortunately for those of us who participated in the Homeless Book Club, which met right after the Homeless Spiritual Support Group, the good vibe continued. The four homeless men and women who stayed seemed happy with the book selection. Norv guided the discussion so that we covered the prologue and first two chapters in fairly good order but still had time for the open exchange of ideas and personal stories.

That Norv. What a good memory! He drew the group along in such a way that those who didn't get all the reading done, or couldn't remember every bit they read, could participate fully. Two members seemed shy but were readily drawn out with questions. The other two were very eager to contribute and, at times, to entertain. It proved to be a wonderful mix. The range of reading skills and literary interest was wide but nobody got snooty or defensive. How refreshing is that? I tell you, it was a downright good discussion. Furthermore, without us laying down any particular rules, everyone took turns and showed genuine interest in what others had to say.

As troubling as the opening events of Water for Elephants can be, this proved to be a fun and uplifting meeting. As a physician I attended many meetings, mostly with other physicians and health care administrators. Quit frankly, I'd rather meet with the homeless. There, I said it. It's out in the open.

~Suzanne

Reading along with us? Read chapters 3 & 4 for next week.

Photo of Jenny the Elephant of the Carson & Barnes Circus by Rod Melotte, 2008. www.melottephotoimagery.com

Pitching Our Tent

We're off to a good start--nine homeless men, nine new books.

For the inaugural event of the book club for the homeless, Norv had to wing it alone. I was attending the annual donor luncheon for the Dane County Humane Society. I serve on the DCHS board and we find ways to help people help critters, usually of the homeless or wounded variety. Norv was happy to serve the homeless humans at the book club by himself and he filled me in later.

For Norv, some of the men that came to the book club were familiar, others were not. Some came directly from the support group, which meets just before. Norv has been dropping in at the support group, making acquaintances. Other men came in fresh off the streets just in time for the book club to start. One or two didn't stay long; they looked around and left without taking a copy of the book even though it was offered. Perhaps they were expecting food, or hoping to see a familiar face, or maybe that brief appearance took all the courage they had.

Hopefully over time we'll have a better understanding of such things. Maybe, just maybe, they'll be back.

The men seemed curious, for the most part, though a few were a little suspicious. "Who picked the book?" "And why?" they wanted to know. Norv explained that the book club for the homeless in Boston got its start with this particular book and that this book seemed to resonate well with the homeless there. For the most part they seemed satisfied, though one was still unsure. "Maybe we could have some say on which books we read in the future," he suggested.

The attendees agreed to meet here next week to talk about the prologue and first two chapters. Then, with their shiny new books tucked inside backpacks or underarm, they trudged off into the chill fall air...

~Suzanne


*We'd like to thank another of Bethel's Women's Circles, Grace, for its recent cash donation to the book club.

**Photograph by Rod Melotte. www.melottephotoimagery.com

The Big Day

Tomorrow is the big day, the first meeting of our book club for the homeless in Madison.

"Aw, rubbish," some will say. "What good is a book club for homeless people?" In Boston, the first book club of this type has been a hit among the homeless and has, through various means, done wonders for the self-esteem of its members. What will such a club accomplish in Madison? Well, we're going to find out.

"Can they even read?" some people ask. Pastor Laura tells of a homeless man who studies Kant's philosophy and another who is reading Rumsfeld's biography. So yes, some can and do.

And there's more good news.

As is true for the founding group in Boston, ours won't be meeting in a basement. This is refreshing to people who are often shuffled into less prominent places where they are less likely to upset other building patrons. (Out of sight, out of mind?) Not our group. We'll be meeting at Bethel Lutheran Church in a first floor room replete with upholstered chairs and carpeting. All we need now is a fireplace and Shep, the old dog, lying on the rug in front of a crackling fire.

At our first meeting, Norv, one of the group leaders and a longtime Bethel member, will be handing out copies of our first book selection, a novel by Sara Gruen called Water for Elephants.

If you'd like to read along, we'll be meeting next week to discuss the prologue and first two chapters. Stay tuned for what happens next.

First Meeting:

12:30 PM Tuesday, November 3rd

Bethel Lutheran Church

312 Wisconsin Ave.

Bethel's Book Club for the Homeless

~Suzanne

A Book Club is Born

From a rare friendship, a book club for the homeless is

born.

At the crest of Beacon Hill in a well-appointed room, the

Tuesday morning book club is tearing a novel apart. The story

of the book club, now having marked its one year anniversary,

began with a stunningly unlikely friendship, between two men

from different worlds: Peter Resnik, a high-powered lawyer on

his way to work, and Rob, a homeless man guarding a friend’s

shopping cart on Boston Common.

Through months of daily conversation that began with jokes

and sports talk and gradually delved deeper, they found a common

interest: literature. After sharing a book, they started a book club.

Their story has been told on CBS and You Tube and our

members have seen their story; one of them, Wendy Coe, told

me about it and approached me about potentially starting such

a book club as an extension of our homeless ministry.

Beginning November 3rd, we will start a homeless book club

here at Bethel. We will be one of five such book clubs that we are

aware of in the country: New York, Detroit, Boston, Jackson-

ville and now Madison. Our book club is possible due to a

generous start up donation of $500 from the University Hill

Farms Circle. Bethel members Suzanne Alexander and Norv

Bernhardt will be leading the weekly book club.

Our first book will be “Water for Elephants,” a story set in

the Great Depression about a veterinary student who joins a traveling

circus.

In the one year that the Boston book club has been in

existence, it has proved its power to reach homeless people and

build their confidence, filling the gaps left by programs that

offer food and shelter but little or no personal connec-

tion. When talk flows at the book club, the dynamic that

emerges has been powerful. The members are equals, linked

by what they read and respected for their insights. Their dis-

cussions are both a stimulus and respite for people used to

staying focused on survival.

The friendships we have made in our weekly homeless

spiritual support group have been transformative for all of us who

have participated. As we undertake this new mission, we pray that

this ministry can be an effort in helping to restore self esteem and hope.

~Pastor Laura Sutherland