Oklahoma City woman finds help for ‘houseless, not homeless’
The two women take a trail that snakes past one of the only signs of joy in a cold and lonesome life.
It’s a little green Christmas tree, dressed with the silver and red ornaments of the season, and rising thighhigh and defiant against the brown and barren trees that tower above them.
The woman ahead is Alyce Furr. She’s in her 40s
and clutching a Chihuahua named Chewey. The 62-year-old woman behind her may have saved her life. Or at least her Christmas. Her name is Barbara Hill.
Nearly every night now for about a month, usually after Hill has left her training technician job at the Federal Aviation Administration but before reaching her home in the historic Gatewood neighborhood, they’ve convened not far from the North Canadian River, where Furr makes due with a tarp-covered tent, a fire pit and the small amount of food she buys with government assistance. On this night, Furr glances at a fire pit gone cold and cooking pots strewn about the leafdraped dirt and then at her guests.
“Sorry I didn’t do the dishes,” she says. “It’s a little cold.”
Hill smiles. Dressed in a hooded coat and green pants accented by snowflakes, candy canes and Christmas trees, she sets down the coffees she bought at a nearby convenience store.
Donated clothes hang from a tree, a makeshift outdoor closet. A donated bicycle rests against a one of several tarps that offer the family little respite from the cold winter winds. Donated jugs of fresh water encircle the ashen fire pit.
“I just saw you had a need,” Hill says. “As one person, I can only do so much. As a community, I can do a lot.”
It’s three days before Christmas. Furr thanks the Lord. Hill and her Oklahoma City neighborhood have warmed her body and heart, filled her hungry stomach and lifted her spirit.
Neighborly things
They met at a Dollar Tree store at Reno Avenue and MacArthur Boulevard.
It was just before Thanksgiving and Hill doesn’t normally shop at the store, but she was paying a phone bill nearby when she decided to pick up a few items before a Caribbean vacation. Standing in line and steeling herself for the cutting cold outside, Hill overheard Furr asking for double bags, and talking about the need to save her money for the bus.
Admittedly out of character, Hill asked the woman if she wanted a ride in her car.
“Sometimes, you have to go with your gut feeling,” she says.
Furr said yes, and when Hill asked where she was going, Furr paused and said she lived in a tent among other people near the river.
A well-worn story of bad breaks and heartache followed. Furr and her man, who didn’t want to be noted or quoted for this story, were looking to save money for an apartment. Shelters were hard to get into. A group of people they’d met recently survived down by the river. They say they’ve been down there now about three or four months, choosing to hunker down there even through the recent icy nights.
Hill dropped her off by the river that first night. They exchanged phone numbers. During her vacation, Hill thought of the woman she met at Dollar Tree. When she returned home, Hill called Furr and invited her over. They sorted through some winter clothes, but mainly spent their time talking about the woman’s plight.
Hill asked about Christmas plans and Furr said she wanted her man to have a bicycle so he could get some work as a painter for a company. The bike would help with trips to the bus stop, and treks to the convenience store, where they bottle their water.
Furr said she lives on disability and food stamps, their tent was donated, and so was a propane cooktop and lantern. Blankets and pillows would be nice to have. Hats and gloves and socks, too. Maybe even some plastic utensils. She didn’t ask for those things, but Hill took note.
Then Hill took to the Internet. On Nextdoor. com, a website where people keep each other posted about local goings-on, Hill enlisted the help of her Gatewood neighbors and began collecting many of the items the river people needed. People beyond Gatewood pitched in too.
Nearly every day after work, and on weekends, Hill has loaded up her little car with donated items, driven to the riverside and dropped off everything from groceries and laundry soap to bedding and cold medication.
Furr’s man got his bike. They call it “the Cadillac.” Chewey got a red sweater.
Furr says she isn’t homeless, just houseless. Her home is the tent between the trees; her kitchen is the fire pit; the restroom is a few steps into the sticks. She looks at the surrounding stuff the strangers gave her.
“All this is because of God,” Furr says with gratitude. “Sometimes I get discouraged. I was freezing my butt off the other night. But I thought, ‘you know what? At least I have a heater.’”
Furr pops the lid off the hot drink Hill bought her. She empties little packets of sugar in the coffee.
“Y’all don’t mind my coffee stirrer,” Furr says. “Believe it or not, I’ve never been camping before.”
She stirs her coffee with a twig.
Outreach all around
In January this year, community volunteers and government agencies counted more than 1,500 homeless people in Oklahoma City.
It is estimated that a community’s homeless population is four to five times a one-time count, so there could be between 6,000 and 7,500 homeless people in the city, according to the Homeless Alliance. Advocates don’t recommend taking the homeless into your home.
“People who are homeless are people first, and their homelessness is hopefully a temporary condition, so you would treat a person who is homeless like you would treat any other person,” says Dan Straughan, executive director of the Homeless Alliance. “Be civil and polite and make eye contact, and all that stuff. By the same token, if I met a stranger on the street, homeless or not doesn’t matter, I’m probably not going to invite them into my car or my house. They’re somebody I don’t know.”
Straughan says there are lots of things people can do to help the homeless, such as making care packages with food, water, socks and toiletries. A big need is bus tokens, so they can get to social service centers.
Hill checked with police to make sure she was safe. They know about Furr and the river people.
The Oklahoma Police Department has a Homeless Outreach Team that keeps contact with people on the street.
Lt. Dustin Whitten says the team delivers food, water and other necessities. They offer rides to homeless people in need of social services.
“Don’t give them money,” Whitten says. “Good clothes are fine. When it comes to assistance, especially during the holidays, they have a lot of resources, with the Homeless Alliance and the religious organizations that have food pantries, sleeping bags and shelter. There are a lot of resources out there.”
A great way to help the homeless is to give to the groups that are on the frontlines of advocacy work, Whitten says.
For Hill, the frontline is a wooded area near the North Canadian River.
An expanded heart
She has to go. Hill’s eyesight isn’t good at night. She’s invited Furr to church this weekend — Christmas weekend.
“I’m not ashamed to be out here,” Furr says. “We’re human beings. I want people to look at us differently. We’re not thieves, like so many of them out here.”
Hill reflects on lessons learned these last few weeks.
“My heart’s been expanded,” she says. “I think I have more empathy for people.”
And what if, on a cold November day, she hadn’t offered Furr a ride home? Hill gives Furr a hug.
“I wouldn’t have a new friend,” she says.
Hill bids goodnight and retraces her steps up the trail. The river people call it Christmas Tree Lane.