Anxiety as homeless begin moving out of Fort Worth shelter
Samuel David Speck spent his first night in the “real world” Monday.
The 60-year-old spread a sleeping bag on the floor of his empty, silent apartment. He slid inside, took off his glasses and closed his eyes.
Turns out, sleep doesn’t come any easier in the real world.
“All these things going on in my head, you know,” Speck said. “Did I put this, that and the other on the list of furniture that I need. What am I forgetting?”
For the last six years, Speck has lived at the Presbyterian Night Shelter. He slept on a bunk inches from other homeless men. His few possessions included a Panama hat, a canteen and a couple of ponchos.
Speck is among 65 clients moving out of the shelter this summer and into permanent supportive housing through a program funded by Fort Worth’s 10-year-plan to end homelessness.
It is the largest relocation of residents from the city’s biggest emergency shelter through one program. It will, advocates say, provide clients stable housing while caseworkers help them resolve problems that kept them homeless.
But the transition also stirs emotions — fear, excitement, uncertainty — among those who consider the shelter their safety net, especially older, more vulnerable clients.
“The shelter isn’t the real world,” Speck said. “You don’t make your own decisions in here. It’s a different world out there.”
Reluctant to leave
For nine months, Speck has slept in a room at the shelter set aside for men 60 and older. Those clients are allowed to stay inside the shelter all day because of their age and health.
But the shelter has been his home since 2002. Nicknamed “Rock ’n’ Roll” for his tendency to dance whenever there is music, he is a fixture among the clients. “I know this place pretty well,” said Speck, sporting a bright red shirt.
A vulnerability survey of Tarrant County’s homeless identified Speck among more than 100 people who urgently needed permanent supportive housing. The survey was based on factors such as age and health. Many of the most vulnerable were found in the night shelter.
The program will pay Speck’s rent until he starts to earn income, whether it be from a job or Social Security benefits, said Lyndsay Hoover, the shelter’s interim director. Then Speck will pay 30 percent of his rent.
Through all its transitional programs, the shelter expects to move 35 percent of elderly clients into more stable housing by fall, Hoover said. At any given time, the shelter may have 100 elderly clients.
The percentage moving out is unprecedented in part because older clients tend to stay for years.
When Stephanie Broussard, a caseworker for the Area Agency on Aging of Tarrant County who is assigned to the shelter, arrived in October, she found few elderly clients interested in leaving.
“They were like, ‘No, that’s OK,’ ” she said. “Here, they have a guarantee that people will come check on them. They have people watching out for them, fending for them. It’s hard to leave that behind.”
Those who want out are sometimes trapped. Eugene Andrews, 67, who has stayed at the shelter for 15 years, didn’t have a birth certificate or his correct Social Security number, she said.
It meant that he could not get state identification. And it meant that he could pretty much forget about finding his own place to live.
In a few days, he will move into an apartment through the program.
“Otherwise, he would never have gotten out,” Broussard said. “He would have lived here until he died, and that would have been really sad.”
A new life
Clients who move out will be visited by caseworkers to help them adjust to their new homes. They will face new responsibilities. Many, for example, haven’t cooked their own meals in years.
“I haven’t done much of it,” Speck said. “But it will feel good to do again.”
Sitting in the night shelter cafeteria where he has eaten his meals for the last 15 years, Andrews’ voice rose with excitement at the thought of standing over his own stove.
“I’m going to make bacon and eggs in the morning,” he said. “Been a while since I’ve got to do that.”
It could, at times, be a lonely meal. Many of the older clients have formed friendships. Those in the 60-and-older room sleep inches apart. They share meals together.
The supportive housing placements are scattered around Fort Worth to reintegrate homeless into mainstream society rather than create new homeless districts. Caseworkers help them follow bus schedules.
“We’ll just go to each other’s houses,” Andrews said. “I’ll still see the guys.”
As it prepared for the move-out blitz, the shelter sought donated furniture for the clients’ new homes. Speck’s caseworker gave him his key Monday. Even though his furnishings wouldn’t arrive for a few days, he asked her to drop him off so he could stay the night.
On Tuesday, after a night in the empty apartment, he returned to the shelter. He was full of ideas.
“I’m going to hang my canteen and ponchos on the walls and go with a Southwestern look,” he said, holding up two colorful ponchos. “That will look kind of good, I think.”
He packed his clothes into two plastic bins. He placed his Panama hat atop his head; slid on a pair of sunglasses. He looked like a man leaving for vacation.
“When they first told me I was moving, I was pretty anxious,” he said. “Now that I’ve seen my new place, I’m excited. I’m probably as excited as I’ve ever been.”
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