Greetings, everyone. I’ve been out of the blogging realm for a couple of months, but I have a few updates to make, which I hope to do over the course of the next week. Last Friday we had the release event for the first Shrieking Tree book, From a Growing Community, Iowa’s Homeless Youth, and it went wonderfully. So far, we have sold over 350 books through our web site and by word of mouth. This means that we are able to give $3,500 back to IHYC and YSS. If you’re wondering what happens to your money when you buy a book, have a gander at this informative little sheet I’ve whipped up.

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Dear friends,

When I first started this writing project, I told you I would keep posting stories from youth. So here’s another, though it’s more of a news article than story:

“Look at Us”
She wouldn’t look us in the eyes when we showed up. Pulling down and around on her stocking cap, her head hung down in her hands.

“Would you look here for a minute?” my girlfriend Tracy asked.

But she wouldn’t. Then the words wandered from her mouth. “You don’t know anything, man. You just don’t know.”

And the TV was blaring in the background, distracting my ears and eyes. I noticed the piles and piles of clothing in this dark room as I looked around. Across the back door of her apartment, which leads outside to the balcony, hangs a marijuana-printed blanket, blocking all the sunlight. My body feels heavy with darkness.

She started again, speaking over the volume of the TV, “You don’t know what this feels like. I feel awful. No matter what I’m on or off. I feel awful. And I can’t quit this. It’s best for me to stay on it, though. You know?”

We didn’t agree.

Over the past couple months, Tracy has told me more and more about this girl. She’s aged out of the “youth” system. But when she reappeared at outreach one night back in March, Tracy learned too much to ignore what was going on in her life and didn’t deny her help.

Tracy turned her to the Catholic Worker where she could get help as an adult after that night. And since then, this girl has come to the Worker. That’s when I started learning more of her background.

At age twelve, this girl got her first high. Her mom went first. Right after the needle went into her mom’s arm, her mom passed out. Watching from across that one room apartment, this girl then went over, pulled the needle from her mom’s arm, and injected that last bit of heroin. At twelve, she was hooked. She also contracted hepatitis C.

Over the course of the next ten years (until today), her downward battle with drugs has only subsided three times: rehab twice and prison, where she had time to finish her high school degree. And she was only able to afford these habits through selling her body, which put her out on the streets for many years.

Now, she’s 22. Her housing is paid by the state. And by selling herself and the drugs, she pays for her addictions. It’s all she knows. Like mother, like daughter. And her dad is somewhere close. But they don’t get along.

“This is all I want. Most people who live the sort of life I live are either dead from the habit or were killed by those who needed more. Trust me, I know. There used to be like thirty people around me, who used to shoot up with me. There are less than five of us left. I going to go soon, too,” she said as she pulled a cigarette from its box and looked at us for the first time. “You can’t live this sort of life and expect to keep alive.”

“But we can get you help!”

“How? No one wants me anymore. No system wants me. They all know me! They’ve all seen what kind of person I’ve remained after going through their programs.”

And that’s why we’re stuck. She’s telling the truth. Every morning she shows up at the methadone clinic by Drake, stands in line with all the other addicts, and talks to the nurses about getting help. Of course she wants help, just like all the other addicts who want help but keep coming back.

And no nurse will admit her.

“You need to get out of here. Away from these other people. Away from those who know you. You need to get somewhere you can get help and don’t feel the pull back into this habit.” Tracy’s statement hit home.

Slowly sobering, this girl looked up at us. “You don’t know what it feels like to have someone who actually cares right now. I didn’t remember what it felt like until you came around here, Tracy. But each moment I’m torn between knowing what I want and knowing what I have. Knowing what I should do but not being able to do it. Because it’s easier to be lost than sober. And I’m scared. And that’s why I don’t want to leave here and go back to rehab. And when I’m high, I don’t want to be clean. Look at me. I got nothing.”

And on the wall, hanging right above her couch is a picture of a younger, smiling version of her with her father. The two are looking at the camera together. She doesn’t look bloated. She doesn’t look pained. But this would have been years after her addictions started. Maybe it was when she was sober, when someone helped her get into rehab for the first time. Maybe it was when she was hiding all of this from him.

Shortly after I spotted that picture, we left.

Since Sunday night, I’ve been turning this whole event over in my mind. And as much as I want to forget about it, I cannot. This isn’t some episode in which nothing changes between last Sunday and next Sunday. Each day she uses and uses. Often, she spends entire days passed out in her chair – methadone in the morning, heroin in the mid-morning, pot in the afternoon, and painkillers in the evening. And cigarettes in between.

But we still watch.

So what do we do? This is much, much more than Tracy or myself can handle. This is a person that the world no longer wants to care for. She lives in Beaverdale.

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Dear Friends,

This whole project has come so far since I first started posting notes about progress on the book. So I thought it’d be a good time to quickly recap what From a Growing Community, Iowa’s Homeless Youth is attempting to accomplish in our community. 

This book will present nine stories from homeless youth in our home community. The youth come from Des Moines, Cedar Rapids, Davenport, and Marshalltown – as well as an assortment of small towns they passed through on their way to the shelters. The book will also present information about Iowa Homeless Youth Centers and Youth & Shelter Services, a non-profit organization in Ames and Des Moines providing shelter, rehabilitation, and transitional services for youth. 

By presenting information about these youth and the services provided, we hope our larger community will have an increased awareness of what is happening to assist these youth day in and day out. Through this awareness, your increased support will also be encouraged. 

As a community, we need to talk about how we can better support the social workers and shelter coordinators who work with these youth. And, those of us who can, need to be the answers to those ideas – to be the hands that feed, the ears that listen, and the eyes that see who needs help. Through our action, we will make a powerful claim to not only what is happening in our immediate communities but throughout our state. This development will not go unnoticed by those surrounding us.

And this will come. We just need to get together and make it happen.

The book is published through Shrieking Tree Manufactory, a small, Des Moines-based social entrepreneurship, run by Justin Norman (www.shriekingtree.com). The printing was done by Wilcox Printing & Publishing, Madrid, Iowa. Each book purchased, then, is supporting local business.

Each book purchased is also a donation made to Iowa Homeless Youth Centers and Youth & Shelter Services. If we are able to sell 10,000 books, Shrieking Tree Manufacturing will be able to donate $100,00 back to these shelters for educational purposes. And it’s all because of your support. (And I think we can do better than that.)

You can order the book here: www.shriekingtree.com/growingcommunity. And you can pick it up for the first time at Mars Cafe on June 12th at 7:00pm. (If you’re not able to make it to the release, let us know and we’ll mail it out for you!)

Also, if you’re interested in inviting me to speak at any sort of gathering, whether a small group, bible study, peace group, men’s group, women’s group, pizza party…, book study, I’d love to come share what I’ve been up to. Please, don’t hesitate to get ahold of me: danny@shriekingtree.com.

We are looking forward to celebrating the completion of this book and to witness the direct effect we will make on our shelter system. 

Until the 12th,
Danny Heggen

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