When it's time for intervention...

So, today had its little adventure.

M, a friend from a local church, had met someone who was recently evicted from an apartment and was living homeless. In an effort to help M let the person stay with him for a night or two. During the stay M spoke with some representatives of a local non-profit engaged in homeless affairs and they staged a sort of intervention to convince the person of the need to get help. In fact, the person had something of a realization and asked to go to rehab/detox. M felt a little strange about the whole intervention-style event and was visibly shaken by it. When I saw him yesterday, he said that the person had just asked that he go by the locked apartment (with landlord's help) and pick up a few personal belongings to put in storage until the detox program ended. Certainly. As there might be furniture, etc. I volunteered my services as needed. Turns out the house is just a couple of blocks from my own.

I arrived by bike this morning at the duplex a few moments before M and some other help. The front door and screen door had been screwed shut. Just before M arrived, a truck with three Mexicans arrived. The leader, a diminutive and energetic soul name Ulisias, asked me if I knew how bad it was. I said no.

He then proceeded to pass out masks and latex gloves.

As he unscrewed the front doors, I scrutinized the foul buildup on and proceeding from the bottom of the door. Ulisias pushed the door open 5 inches.

That's as far as it could be pushed open. Trash was piled and packed too tightly behind it for it to be opened any further. Hmmm... It smelled of stale cigarettes and beer among other things. There was a healthy population of flies. All one could see through the door was an ashtray and a continuous heap of beer cans and trash bags stacked three feet high. Hmmm... How did she get in and out? "A window," Ulisias offered questioningly.

I walked around back. As I walked, Ulisias chimed in, "If you guys will clean it all out, I'll buy you a coke and lunch at a Mexican restaurant."

Ulisias the comedian.

The back door was also screwed shut, so I called the guys around to open it. This one opened, maybe 2/3 of the full swing. You could see the front door from the opened back door, over the continuous pile of rubbish. The floor was only visible for the foot or two that allowed the back door to open. EVERYTHING else was under a heap of rubbish. There pile was nowhere shallow enough even to infer that it did not also cover furniture. Whatever lay beneath was pure mystery. Thousands of Busch beer cans and twelve-pack boxes. I could just see the top of the stove peaking through the rubbish over on one wall. Spider webs hung from the ceiling. No one was willing to venture over the pile to locate any belongings.

Then Ulisias dropped the bomb, "Yeah, [the person] has been living here for over 10 years."

I doubt M feels uncomfortable about the intervention now. In fact, everyone present was vocal about the relief they felt knowing that this person was actively getting help. Surely no one in this situation should ever live alone. And this was going on literally two blocks from my house.

The Mexican guys get the task of removing the filth from the property. They've reserved a dump truck, and hopefully a lot of antibiotics. Ulisias figures three dump truck loads will probably empty the apartment.

Wow.