SUMMARY OF STATEMENT OF FACTS BY ELIZABETH GERRINGER REGARDING MARY ISAAK CENTER

Note to SG: I removed this article and will post it on another blog.

Nine Views of Homeless People From the Perspective of a Politician

1. There will soon be a convention in town so I need to try to find a way to hide the homeless people to protect my image.

2. The current homeless radical Bruce was a schoolmate of mine and got better grades than me so I need to try to keep him homeless because he knows as much about me as I know about him, and if he stays homeless, then he will have no credibility.

3. I promised to remove homelessness during my campaign, but if I do, there won't be an excuse for spending money for overhead because the landlords of the homeless people contributed to my campaign and they are more important and influential than homeless people.

4. If I train case managers to end homelessness, the food missions will not survive because most of their income is from donated food they sell.

5. There is a need for homelessness because some people like to compare themselves to the have-nots and l like to remind homeless people of the status of the rich.

6. There is no guarantee in the Constitution everyone should have a place to live.

7. I once helped a homeless person receive entitlements, and instead of expressing gratitude by make something of themselves, I got accused of being the cause of their problems. Why am I obligated to continue helping a person who tries to expose my intentions? Why am I obligated to be kind to a homeless person just because I once saved that person's life?

8. I can't turn back the premise some homeless people are fairly diagnosed because if I am in error, and some of them are treated unfairly, then this decision reflects on my husband's medical profession because I know he is responsible for that homeless person's husband's death.

9. I received several medals for my community work, and if I help the homeless people, they will receive the awards that belong to me.

Fifteen Views of Homeless People from the Perepective of Case Managers

1. Homeless people need to be around other people who are like they are because if they work, then they will be around smart people and realize we are just ripping them off and ripping off the system.

2. I was a violator and have been through programs with some of the homeless people so I will help them out if I can, otherwise, they might expose my past.

3. I know of recourses to help homeless people, but if I tell them and they find work and housing, they won't need me any more and I will be out of a job.

4. There are millions of dollars available to help the mentally ill, so I need to try to drive someone crazy.

5. If I help some of the homeless people who I know are well qualified, then they will be sitting in my chair.

6. I don't care about the homeless people, I just need a job.

7. One of the reasons I am a case manager is because I want to collect information since I know there is a market for that type of stuff.

8. I finished college and majored in social work because that is where the grants were, and now I have worked here two years so I have a reference to move on.

9. I collect enough money for my rent and the necessary expenses, and don't plan to let anyone rock the boat by trying to change the status quo by helping the homeless because I know it is just a game and I plan on trying to play the game.

10. There is so much political involvement in the shelters that I need to appease the politicians and look the other way when I see conflicts of interests, like special favors for those who collect signatures for various ballot initiatives.

11. I have been kicked around all of my life and now> is my chance to kick someone else around.

12. Some of the homeless people dress real snazzy and maybe I could find some fashionable clothes.

13. I have two year's experience as a case manager, and although I could have helped more people, at least I have a reference from the manager so I can get another job as a case manager.

14. When I first decided to become a case manager, I thought it would be like a doctor, that I could help heal people's wounds and locate work and housing for them, but I see people falling through the cracks who don't fit the mold of homeless outcasts and I am told by the shelter managers not to become involved.

15. I think I will quit my job as a case manager, move to another city and live in a homeless shelter while I study architecture because that is what I want to do.

The minister told me to do work I love and the money will follow.

The rabbi said I can learn to love what I ought to do, but he didn't tell me what he thought I ought to do.
The main key to success in life seems to be a happy balance between constructive solitude and persuasive social discourse.

Blue Lagoon

Soft wind, cool wind, from a blue lagoon.
Strong wind, friendly wind,
Sings a happy tune.
Wind brings ships home,
Sends them out again.
I see them from a mountaintop
Through misty pine trees.
Some of the ships contain beautiful stairways,
But not more beautiful than mine
To my blue lagoon.
The wind becomes a river,
Becomes a rock,
Becomes a hill.
I am in my blue lagoon,
Blue now, still.

Monk's Morning

The Monk decided to hide in his cave of gray.
He lived in a village and then went away.
He lost his fair love and lived in the hills.
Where he was awakened each morning
By spry whipporwills.
He stared at a far mountain and wished he was there.
Walking and talking with his maiden so fair.
She played a flute to lure him back.
One morning he decided to pack.
And walked several miles toward the tune.
Before he realized it was really a loon.
So he turned around back to his cave.
Yes, indeed, he was very brave

Mysterious Path

On a rainy day one morning in June,
I saw a path by a new moon.
As I strolled through my favorite garden,
Suddenly, someone saw me and said "Beg your pardon!"
He said "Where do you come from, and why are you here?
I ignored him for awhile, and then could see clear.
We was blind and afraid because he was lost,
Was in the gazebo away from the frost.
"Whose garden is this?"? I boldly inquired
'It is one I have often greatly admired.
He said to me quietly, "I was just passing through.
"I turned and walked on, the flowers seemed new.

Diamonds n the Sky

I was sad when I lost my ring,
And suddenly decided to sing
"Where are my diamonds, precious and real
Why doesn't someone know how I feel?"
I walked in a garden so new and fine,
If I was wearing my diamonds of which there were nine,
I might have missed the sunlight approaching so near
And would miss the songbirds and baby deer.
I glanced at the sparkling sun
And saw my diamonds, one by one.
I looked at my wrist, which was nearly bare,
And saw that my diamonds had returned there.
The sun was now hidden and birds were all quiet.
There was something strange,
I could not deny it.
As the doves flew away,
Before I could thank them,
I stood very still, heard a lovely anthem.

The Cave

It was autumn when I found the cave.
The door was partly obscured by tumbled boards and a wrecked auto, a '29 Buick, daisies and delphiniums growing around the crankshaft.
Whoever stopped there and for whatever reason apparently moved on and abandoned the iron horse that carried him from West Virginia.
I climbed into the auto through the rusty window, hurried back to my campgrounds for a flashlight, entered into the cave and walked about three feet.
There was no sound except my pounding heart. I cautioned forward and turned off the flashlight.
It was one o'clock in the afternoon.
Through spiders of light, I saw a marble table, thick and of good quality.
Up a stairway beside an outdoor grill that I was afraid might contain bones, I saw light at the top and three small doors, one partly open, one with creaky hinges, and one unmovable.
I pushed open the one with creaky hinges and waited.
No sound except the click of my flashlight.
Out jumped a bat at then then another.
Silence. Who would hear me if I screamed?
The light behind me dashed across grey stones as I stood on the stairway.
It had just rained yesterday and the sweet perfume of flowers welcomed me as I approached a new morning.
I wanted to seek further on and walked slowly down the stairs, saving the mysteries for tomorrow.

The Day of the Lone Survivor

The flowers are blooming in profusion, their blossoms a joy to behold, their aroma an essence of sheer delight. There is no one to enjoy their beauty or to appreciate this delicate fragrance. The two short streets of the mountain village are deserted and still.
A scrap of paper on a tattered billboard flutters awkwardly in the wind while an ancient battered sign creaks back and forth on rusty hinges. Blank windows reflect the muddy streets and the somber graveyard beyond.
During the night, an airliner had crashed on the craggy heights of the mountain. Most of the inhabitants of the town were engaged in the searach for survivors.
Neither the dark heavy rain-laden clouds nor the falling mist succeeded in lessening the determined ardor of the townfolk. Nothing could dissuade them from this mission of mercy. With the zeal of the dedicated and blind faith of the optimist, a procession had begun the trak up the high mountain. Regardless of the dismal occasion, a festive holiday spirit prevailed.
By mid-day, the rains gradually subsided, but seemed to the natives to be falling in torrents. While the trails at this low level were always in odd repair, the journey gradually became more difficult. The spirits of the group were still lively, but the spring was now removed from many steps, the light in the eyes no longer shone as brightly. The party was sprinkled over a great distance, with the strong and weak evenly divided.
A curious doe watched this strange procession from the sheltering branches of a giant fir, staring boldly and unnoticed at those strange two-legged creatures who walked with heads lowered and no apparent awareness of their surroundings. Her curiosity sated, the doe returned reluctantly to her bed beneath the trees and nuzzled the dozing fawn, the memory of passers-by already forgotten.
In Mid-afternnon, the level of the clouds enveloping the mountain was reached,the thick fog-like substance chilling the air. In this gloom, the procession appeared as ghostly patterns as they pressed onward and upward through the dense forest. The eerie silence preponderated everything, with shadowy forms of trees and boulders creating a feeling of unreality. The awesome silence accented the huffing for breath and the creak or clang or equipment shifted about on tortured backs. The loud silence became a cascading roar.
Rest stops were becoming frequent, each slightly longer in duration. At one of these intervals, the group suffered its first casualty, an old man expiring from a heart attack. Two boys were not missing and the holiday atmosphere faded.
The little party climbed on through the long afternoon. A woman suffered a abroken ankle. No other serious injuries occurred except small frustrating mishaps, as falls and spills became commonplace. The lone doctor on the trip was tired, wet and cold, weary from packing one member of the party after another, only to receive two more calls for every service rendered.
The group reached the timber line,scaling sheer walls of treacherous cliffs, baren earth and stone and patches of melted ice and snow. Through a concealed crevice, a member of the party fell to his death. There was no trace left of the festive holiday spirit that had previously prevailed.
When darkness descended on the mountain, it found the excursion on a small ledge, carefully measuring their way across a towering crag to the main peak. In the last glimmerof light, they could see the twisted wreckage of what had once been the most beautiful of those proud birds known as airliners, now resembling nothing but a city dump. Only the tailsection seemed intact.
Afraid to venture further in the darkness,the party chose to spend the night on the precarious ledge,thereby choosing the lesser of two evils - fright or cowardice. No firewood was available here and the party shivered and shook from the severe cold, huddling together like penguins trying to retain their body heat.
The rains ceased under a clearing sky,lightless stars twinkled coldly, and the moon was invisible. A flavorless supper was silently consumed in the cruel darkness.
The night seemed an eternity as the group shivered on the baren ledge. Comfort could be gained by memories of an open fire in a cozy parlor, but they each wondered if they would ever again experience such bliss.
The first light of dawn found all of the members of the party but one, still huddled on the ledge. There was no trace at all of the one missing until light filtering into the gorge beneath the ledge revealed a mangled body on the jagged rocks below.
The first beams of sunrise became visible, gleaming on the twisted wreckage of the demolished airliner. After a weary hour spent retreiving the body of the missing member,the group began groping their way over the remaining shelf of the ledge toward their goal.
When they reached the silver heaps of wreckage,all was quiet as a tomb. It seemed impossible that anything could have survived such an impact. Awaiting them was the unenviable task of identifying and burying the dead. No one looked forward to this gruesome task.
One of the stronger men climbed up to the tailsection of the plane,detected a slight movement and heard a voice croak, "Are you me daddy? Take me away from here, daddy. I don't like it here,. Please,daddy, take me away!"
The man struck a match and saw before him a grimy battered youth. almost as tall as himself. He quickly carried the youth out into the light to lay him beside the wreckage, after screaming for the doctor to "come a runnin, this 'uns alive!". While awaiting the doctor,he surveyed the youth he had discovered. Around the boy's neck was a tag stating, "In an emergency, contact the Fremont Home for the retarded or call a policeman for assistance."
After the retarded lad had been attended to, all the dead buried,and a careful doumentation made of all valuables and records, the party prepared for the long descent down the mountain.
The retarded youth was being carried by the tall man that had found him. He wove both arms tightly around the man's neck as if he would never let go. Now and then a shudder convulsed his gaunt body, then he would hug the man all the more tightly.
On the trip acros the ledge, a youngster in the party slipped, and a young woman rushed to his aid. While trying to pull him to safety, she was clutched so fiercely, both were plunged into the gorge, hundreds of feet below. The woman's husband of just a week, the young deputy sheriff, watch helplessly with horror and grief. He began climbing down the gorge to rescue them, falling several times, but each time surviving, continuing on until he reached the smashed lifeless bodies on the jagged rocks at the bottom.
Returning to the village, the group appeared to be a sad funeral procession bewildered, grieving and staggering under their heavy burden.
The accompanying bodies of those who died on the trip were laid out in the little grey church for the mourners to gaze upon in final observance, Almost everyone there had lost a loved one or a near and dear friend. The young deputy, sobbing heavily in his great sorrow, smiled fondly through his tears in farewell to his beautiful young bride.
Siomething caught the fancy of the retarded youth, causing him ro giggle, then burst forth into full laughter.
The grieving deputy searched for the cause of laughter in stunned disbelief, then in a rage. Upon learning the identify of the culprit, his rage increased. That such unbearable losses should be suffered for such as he! "No!" he shouted over the crowd. "No, it's too much! It's too much!"
Drawing his revolver, he emptied it into the still giggling youth. Only when the youngster lay still in a spreading pool of blood did the young officer realize the enormity of his act.
All the inhabitants of the town are now cloistered in their homes in mourning behind closed doors and drawn shades. Most are thinking of their trek on the mountain, of the casualties, and of the survivor they rescued, who did not survive after all.
The flowers are blooming in profusion, their blossoms a joy to behold, their aroma an essence of delight. There is no one to enjoy their beauty, or to appreciate this delicate fragrance. The two short streets of the mountain village are deserted and still.
A scrap of paper on a tattered billboard flutters awkwardly in the wind while an ancient batterd sign creaks back and forth on rusty higes. Blank windows reflect the muddy streets and the somber graveyard beyond.

Hello to a Friend I Have Not Yet Met

I'm feeling lonely and need someone to talk to.

I have places to go and somewhere to walk to.

But I need someone at home,

To just smile and bring me flowers

Someone to just sit silent with

And while away the hours.
Someone to bring me coffee in the morning

Someone kind who smells nice

And hands me presents without warning.

Someone who warns me when trouble is near.

And believes me and means it when he calls me dear.

Do you like me?

Well, do you intend to stay all night?

Did you travel far to be here?

Would you please leave on the light?

Do you have a mother, is she fat or thin?

Does she like to save pennies, buttons and thread?
Would you hold my hand in church,

Help me on with my coat,

Or give me yours instead?
Do you mind if I am famous?

Will you like me in the morning?

Would you hire me as a secretary.

Or fire me without warning?
Could I see you in the sunshine,

Would you mind if I don't smoke?

Could you please be serious sometimes?

I am tired of a joke.
Would you take me to the opera?

I would appreciate that very much.

I like music, hope to meet you.

I would like to get in touch.