The tattoo on her neck is a sequence of horizontal slashes with the words subjoined, "cut here"
Robbi manages the Berkeley Community Resource Center, what we euphemistically call “The Shelter”, where Jadyne and I volunteer.
Yesterday “Reptile” came to Christ Church to use the bathroom. He was obviously in great pain. I asked him, “Do we need to call someone?” He didn’t answer, and after a minute or so walked away. Today, in not much better shape he asked for a doughnut. Limping out in the rain, his heels leaking out of his shoes, he took his bike and before walking down Cedar Street, came back to the van and laid two one dollar bills on the pickup bed. “Hey” I yelled, “Can’t you use this?” Reptile continued on down the street.
Reptile’s home on University Avenue at the corner of Shattuck and University in front of McDonalds.
We called him ‘Radio Man” because he often came to breakfast with a transistor radio attached to a band on his head. A couple of weeks ago he stabbed a guy in the stomach and fled. He was caught. Radio Man won’t be returning.
Chris is the exception. He doesn’t eat at the shelter; he doesn’t ask for groceries at the Berkeley Food Pantry. He and many of his friends whose RVs are parked along Sixth Street were booted out of the Berkeley Marina and have taken up residence in other parts of Berkeley. He’s the handyman in the neighborhood, fixing stuff for everyone else.
She's eating oatmeal with raisins, a hard-boiled egg, a doughnut from Happy Donuts, a Cutie, a piece of toast with margarine, and a cup of either black coffee or coffee with cream and sugar. She's one of 110 we fixed breakfast for at Dorothy Day Center In Berkeley this morning. Wearing yellow and pushing a cart of many colors she's a walking rainbow.
In Memory?