by Cindy Neilbock
When I first came here little did I know what to expect. I never realized I could become
homeless. After my mother died and I no longer had a place to live, I came here because my adopted son lives here. But things didn’t work out as I’d hoped, and I ended up homeless. Even though having my son here helped me adjust, the first 2 1/2 weeks were the pits. Then I met the most wonderful bunch of guys who I named the Wolf Pack. Nine of them. They hung together and slept at the same shelter together. But most of all they had each other’s back. This is where I earned the title Ma or Mom. See, most of them had moms they couldn’t see. Moms that passed away. So I became Mom. Now in the meantime I met someone who I thought was perfect for me. But I will talk about that at a later date.
Over time my happy little family grew. Every time I turned around someone else was calling me Ma. See, I accepted all races, creeds, colors into this family. I wasn’t prejudiced. As Mom I solved problems. Talked to them when they needed to talk. Spent time with them on a one
to one basis, even if for only a few minutes. Let me explain. When I say my son or daughter I am talking about my street family, all the people who call me mom. I actually feel like
I’m a great big bird and I’m in their radar and I keep getting hit. Now through all this I keep a level head about the things I’m dealing with on a daily basis. One incident that comes to mind was when I could not find my youngest street son, who was 18. When he got here he thought he could do anything and didn’t know the dangers out there.
His older (street) brother was supposed to watch him but lost track of him. Talk about scared. I walked to 16th Street Mall and sat there looking up and down. Walked back to St Francis and another street son asked for his description and used his street connections to fin d him in
less than five minutes. When I saw him relief took over and I cried like a baby. I wanted to kill him! but I was relieved. There is more to this story as you know. So for each issue I will write and tell you a little more about the first year.
homeless. After my mother died and I no longer had a place to live, I came here because my adopted son lives here. But things didn’t work out as I’d hoped, and I ended up homeless. Even though having my son here helped me adjust, the first 2 1/2 weeks were the pits. Then I met the most wonderful bunch of guys who I named the Wolf Pack. Nine of them. They hung together and slept at the same shelter together. But most of all they had each other’s back. This is where I earned the title Ma or Mom. See, most of them had moms they couldn’t see. Moms that passed away. So I became Mom. Now in the meantime I met someone who I thought was perfect for me. But I will talk about that at a later date.
Over time my happy little family grew. Every time I turned around someone else was calling me Ma. See, I accepted all races, creeds, colors into this family. I wasn’t prejudiced. As Mom I solved problems. Talked to them when they needed to talk. Spent time with them on a one
to one basis, even if for only a few minutes. Let me explain. When I say my son or daughter I am talking about my street family, all the people who call me mom. I actually feel like
I’m a great big bird and I’m in their radar and I keep getting hit. Now through all this I keep a level head about the things I’m dealing with on a daily basis. One incident that comes to mind was when I could not find my youngest street son, who was 18. When he got here he thought he could do anything and didn’t know the dangers out there.
His older (street) brother was supposed to watch him but lost track of him. Talk about scared. I walked to 16th Street Mall and sat there looking up and down. Walked back to St Francis and another street son asked for his description and used his street connections to fin d him in
less than five minutes. When I saw him relief took over and I cried like a baby. I wanted to kill him! but I was relieved. There is more to this story as you know. So for each issue I will write and tell you a little more about the first year.
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