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For one day, the homeless go cellular Mail Tribune / Jim Craven Starr, left, and Dennis catch up with some old friends on cell phones provided by U.S. Cellular Wednesday. This is the third year of the Medford company�s Homeless Outreach Phone Effort, or HOPE. Free calls at mission let them reconnect with loved ones By Bill Varble "Hey Charles," the man who�s on the phone to Downey, Calif., says in a booming voice. "It�s Dennis. ... Really good. ... I just wanted to wish you a happy Thanksgiving." Dennis and Charles talk about Thanksgivings past and present, old friends, somebody�s truck-driving job. Dennis says he�s on the street. It�s only been a few days this time. He�s taking care of business, looking for work, getting some dental care. He�s hopeful about finding work. Meanwhile, it�s not as if he has extra money. The cell phone he�s using is courtesy of U.S. Cellular. The company has brought a half-dozen wireless phones to the Medford Gospel Mission for a couple of hours. Homeless people can drop in and use the phones to call friends and relatives anywhere in the country, for free. The company calls the project the Homeless Outreach Phone Effort, or HOPE. It was launched in the Midwest in 1993. This is its third year in Medford. U.S. Cellular spokeswoman Linda Mounts says the idea is for the homeless to reach out and connect with loved ones. Dennis gives the idea two thumbs up. "It feels stupid standing in a phone booth with $5 in change," he says. "And if you�re using a booth, calling cards go really fast." Bill Gourley, the mission�s executive director, says he put the word out around town over the past week: "If you�ve got a phone number tucked away somewhere, bring it in." And bring it in they do. Mounts and three other company reps sit at a table and offer help with area codes and directory assistance as men wander in. A man named Starr, who says he�s a Marine Corps vet, is on the line to a Salvation Army major in Indianapolis talking about football, basketball and a book about Armageddon. "I made about 90 bucks," he says. "I might see how far that gets me." Starr is a drifter. He�s looking for work. He says he knows the only thing that�s ever got in his way has been his drinking. His parents are dead. There�s nobody he�d rather talk to than the major. "I�ll never forget you," he says. A man named David says he just talked for the first time in a long while with folks at a foundation in Austin, Texas, where he once wound up homeless after a car wreck. He talked to his friend Mrs. Rodriguez, a maintenance lady. "They love the homeless people," he says of the foundation. You can�t beat free phone calls, he adds. "They bring a lot of great joy." Larry, a big man wearing a ponytail and a leather jacket, agrees. "This is great," he says. He says he�s a Vietnam vet and lives in a field near Medford. Men come and go, 47 men in about an hour, not counting those who have numbers they can�t reach, numbers that are no longer good. "That�s a cool little phone," one says. Bob, a large man in a blue T-shirt, wants to know if his sister ever got those pictures he sent some time back. "She was surprised," Bob says later. He was surprised, too. The last time Bob talked to his nephew, the little guy was 4 years old. Now 22, he�s getting married in a few days. Reach reporter Bill Varble at 776-4478 or e-mail [email protected] Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2000 Mail Tribune, Inc.