Document text
Just another day Photos by Jim Craven Sherry Knowlton, left, Greg Raymer and Frank Eyler are some of Medford's homeless. Other than a stop for free turkey dinner at the Salvation Army, they spent the day like they do all others -- searching for cans so they can buy beer. Medford's homeless don't do a lot of celebrating on Thanksgiving BY BILL VARBLE A cop was parked near where Greg Raymer, Frank Eyler and Sherry Knowlton woke up Thanksgiving morning, so they had to lay low. It was raining, and it seemed to take forever until the patrol car drove off and they had their wakeup -- a beer they'd stashed the night before. That was the low point of the day. This is a high point -- sitting on a dry bench lighting up homemade cigarettes after a free turkey dinner at the Salvation Army's shelter on Crews Road in Medford. "Write that people are homeless," says Raymer, 49, drawing on his smoke. Some people still don't believe the homeless are out there, he says, just don't see them. They are invisible people. But they are visible today because the streets are empty because everybody has gone off to family dinners and friends and football games and too much pie. The invisible ones are people like Craig, a soft-spoken man pushing a shopping cart down Main Street at 11 a.m. He says he's not from anywhere, really. He spends his time traveling with the carnival. Now he says he's looking for work. The invisible ones are people like Mark and Gail, collecting cans in the old Kmart parking lot at noon with the McDonald's there weirdly empty. Mark and Gail say they've lived in a tent for years. The Salvation Army is too far to walk, but they've heard there's a meal at the Lighthouse near downtown Medford. Mark says he was born Thanksgiving day. His birthday was Monday. He got a drink and sat under a bridge and watched the creek. His long red hair is starting to go gray. He's 37. And the invisible ones are people like Raymer, Eyler and Knowlton. When they broke camp this morning they hid their bedrolls, put a few important things in a day pack and headed out to do some canning, just like any other day. They picked up some bottles at a return machine and used the deposit money to buy rolling tobacco and malt liquor. That's the point in the day they would usually head for the Target parking lot with a hand-lettered cardboard sign: Homeless Couple Vet Needs Work But today is Thanksgiving, and Target is closed. Almost everything is closed. So Raymer, Eyler and Knowlton ate turkey as two young men strummed guitars and sang near a sign saying, "Thank you donors and volunteers and thank you God." The Salvation Army's Steve Bright says the shelter planned to feed 17 turkeys to some 200 or more hungry people today with the help of 50 volunteers. On a bench near Crater Lake Avenue, full of turkey dinner, Knowlton, 43, says, "First we eat, then we drink." Blind since birth in her right eye, she has her right leg pegged together from an accident last year. She says a truck hit her when she veered in front of it on a bike, drunk. Raymer pushed her around town in a wheelchair for months. "It was my fault," she says. It's hard to be thankful sometimes. "The cops hassle us every day," says Raymer, 49. "Every day," Knowlton says. Eyler, 56, says he's been busted dozens of times on minor drug and alcohol charges. He used to work as a carpenter, long ago. Raymer says when they get busted, they spend a night in jail, which means a warm place to sleep and a shower. Both Raymer and Eyler say they're Vietnam combat vets. They don't talk about it much. Both have been homeless for many years. "When you're on the streets you can't get a job," Knowlton says. "You don't have an address. You don't have a phone. You don't look clean." The three say they won't stay in homeless shelters. They don't panhandle. "I can't walk up to somebody and beg," Raymer says. They have some gripes against the Salvation Army (only one meal a year for the homeless, they say) and against St. Vincent dePaul (where they claim some items are reserved for paying customers instead of given to the needy). The world isn't like what they see on TV and in the papers. But the turkey was excellent. It's time to grab some beer and see what the evening brings. "Can't tell you exactly because we don't have a schedule," Raymer says. "No schedule," Knowlton says. "This is no special day." "Just a day." "They're all the same." After a moment's reflection, Eyler says, "My birthday is special." But Raymer isn't buying. "What do you do?" he demands. "Canning and drinking," Eyler says. "Then it ain't special," Raymer says. "It's just another day." "Just another day." Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1998, Medford, Oregon USA