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My friend and I each harbored bad news when we joined up at the Portland bus station for the start of our trip to Iceland to celebrate milestone birthdays. Mine was the looming country-wide workers’ strike, which would have us arriving ...
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In one day, I enter the world of a woman in the Czech Republic whose break-up with Goebbels purportedly led to the Holocaust; waiters/entertainers at a theme restaurant in Chongqing whose boss tells them he will make them rich . . .
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More than 30 men, women and children slept out in a Camden park on one of the nastiest nights of the year—and woke up better for the experience. “It was cold, wet, windy and loud, but we had a tent and sleeping bag,” said Karen Pier. . . .
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“A smile and a heart,” said a woman shopper about what comes with the free clothes, food and household items provided for the 300 or so homeless people in our area who are clients of the Knox County Homeless Coalition. . . .
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I leave Marrakesh a day early because I am tired of the shops with no marked prices, taxis with no meters, and men who lead you to a faraway shop with genuine Moroccan leather and then as you are walking out with an ottoman . . .
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“I wouldn’t do that. Too high risk.” This from a woman who films in war zones, at the Thessaloniki documentary film festival when I said I was joining the women’s march in Istanbul for International Women’s Day on March 8. . . .
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Jordan was 22 when she got some good news in the mail. “Jett’s dad and I got a ticket in the mail that said we won a prize,” she says. “We had to go to [a local car dealership] to get it. We brought the ticket in, [the prize was a few dollars] . . .
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I work at the Knox County Homeless Coalition (KCHC) three days a week and have some cleaning jobs to fill in. I have a car and I have been in the same apartment for two years now. Three years ago I was homeless. I had no job, no vehicle . . .
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“It would be jail or death” is what I’ve heard from many local recovering drug addicts about their decision to get clean. Well, it was jail for Melody, who talked with me at the Knox County Jail while awaiting transfer to a state prison to serve . . .
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Braydin is homeless. But thanks to the Knox County Homeless Coalition, he has a roof over his head, food on the table, and lots of carefree fun while his mother works diligently with the family’s caseworker to get in, and stay in, a place of their own.
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Date of Sobriety: December 26, 2016 — I know looking at me from the outside I’m not your typical addict. That’s the scary thing about this disease. You never know who’s struggling.
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In my late 20s I started having really severe headaches. My family doctor gave me Vicodin. First and foremost the Vicodin took the headaches away when nothing else could, but it also made me happy and gave me . . .
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Date of Sobriety: August 20, 2015 — Dylan, 26, from Rockport, says in coming forward with his story, “If I can help one person, it will be worth it.”
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Getting beyond the stereotype, through the people in our community who are in an epic struggle to, as Derek, 27, says, “regain their humanity” . . .
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Getting beyond the stereotypes of drug addicts, through the people in our community who are in an epic struggle to, as one subject told me, regain their humanity. Janessa, 27, has stepped up bravely and selflessly to share her journey. . . .
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“They call it a double-wide but walk around and there is nothing double-wide about it. It’s a beautiful house,” Rob says, as he and Cindy lead a visitor through the mud, past the yellow construction tape, and up the temporary . . .
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Seven-month-old Isabella will be celebrating her first Christmas at the Hospitality House homeless shelter. “When she was born she was so cute and cuddly,” says Stephanie Fowles, the shelter’s team leader. “Now she is starting . . ."
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On October 30 in Trento my calligraphy teacher walks into the breakfast room frowning at her iPhone: Her husband has texted that their apartment building in Bologna is swaying. At the front desk the hotel clerks’ usually placid . . .
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Through the windows of a trattoria in Bologna, taking my morning walk to the swimming pool, I see two ladies bent over a table, one rolling out dough — just like Jacquimo showed me in Savigno — and the other squeezing a pastry . . .
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Italy! Two and a half months, alone, with no plans beyond the first week, and no phone. Just divorced after 29 years, I longed to lose myself in a place where I was, to paraphrase Leonard Cohen, “nobody’s ex-wife” . . .
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