Living the Significant Life (20 page)

Chris Denning sat in his regular booth in the Eastside Diner, sipping his third cup of coffee and reading the morning newspaper. Since retiring four months ago, he’d gotten into the habit of having breakfast there a few mornings each week. It was a good excuse to get out of the house, and often he would run into a friend or two from the neighborhood, guys who had also retired and had plenty of time on their hands.

This wasn’t how Chris had envisioned his so-called golden years, an expression that never failed to annoy him. He and his wife, Lynn, had planned to buy a recreational vehicle and travel around the country, sometimes taking along a grandchild or two during the summer, but those plans evaporated when Lynn had suddenly died of a heart attack. Chris had continued to work for almost two years, but his passion for practicing law seemed to have died along with Lynn, and he decided to leave it to the younger attorneys. After all, he’d had a career of more than forty years, and he’d built one of the area’s most prestigious law firms from the ground up. It was time to call it quits and take it easy.

Overall, he liked being retired. He got a bit lonely sometimes, but he enjoyed having time to read, fish, and volunteer at his church. His son, Kyle, and his family lived nearby. Chris had dinner with them every couple of weeks, and he had become a regular fixture in the bleachers at his grandchildren’s ball games. He’d invested well, so money wasn’t an issue.

He was folding his newspaper and getting ready to leave when Donna, one of the waitresses, approached his table. “Can I get you another cup of coffee, Mr. Denning?” she asked.

“No thanks, I think I’ve had my limit for today,” he replied. “I’m going to head home and do a little work in the garden.”

“Okay, then, have a good day.” Donna started to leave, then turned back and asked hesitantly, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“You’re a lawyer, right?”

“Well, I used to be. I’m retired now. Do you have a legal problem?”

“Not me. Jorge, a guy who works back in the kitchen.”

“Okay, why don’t you sit down and tell me about it?”

Donna sat down across from Chris and began. “His life is just falling apart. He used to work at that tire factory on Route 12, but of course he lost his job when it closed down a few months ago. The only job he’s been able to find is here, but they can only use him a few hours a week, and he makes next to nothing. Now he’s been evicted from his apartment, which really stinks. I mean, I get that you have to pay rent, but it doesn’t seem fair to just put someone out on the street, especially when they have a child.”

“Oh, he has a family?” Chris asked.

“Just a six-year-old son. He’s a single dad. I’m not sure what the situation is with Joshua’s mother, but I know she doesn’t live around here. She might have even moved back to Guatemala. That’s where they’re from.”

“Is Jorge here legally?” Chris asked carefully.

“Oh yeah, but he doesn’t know for how long. He’s afraid that without a job or a home, he’ll lose his son and maybe even be deported. Apparently something similar happened to a guy he knows, and now he’s terrified.”

“Where is he living now?”

Donna hesitated, then leaned forward and whispered, “In his car. With a child. Can you imagine?”

“Wow, that’s really rough,” Chris said.

“Anyway, I was wondering if you could talk to him. I know it’s a lot to ask, and of course he wouldn’t be able to pay you, but I think he needs to know what his legal options are, and you’re the only lawyer I know.” When Chris didn’t respond immediately, she added, “He speaks good English,” as though she hoped that would seal the deal.

“I’d be happy to talk to him, Donna, but I don’t know how much I can help. I was a corporate attorney. I’ve never dealt with immigration law, but I’d be happy to talk with him. Can he meet me here at the coffee shop? Tomorrow morning, maybe?”

“That would be great. I don’t think he’s working tomorrow, so he should be free to stop by after he drops Josh off at school at 8:30. You’re usually here around that time, anyway. Thank you so much, Mr. Denning. Jorge is such a nice guy, and he really doesn’t deserve this.”

“Not a problem. I’ll see you and Jorge tomorrow,” Chris said. As he headed home, he told himself that he really needed to be more grateful for his own good fortune.

The next morning, just as Chris was polishing off the last of his scrambled eggs, Donna appeared at his booth with a shy-looking young man. Jorge, who appeared to be in his late twenties, shook Chris’s hand and sat down.

“Donna tells me you’re having a rough time. I’m sorry to hear that,” Chris began.

“Yes sir, things have gone badly for me since I lost my job, and they just keep getting worse,” Jorge said.

“I explained to Donna that although I’m an attorney, your situation isn’t within my area of specialty,” Chris warned. “Why don’t you tell me everything that’s going on, and maybe I can help you figure out where to go from here, but I’m thinking we may need to find someone with more experience in immigration law.”

“I understand,” Jorge said. “I appreciate you taking time to talk to me.”

Chris listened carefully as Jorge began to recount his litany of problems. He had been in the United States on a work visa for nearly ten years, but his visa was due for renewal soon, and he was concerned that it wouldn’t be extended if he didn’t have a job. His only income was from the diner, but the owner only needed him for a few hours a week, so Jorge barely made enough money to feed himself and his son. There was nothing at all left over for housing. They’d been sleeping in Jorge’s car for the past few nights, but clearly that was not a permanent solution.

“Have you tried one of the shelters?” Chris asked. “Obviously that’s not ideal, but it would be better than living in your car.”

Jorge leaned forward and spoke emphatically. “Yes! I went there right away, but they said we didn’t qualify.”

“How could you not qualify? You’re homeless.”

“The woman told me that the shelters are too crowded, so they can’t take everyone who comes in. If you have family, they think you can stay with them, so they say you don’t qualify.”

“You have family in the area?”

“No! That’s the problem. I have family back in Guatemala. The woman at the shelter said that as long as Joshua and I have family there, we have a place to live and can’t stay at the shelter.”

“But you’ve lived here for nearly ten years, and if your son was born here, he’s a U.S. citizen.”

“I know, that’s what I said, but she said that’s their policy.”

As they continued to talk, more issues arose. Jorge was afraid that Joshua would be taken away from him if anyone found out they were homeless. He was afraid Josh wouldn’t be able to attend his school anymore if it was discovered that they no longer lived in the right district. Jorge was afraid he’d be arrested for vagrancy if the police discovered him sleeping in his car. He was afraid he’d be deported, and then what would happen to his son? He was, very simply, afraid.

Before leaving the restaurant, Chris gave Jorge his phone number and told him to contact him if anything came up. “Give me a couple of days to make some calls and get up to speed on situations like this,” he said. “I’ll leave a message for you here as soon as I have some information.”

Driving home, Chris turned the situation over in his mind. He knew the attorneys at Legal Aid were already overworked, so he thought he’d find an immigration lawyer who would agree to take Jorge’s case without charging a fee, as a favor to Chris, and let that attorney take it from there.

But in the back of his mind, Chris had begun to realize that Jorge’s situation wasn’t just an immigration problem. His legal status was just one component of a much larger issue. There were thousands of people in Jorge’s situation: unemployed or underemployed, homeless, many with children, and nowhere to turn. Many of them, perhaps most of them, were U.S. citizens. With the exception of the immigration issues, they faced the same hurdles Jorge was experiencing. How many other Jorges were out there? And who was helping them, or were they simply falling through the cracks?

By the time he fell into bed that night, Chris was mentally exhausted. He’d quickly located an attorney who had agreed to help Jorge work out his visa situation, but Chris was unable to stop thinking about the myriad of other issues Jorge had mentioned. Rather than driving to a nearby stream for a little trout fishing, he’d found himself spending the day scouring the Internet, boning up on the legal hurdles faced by the homeless. There seemed to be no shortage of them.

During the next few weeks, Chris continued to forgo his usual pursuits in favor of learning more about the city’s homeless population. He met with Legal Aid lawyers, the directors of shelters and soup kitchens, government officials, and church leaders who had programs to address those issues. He talked with dozens of people who lived at the shelters and ate at the soup kitchens, taking careful notes about the problems they faced each day, many of which he’d never even considered.

He learned that when people lost their homes, their possessions fell away, disappeared, or got lost, sometimes including important documents like their birth certificates and Social Security cards. Without those, it was difficult to get a job, but often people didn’t know how to go about replacing them. As a result of the economic downturns, many people were shocked to find themselves homeless for the first time, and they knew nothing about applying for government benefit programs. They had never thought they’d need those things. Child support and custody issues, criminal charges, eviction, employment problems—the list seemed endless.

Chris had always been a man who liked a challenge. Law school had been challenging, but he’d graduated near the top of his class and moved on to tackle the challenges of starting his practice and becoming good at his job. Then he began to expand his firm, bringing in new associates and working to build its reputation. He had become active in his local and state bar associations, eventually serving as president of each. Along the way he had eagerly taken on the challenges of becoming a husband and a father. Things leveled out a bit in the last few years of his practice, but he had never failed to enjoy the challenge of a new case.

Retirement had been different. He liked many things about his leisure pursuits, but he began to realize that he missed the mental stimulation he’d always gotten from work. Now his biggest challenges consisted of what to make for dinner and what to do about an investment when it stopped performing well.

Since his initial meeting with Jorge, Chris had felt challenged again, and it felt good. This was an entire field of law he’d never even considered, and he was fascinated with it. From the minute he woke up in the morning, his mind was racing with new ideas and possibilities. There were a lot of people out there who needed help. Maybe he was the guy who could provide it.

Six months later, Donna approached Chris’s booth in the diner, coffee pot in hand. “Another cup, Mr. Denning?”

“No thanks, I’ve got to get moving. Busy day.”

“I can’t believe you went back to work. Who’s going to catch all the fish now?”

“Oh, I still have time for that, but somebody’s got to mind the store. I’ve got two other retired lawyers working with me now, plus a paralegal and a few law students who help out. We’re already doing regular free clinics at two shelters, and tomorrow I’m meeting with the director of the soup kitchen on Shelby Street to talk about setting up shop there for a few hours a week. There’s plenty to do.”

“I never thought asking you to talk to Jorge would lead to all that, but look at you, saving the world,” Donna said.

Chris laughed as he stepped out of the booth and picked up his briefcase. “I’m working on it.”