A thought entered my mind on the bus (or maybe my ear) is my activity on Instagram Professional ruining my witness for Christ? My activity is connected to the blog. And I asked myself, is my behavior toward the small amount of women I am following disparaging? But then as I rolled through Allentown on the bus, a second thought entered my mind. I’m staying in Wescosville, but my alias is The Center City Christian (my blog has always been anonymous). And I began to reminisce about Allentown Part II (2013-2023).
My first dose of the streets (and Christianity) is when my lifestyle that I could no longer afford—I had been a long time member of my father’s entourage—forced me into homelessness. I was stranded out in Montana after a losing bout in Brooklyn, and decided to travel across the country by Greyhound to be homeless. Essentially, I came home (Allentown Part I [2003-2012]). The trip took 5 days and was chock full of delays. When I arrived at the Allentown Rescue Mission, which was conveniently right across the street from the bus station, the Rescue Mission warned me that I would not be taken in if I was coming down from heroin (I was exhausted).
I was an intake at the Gateway Center, which was a temporary shelter—10 days. I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior because I was fretful over not being able to pay my credit card bills. I was a heavy smoker and could not last without a cigarette through a nondenominational service. I would walk out and feel the level of disrespect in my bones, which was rare. I spoke to the Christian Living & Values Director about it, and he found no fault. But after I did it one more time, I demoted myself and went back down to the Gateway Center. That was cause for dismissal. And now I was really homeless. I found a place to sleep under an overhang; part of the abandoned building next door, mainly because it was dark and I wouldn’t be seen by anyone. I also found a Battle Buddy named John (I trusted the name) who missed his intake. He sat next to me and stood guard the entire night while I slept a few hours (I may have trusted John a little too much. I will never know). The next morning I had my interview with OVR (Occupational Rehabilitation Therapy) and my caseworker couldn’t keep from letting me know that I wreaked like cigarettes, though he tried. I knew that the Dunkin’ Donuts had unsecured Wi-Fi and another bodega in American Plaza sold Jamaican beef patties and iced honey buns for $0.50.
I learned where I could do laundry without money. There was a church on Sixth Street that would let me wipe down the chairs with a Clorox wipe while my laundry was being washed and dried in the basement of the church. I learned the endless stops, routes of LANta bus at the different transportation centers. A missed pleasure—sitting in the second row of seats in the back left, staring out the window, with my favorite music—like time would stand still. Similar to the hum of the washers and dryers at a laundromat. I let people at the library use my laptop for a slice of pizza at the pizzeria on Hamilton St. I found Newport cigarettes on the street and was harassed by cops that Sunoco had called on me; for asking its customers for a lighter.
Then I called the HVHC representative at the VA who had me go to a shelter in Easton called Safe Harbor, so I could get a tuberculosis test in order to get into another shelter called Victory House in South Bethlehem. It took one week to get the results of the test and six months at Victory House to get an apartment in Northampton borough; which was a different type of streets—cement. I met my Pastors at Victory House and the East side Allentown location of their church and began my spiritual walk with Christ, first by accepting Jesus as my Lord and Savior, many, many times; over and over again (I did not feel I could be forgiven.). Then, I arrived early to set up the chairs when we were located at the Ramada Hotel, and when I had to turn down graduate school because I lost my tuition reimbursement with OVR, I became Media Director. And then I began The Center City Christian—which prepared me to live on the streets first in Los Angeles, then New York City, Washington DC, and Boston.

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