12 GROUNDCOVER NEWS FROM THE ARCHIVE AUGUST 22, 2025 Schooled about being homeless at Groundcover KEAGEN IRRER Groundcover contributor I’ve never had to worry about where my next meal was coming from, or where I was going to sleep tomorrow night. I’ve always been well taken care of throughout my life, with a healthy, stable home environment and a free college education. But when I started working with Groundcover, I was suddenly surrounded by people who had none of these things. I heard stories about living under bridges, about being trapped outside in the rain, and being unable to sleep because of being swarmed by mosquitoes. People told me such things casually, as though they were completely normal and an expected part of life — and for them, they were. But for me, they were beyond imagining. I began to feel sheltered, guilty about my privileged status. For these people, just taking care of their basic needs required tremendous effort on their part, while for me it was virtually effortless. The physical and psychological toll was clearly immense; I saw firsthand the way homelessness conspired to break people’s minds, bodies and souls. I wanted to help them in any way I could. But I quickly learned that the first rule of helping the homeless is that you can only do so much. You can train them, give them a stack of papers, and tell them to go out and sell as many as they can, but it’s on them to actually do it, and to spend their income wisely. You can only help them to help themselves: a hand up, not a handout. I also learned how little difference there really was between myself and homeless people. After all, that guy on the corner begging for something to eat is a person too, but maybe he doesn’t have access to a shower and hasn’t been able to afford new clothes in a while. I learned that being born into the right family can matter a lot, or how you can be horribly punished for one or two bad decisions. Maybe you were unlucky enough to get a mental illness and now nobody will employ you because of it. Poor choices are a big factor in homelessness, but so is luck. One of the most difficult and disturbing things I learned was how much our society tries to sweep homelessness under the rug. We try to hide it away, make laws against panhandling and spending the night on the streets; we put homeless people in jail, or in the hospital, or in a temporary shelter. As long as we can’t see the problem, it’s not really there – out of sight, out of mind. But it is there, no matter how hard we try to hide it, and it’s an expensive problem. The chronically homeless people of the United States cost some $11 billion a year in public funds. According to one estimate, the cost to society per homeless individual is $41,000 a year. Jails, hospitals and outreach programs all cost a lot of money. Groundcover isn’t a perfect solution to the titanic problem of homelessness. It’s not going to clean up the streets of Ann Arbor, but it can help. It provides guaranteed employment to those who want it and are willing to abide by a basic code of conduct, and a community of sorts that homeless people can rally around. One of the best things about it that I’ve seen is the sense of pride, accomplishment and purpose that it gives to the people it employs, both vendors and volunteers. It’s a great stepping stone for A thank you to Vendor No. 322 PAOLO POQUIZ U-M student contributor When I wrapped up our interview, you mentioned something about how I didn’t say too much about myself, and that all that talking about yourself was making your voice tired. My apologies, I’m not perceptive like you are, but if you’re interested I’d like to say a bit about what I thought of our conversation, why I thought it was so fulfilling to spend the day with you beyond just asking some questions for an assignment, and what it all meant for me. The day I woke up and came to the Groundcover office to try to interview some people was one of those days where I couldn’t get out of bed in the mornings, one of those mornings that whatever hazy cloud that followed my head around decided to get heavy and press me firmly into place. I kind of forgot to tell you, but I recently found I have ADHD, as well. The psychs put me on a new cocktail of meds; you noticed I came into the building all scatterbrained and shaky. I didn’t have a solid plan for what I wanted or needed to do, just a silly question of “What’s your favorite music?” and the hope that I’d stumble into something I could write an article about. It was a great, miraculous accident that I ended up spending my day talking to you. I guess I would’ve felt silly and unprepared on or off the pills anyway, it was an awkward situation. I do think so far I like the meds though. Whatever’s happening in my brain right now, it feels a little calmer, like something in there is trying to help me out. I’m not used to that. I have to say it means a lot to me, that when I talked to you, you picked up on the crud and clutter that I was feeling at the moment when you were selling papers and saw when the blues I work so hard to paint over somehow peek through. Not a lot of people do that. And it means so much more that throughout our talk you tried to help me out and make me smile more. It feels like nobody does that, everyone’s too caught up in their problems, and I wouldn’t blame them. I fear I do that too. Doing a simple good like that comes from special people only, it seems. So few people can produce hope that goes strongly even through the darkest and worst of things, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re one of the greats. “Wear your heart on your sleeve.” I like that phrase, and I think you embody it. You said you’re worried about talking too much and driving someone away, but I think it’s amazing that you do it regardless. I think we would all do a little better if we were just a little more honest and up-front about our concerns, sorrows and complaints. Growing up I was taught to never show any sadness or pain because it made me weak, it made me a victim. Fear was okay though; that made me nice and obedient. I think that was the hesitancy in my voice you picked up on. If I ever tried to speak what’s on my mind, what I wanted or what I feared, things went wrong. I’ve spent my whole life being told things see VENDOR 322 next page numerous homeless folks who want to improve their lives. My time at Groundcover has been instructive and rewarding. It’s difficult to see the problem of homelessness up close and firsthand, but we can’t hope to solve this problem unless we confront it, head-on, like Groundcover does. Originally published in the May 2013 edition of Groundcover News.
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