Mike and his ukelele

Quietly sipping hot coffee and reveling in a fresh bear claw pastry, Mike waited his turn to get a hot shower courtesy of the portable shower unit parked behind St. Paul’s Church in Banker’s Hill. The 29-year-old Ohio native carries an umbrella to ward off the coming rain. He said it was a lot easier to deal with than the blizzards of snow he grew tired of in Ohio and then later in upstate New York. All of that was in sharp contrast to the heat he endured on his multiple tours in Iraq and Afghanistan while serving in the U.S. Army as a cook.

Mike joined the military at age 18, right out of high school. His father had died in a car accident when he was young. His mother died of stomach cancer when he was 16, leaving him and his brother Alan in the care of their oldest brother Ricky, who was six years older than Mike. Alan also joined the military when he was eligible, and became a U.S. Marine.

When his marriage started to go sour after three years, his disposition also affected his behavior in the Army and he left after five years with a less than honorable discharge. He wanted to get as far away from his crumbling situation as he could. That’s when he remembered visiting his brother during training in San Diego. San Diego was far away from New York, snow, his ex-wife and other reminders of what wasn’t working for him at the time.

So he hopped a train five years ago and headed west. At first he put his cooking skills to work, creating the community breakfast for people who showed up at God’s Extended Hand in the East Village. He was one of the paid staff and lived in a room upstairs. Everything was going well - until God’s Extended Hand closed down. Back on the street he faced the challenges of access to hygiene, like showers and affordable laundry facilities. “There’s a laundromat nearby but it costs $10 for a decent load of laundry,” he said. Food, on the other hand, is never a problem. “You’re an idiot if you can’t find food in San Diego,” he added. Mike has memorized all the places around town where one organization or another provides hot meals. He is particularly appreciative of the church group from Ramona that offers food every Thursday in the Presidio. “I never thought I would like split pea soup,” he said. “But they put all kinds of pork in there and it’s fantastic.”

He has made good money doing landscaping, and thought he had secured a regular part-time job doing that. Mike thanks his grandmother for teaching him about plants. She had a huge garden, he said, in order to save money on buying vegetables. “You either take care of plants or you don’t eat,” he said. His grandmother was a role model and caregiver in many ways. She outlived her husband and two sons. She met her husband in Korea where they were both Air Force medics stationed there during the war.

With the pandemic putting a stop to so many things, that job disappeared before it fully formed. He is not excited about working in a kitchen again. So he’s looking for another way to make money. But Mike said he doesn’t need rent money. He’s comfortable staying well hidden where he currently finds shelter unhoused. He doesn’t want any part of downtown San Diego even if it means housing. “There’s too much violence,” he said of the East Village.

He doesn’t smoke or do drugs, so he has no desire to be surrounded by people who do. After a moment of reflection, he shared that his oldest brother Ricky, the one who had taken care of him all those years ago, died eleven years ago from a heroin overdose - just after Mike joined the army. “That’s one of the reasons I avoid drugs now,” he said. “I see how quickly it can take you. I was at the library a few days ago and a woman OD-ed right outside.” Fortunately for that woman, someone had a dose of Narcan handy and she survived. He also has a friend who smoked a joint that had been laced with fentanyl without his knowing it. “He was just trying to smoke a little weed and almost died,” Mike said, shaking his head.

The Voices of Our City Choir has been a welcome opportunity to socialize, relax, and stretch his creative muscles. “People look out for each other” in the group, he said. Sitting on the steps of the church after his shower, Mike broke out the ukulele he bought at a pawn shop in Pacific Beach. He’s not sure how to tune it, but wants to learn to play. He played the electric bass in high school, but “obviously you need electricity and an amplifier for that,” he said. He also spends his time reading, especially what he calls Urban Sci-fi, a genre he describes as noir meets the supernatural. He just finished a series by author Rebecca Roanhorse inspired by Native American culture. Shouldering his backpack and his umbrella, Mike headed off to the library to look for a new book.