Homeless
I’m sorry I haven’t let anyone know this until now—it happened fairly quickly, but I honestly also simply didn’t know what to do or how to talk about it—but I have to report out that, as of today, Sonny is homeless.
I can’t of course go into specifics, but his living situation with his niece became so volatile that he decided his only option was to leave, during a pandemic, with a currently extra-heavy police presence in a community, West Hempstead, that is already known for racist, discriminatory policing.
Yesterday I picked up Bentley and drove her to stay with Maureen for as long as she needs to, and Sonny moved temporarily into his friend’s garage. Our reentry group is trying every avenue we can to find a place for him to stay, but with social distancing guidelines in place right now shelters are all running reduced capacity, and it’s no secret that there are already many more homeless people than shelter beds.
Those of you who’ve been with this from early on know this already, but Sonny is a good man, a retired Marine who came home devastated after serving in Beirut, a recovering addict with over 25 years clean and sober, a playwright and a poet with prostate cancer, and of course best friend and father to the wonderful cat Bentley.
I’m just saying here: I don’t know what else to do. The fact that Sonny is not allowed the space to survive in this pandemic and police occupation of our city is shameful. We should all be ashamed.
If anyone has any ideas I haven’t thought of or connections I haven’t made, I’m open to them.
In love and solidarity,
John