My Veterans

I first published this in 2007 and I added a "Word History" in 2012. I periodically rerun it, as it was a memorable experience in my life.

During my time in property management, I had lots of experiences and made many acquaintances, including a good number of American military veterans. Just like any group of people, there were some veterans who certainly were not model citizens, but overall, this group made an impression on me more than any other. Now, military veterans are everywhere in American society, but the specific group of veterans I’m going to emphasize here is a group composed of men who had problems with drugs and alcohol (it just so happens these were all men, but there could just have likely been women involved). They were part of a treatment program at our VA hospital in Cleveland (the then Brecksville unit) where the veterans had to actually live at the hospital facility where they received the treatment and the counseling for their addiction. To be quite honest, there were some rough and tough folks involved in this program, as many had been living out on the streets, but they had finally sought treatment; treatment that could last for many months or even for a year or two.

After the VA officials determined that a person had made sufficient progress, they would help them find work, and then housing. I want to emphasize, this was NOT some government give away program, nor did the VA coddle any of these guys. It was tough, and I can tell you the TREMENDOUS RESPECT I have for the VA counselors who worked in this program. At first I was a bit taken back by how tough talking the counselors really were in dealing with the veterans who first entered the program, or especially with those who went back to their addictions and had to re-enter the program, but it’s a tough world, and the counselors were only dealing with the harsh realities of folks trapped in their own addictions. Once a veteran was committed to trying to straighten out his life, the counselors relaxed the tough talk. I can testify how much these veterans respected the counselors as they moved through the program.

The VA tried a cooperative program with the local housing authority to provide Section 8 vouchers to veterans who were preparing to leave the treatment program. Again, this was not a give away program, as the veterans HAD to have a job, and show responsibility for a certain period of time before being able to move out on their own. The housing authority only paid a small portion of each veteran’s rent; I just forget the percentage, but I believe it was no more than thirty percent of the rent, and in many cases it was less than that. The VA monitored each veteran’s employment record, and then their tenant record; that is, the VA made sure the veteran paid their share of the rent and kept their living quarters in decent condition. When I had a problem with a veteran, all I had to do was call my VA contact, and she sent someone out to the property within a day or two to check on the situation. Let me make this clear, the program was not one hundred percent successful, but I’m happy to say that there were more successes than failures.

Over time, I developed a good relationship with many of these veterans. As I said, there were failures, and one guy in particular, whom I recall, went back to the streets. One little story on the positive side, a veteran was moving into the building one day, after more than a year in the recovery program. He always seemed to have “a chip on his shoulder,” but this story shows how that chip finally fell off. The building office overlooked a busy street across from a feeding center for homeless people. After the veteran had signed all of the paperwork to move in, he went out to get his belongings from someone who had transported him to the building. I was looking out the window when I saw two homeless guys approach and then call out to him. They may have known him from his “previous” life, but I’m not certain of that. They extended their hands and he went to them and shook their outstretched hands. When he came back to the office, I told him, “I saw those guys come up to you and I just want to say to you, leave those people alone!!! No good can ever come of it for you!” He just glared at me. Now, I probably would never have even remembered this incident, except about 8 or 9 months later, this same veteran came into the office to pay his rent. He had been doing exceptionally well, and had a good job working in a hospital. He told me the VA had given him a really good evaluation, and he then said, “And you’re part of the reason I’ve done so well.” I was stunned and I couldn’t imagine what I had done to earn such a remark from this battle hardened guy who had been living on the streets just a couple of years before. He said, “Do you remember the day I moved in? You saw those street guys come over to shake my hand.” He then mentioned what I had told him that day with emphasis on the  “no good can ever come of it for you.” He said, “At first I was angry that you would say that to me, but then it stayed on my mind. Every time I thought about going back to the streets, I thought of what you’d said that day. Those guys had their hands out to try to drag me back into the streets with them.”

A few of the veterans, including the above mentioned man, became friends with one another and acted as a ready-made support group. I so enjoyed the way these guys helped each other. These guys had come so far and were doing so well. I wasn’t afraid to let them know if they got out of line in some way, and they knew my remarks were for their own good. Then, the time came that the building was to be torn down for redevelopment. I had to give notices to all of the tenants that they would have to move within sixty days. I was concerned about some of these veterans finding housing, because their personal histories were not without some blemishes, namely arrests. A short time after the vacate notices were given out, a knock came at the office door. When I opened the door, in came a group of veterans and another tenant who had become friends with them. They sat down and I told them that when they went to look for housing, to use my name as a reference, and I’d be sure to get them in somewhere, even if I had to fudge the truth a bit. (Hey, I never claimed to be up for the “Mother Theresa Award” that year.)

Then came perhaps the nicest thing that has ever happened to me in my life. To this day, I get tears in my eyes when I tell or write about it. The one guy acted as spokesman for the group, and he said, “Randy, we didn’t come down here to get help from you. We came down here because we’re all worried about you and whether you’ll have a job now.” I can be pretty battle hardened myself, but I have to admit that it took me a couple of moments to get my composure. Here, these rough and tough guys were worried about me. So maybe old Randy did accomplish a little something in his life.

(This next part was published separately, but I'm including it here)

Just a few other thoughts about this story: I had an excellent relationship with the Cleveland VA Hospital counselors and I sadly miss them, as they did so much good for people. I called the Cleveland VA a few years ago to inquire about the counselors I had dealt with back during the time of this story, Jan, Steve and Charlie, only to find that they had all transferred to other parts of the country; a loss for Cleveland, but a gain for those other parts of the country. The veterans housing program that I participated in was the first in the country.

I don’t know where all of the veterans are, but I sure hope those who had progressed so much have been able to maintain their lives, without going back to any dependency on drugs or alcohol. And I hope that those who were not success stories at our building regained their footing and continued to fight the battle against addiction elsewhere, but not on the streets. My thoughts are often with you guys and will continue to be with you for the rest of my life.

After the building was vacated, I received a call from one of the VA counselors. He said the VA had something special for me and that he would be in to see me shortly. He showed up with a signed card, a cake and a special certificate that I have on my wall to this day.

It reads:
“Department of Veterans Affairs”Certificate of Appreciation Presented to Randy Smith

For his participation and service in the Veterans Affairs Supportive Housing (VASH) Program. As the FIRST participant in this initiative to provide veterans housing assistance, Mr. Smith provided the veterans with a unique opportunity to reside in the community, obtain employment and live a more productive lifestyle. Mr. Smith's contributions to the veterans are greatly appreciated by the veterans and staff of the Domiciliary Service.

Veterans Affairs Medical Center
Cleveland, Ohio
December 1, 1994

(It is signed by the Chief of the Domiciliary Service and has the seal of the Department of Veterans Affairs.)

WORD HISTORY:
Honor/Honour, first is the American spelling, second the British spelling-The ultimate origins of this word are unknown, but it traces back to Latin "honor(em)," which meant "esteem, respect." Old French, a Latin-based language, inherited the word as "honor," and it was carried to England with the Norman dialect of French in 1066 as "honour." It was borrowed into English in the late 1100s as "honour," and overtook the native Germanic word for "honor," which was "aar" (German, for instance, still has the related "Ehre" and Frisian has "eare" as their words for "honor"). The American spelling without the "u" developed in the 1800s. The basic meanings of "respect, esteem" have remained, as in the title/address "Your Honor;" that is, "someone due respect." The verb form developed from Latin "honorare," which had been derived from the original Latin noun (above). This gave Old French "honorer," which was also carried to England by the Norman dialect, and "apparently" it was borrowed into English as "honouren" or "honuren" a few decades after "honour," the noun.