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The front door creaked opened and in walked a man with a bent up orange hat, a beaten up leather jacket, and long unwashed hair that was held by a rubber band in a ponytail.
“I’m here for community service, here are my papers.” He said. “Hi y’all my name is Mark.” The March for Our Lives on Saturday March 24, left the streets of D.C. overflowing with signs, posters and trash for the Downtown D.C. Business Improvement District maintenance crew to clean up. One member of that crew was Mark. Mark is a 56-year-old white man who has been homeless for eight months. He said he’s been living in the New York Avenue homeless shelter. Mark muttered to himself something unintelligible about why he had 48 hours of community service given to him by local authorities. He was assigned to work with a man named Anthony Davenport, an employee of Downtown D.C. BID. It is not uncommon to see local homeless individuals performing community service time and time again. Recent recidivism rates for local inmates, who have committed one additional offense, hit 79.9 percent in the most recent fiscal year, according to the D.C. Department of Corrections. The rate for two time offenders is 14.8 percent, dropping to 5.4 percent for three or more relapses. Mark is originally from Montana and came to D.C. to talk to Trump about the $71 million lawsuit he filed against the government for racial discrimination. “I came here to talk to Trump, but he don’t wanna talk to me.” Mark said. “They weren’t giving me no jobs for no reason!” Then he started to sing a song Jon Pardi released within the past two years, “I got a little dirt on my boots.” While Mark angrily threw trash into his red bin he talked about his life in Montana and his job in the Carpenters union. “I was being paid $29 an hour, what idiot leaves that kind of job.” Mark said. He continued to talk about his past and how his wife back died from alcoholism. “She drank until she turned yellow.” Mark said. Mark added that ever since his wife died he has suffered from delusions. “I was eleven years sober.” Mark said. “Then I took one shot of tequila, and that was it.” He started to sing again, “I got a little dirt on my boots.” Mark talked about how his mother had left him 24 tracts of land in Montana, nine of which he sold and got $10,000 for. “I tried to put that money in the bank.” Mark noted. “I only put in $2,000 and took out $8,000. I spent that $8,000 in one week partying like a rockstar.” Mark said he needs to get his act together and get back to Montana to his high-paying job. “It’s my delusions that brought me here.” Mark said. He claimed the only way he is going to be able improve his life is by going to Alcoholics Anonymous and bettering his relationship with God. He wanted to start this process by fulfilling his community service hours. He wants to get them finished so he can get back to Montana and work. “This man I met, offered to pay for my ticket back to Montana so I can start working again.” Mark said. During his lunch break, he sat down in McDonalds and befriended another homeless man. “I want a buddy to come along with me in my travels.” Mark said. “But I told this guy, ‘you have to go get a social security card and a government I.D. so you can come with me.’” Mark admitted that he didn’t think this other homeless guy would leave his alcoholic lifestyle to get his act together like Mark wanted to do. Mark looked down with a disappointed face and started singing again, “I got a little dirt on my boots.” B.I.D’s Davenport kept observing to himself, “I think he’s still delusional.” The day came to an end and Mark brought his trash can back to base. “Four more days and then back to Montana.” Mark said. He started singing again, “I got a little dirt on my boots.” Mark handed in his vest and said, “See you guys tomorrow, 7:15 sharp!” Then he walked out the door. A week or so later, the homeless shelter had no record of Mark remaining in residence. |