Street Roots • June 2-8, 2017
AVENTURERO, fro m page 10
who helped him find work: in North and South
Carolina, in Georgia, in Nashville and New
Orleans, Washington, D.C. and L.A.; and most
recently in Seattle, Vancouver, Portland.
For allthose years, as he roamed about the
U.S., Henriquez worked - always manual labor,
the basic hard work it takes to keep a giant
economy running: factories, warehouses,
construction, moving companies; cleaning
offices or cars; washing dishes. Despite his
crooked legs he would work all day, 10 or 12
hours or more, and then play soccer into the
evening. Nearly 20 years ago he quit smoking
and drinking. “If I had not found Christ,” he
said, “I would be dead.”
Even after 2008, when “everything went
down (“sefue todo abajo”), he kept working.
“There were plenty of jobs for manual laborers,
but you had to work hard.”
In his 50s, though, physical problems began
to slow the adventurer: first, terrible pain in his
hands, then his legs. He became weak; walking
was difficult. Bit by bit, he was losing the vigor
that had sustained him throughout his life. “For
four years now,” he said, “I have not been able
to work hard. In five minutes I am weak, my
legs hurt. I can’t lift 20 pounds.”
He was living in L.A. then, and thought a
change to a cooler climate would help. “I moved
to Seattle for the weather. Some people, when
it’s hot they feel good, healthy, happy. But for
me it is better when it’s cold.” He worked for 10
months prepping cars for an auto auction, but
continued to feel weak.
Restless and concerned for his health, he
moved to Vancouver. He still had a little money
saved up, and for a few months was able to pay
rent. When his money ran out he found, through
the Spanish-speaking grapevine, an auto shop
that had no security system. The owner let him
stay in the shop, use the bathroom and sleep on
a couch in the waiting room in exchange for
serving as an informal security guard. They said
they would pay him a little per week, but after a
few months refused to pay.
His family in L.A. invited him to come back
and stay there. “But,” he said, “I didn’t want to
be a burden - for them to have to take care of
me.”
He moved into Portland, and again his
grapevine helped him survive: He learned about
News
the organization Transition Projects, and stayed
at one of their shelters for four months. TPI
connected him with Northwest Pilot Project,
and he found health insurance through the
Oregon Health Plan (“You must have
insurance,” he advised me). Now, he could see a
doctor and try to figure out what was happening
to him. He was able to go to the Fanno Creek
Clinic, and feels his doctor there may have
saved his life. He was diagnosed with carpal
tunnel syndrome, neuropathy, spondylolisthesis,
diabetes, gout - enough to keep any man down.
By then he was also terribly overweight, and a
doctor told him he must make a change.
“My doctor explained it to me,” he said:
“People go to the doctor, they get pills, but they
keep eating the same thing, they don’t change
their habits. They take the pills, but the pills
don’t help them.”
He took his doctor’s advice seriously, and
learned about nutrition. He is proud of his
success: “I lost 20 pounds, and moved three
holes on my belt.”
Northwest Pilot Project helped him get into a
studio apartment last July. Although he still
imagines someday finding a place out of the
downtown area, he is grateful to be housed. It’s
better than the auto shop; better than the
shelters, it’s certainly better than when he had
to sleep on the street in Portland. He has a
blender, and he’ll blend avocado, jicama and
water. “If you drink it every day for a month you
will be well.”
He feels better than he has in years. He goes
to church every week. “I respect God,” he said.
It’s a simple life, but for.now it is good. With a
small Social Security award, he feels he could
live well.
Still, despite daunting health problems, he is
very clear that he will not give up. “I have
normal strength for looking for work, for
cooking. To work hard eight hours every day? I
do not have the power. I start to sweat, my body
hurts.
“But I can empty trash, I can clean, mop,
sweep. I know how to bake, make pastries. I can
drive, I have a license. But for only a short time,
maybe every week, 20 hours, or 25. Then I will
be able to keep working for a few more years.”
At age 57, he insisted, “It is not time to retire.
“Ando buscando,” he said. “I am looking.”
Page 11
Punctuated Time
by Shaggy
Intimacy
Is lost in the sea
We must get it back,
Eventually.
Adoration
Will be tested
Weighed against our
Expectations
Entitlement
Is no sentiment
To exclude our praise or
Empowerment.
Appreciation
For others frustrations
Could save our dreams from
Mass devastation
Dream
by Daniel Cox
Requiem of a nightmare. Standing
On the edge of tomorrow. An
ode to the priest, most high.
Here in this dream of today
We rest on our laurels, and
Hope for the best, it may seem
Like a while, but it’s only
A moment in time.