A Wonderful Life? No, but the Down and Out Made Do

“This time last year, the only Christmas wrapping I had was around my arm, and I was jamming a needle in it,” Michael said.

Michael spent Sunday straight. No cocaine blackouts on this day. No shooting up in the bathroom. No thoughts of isolation and anger and suicide.

Instead, the 36-year-old former drug smuggler and businessman spent the holiday knee-deep in Christmas presents, surrounded by people he considers family, as a recovering addict at the Phoenix House, a residential drug rehabilitation center in Santa Ana.

Admittedly, Michael could have imagined about a dozen places where, if his life were different, he would rather have spent the holiday.

Limited Choices for Down and Out

But for him and thousands of others like him in Orange County who--for reasons such as poverty, homelessness, loneliness and drug addiction--are down and out, the choices were limited.

Their holiday on Sunday was not the stuff of Jimmy Stewart movies, and they had no guarantees that next year will be any different. Still, many made do as best they could, seeking out help and finding friends and holiday spirit at soup kitchens, rescue missions and homeless shelters, at churches and at drug centers like the Phoenix House.

They were people like Anita Hernandez, who brought her two small children to the Orange County Rescue Mission in Santa Ana for a hot meal, some entertainment by a well-dressed balloon maker with clown’s wig, and a chance at a few presents. She couldn’t afford to celebrate Christmas on her own.

They were people like 53-year-old Ysidro Velo. He was fired from his job as a janitor 3 months ago and has been living since on the streets of Santa Ana. But he ventured into the Orange County Rescue Mission on Sunday for some hot turkey and pumpkin pie, grumbling as he left because he couldn’t get a blanket. For Velo, Christmas was like any other day. Still, he said, “I guess it could be worse.”

They were people like Rhonda, a 33-year-old mother of three who is a speed addict and a former prostitute. On Sunday, she spent her second Christmas at the Phoenix House in the drug treatment program. A day of good food and good friends, it was a marvelous Christmas, Rhonda said--one of the few in memory that she didn’t spend stoned or “hooking.”

Still, Phoenix House rules prevent patients from seeing their families on Christmas Day, and Rhonda acknowledged: “It can be a hard time of year for everyone here.”

And they were people like 36-year-old Bob Sherwood, who says his luck ran out 6 months ago. First, his ’76 Subaru died. Soon after, he broke his ribs in a pick-up basketball game and, as a result, lost a well-paying job as a cabinetmaker in Santa Ana.

He couldn’t pay the rent and was out on the street, spending his nights at rescue missions and Salvation Army shelters.

Presents for Daughter

Recently divorced, Sherwood dropped off some presents for his daughter at her mother’s house in Fullerton on Sunday. It was Christmas morning. After that, he was alone, with only a few dollars left in his pocket.

He thought hesitantly about going to a rescue mission for a hot meal. It was a humbling consideration. “I thought I’d be bringing myself down, but then I realized--’Hey, I’m not better than anyone else.’ ”

And so he went to the county’s rescue mission on Walnut Street in Santa Ana. He didn’t regret it.

“I was lucky to find out about this place,” Sherwood said as he scooped another forkful of stuffing. “I’ve never really been in this position before--you know, without a job, without a home, without my family. And it really means a lot psychologically to be able to come here and spend the holiday with people. That’s more important than the meal.”

If he had been forced to start out the new year without first celebrating Christmas, Sherwood said, it would be “like starting out the school year without any new clothes. . . . This really made my Christmas.”

At the rescue mission in Santa Ana, 182 volunteers gave up part of their Christmas Day to hand out toys and serve about 600 pounds of turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie through the afternoon to about 3,000 needy people in the local community, most of them Latino.

Some came alone. Others brought their families to eat, listen to music, receive a few presents and perhaps take part in a morning Christmas prayer service.

“The parents come because they want the kids to eat, and the kids love the toys,” said Pam Halpern, a college student who volunteered her time.

Thomas Whaley, an attorney for the rescue mission, said Sunday’s Christmas turnout was one of the largest he can remember, a sign of tough economic times for many Latinos. “We are the richest nation in the world, and on a day like this especially, we ought to be doing what we can to help our people.”

A few miles away in Santa Ana at the Phoenix House, about 70 rehabilitating addicts spent the day thankful that they too had friends to turn to on a day that can be bleak and lonely.

Jodi Bell, a former Valium addict who went through the 18-month in-house rehabilitation program and now works at the Phoenix House as a counselor, had the day off. But she came to the center anyway, remembering Christmases past of caroling, huge trees and good friends.

“I don’t remember half the Christmases before I came here,” Bell said, “because I was so loaded. Here, it’s always a special time. Everyone identifies with one another, because they all have the same problems.”

Said Rhonda, the former prostitute from San Diego: “Christmas here is a warm spot in the cold city--a lot of warmth and a lot of love, and a lot of people just wanting more than anything else to live.” Hope for the future, she said, makes up for the separation from family and the loss of freedom.

Added Michael, a Phoenix House resident who estimates he has spent $150,000 on cocaine and other drugs in his life: “Christmas is better this year because I know now that I’ll be around for all the rest of the Christmases.”