A Home at Last

Don Harris moved to California from Boston, got a job, married and started raising a family. After he was attacked on a dark street, he gradually slipped into a life he never expected: He was homeless. But Harris, 36, struggled back; he has two jobs and lives in a Van Nuys apartment with his wife, Pam, and their four children.

On March 21st of 1987, I left the house at 11 o’clock that night to get my daughter some milk at the store on Roscoe Boulevard in Panorama City. The street that I walked up is real dark. There was some guys out throwing bottles at anyone and everyone. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

They broke me up really good, broke my ribs, gave me a concussion, tore my right ear. I had torn ligaments in my hip. It was just terrible.

I fell into the house, and my wife took care of me. I was so banged up that I hallucinated. It took me longer to heal because I never went to the hospital. I went from getting disability that was half of my pay, to no pay. The light bills, telephone, started piling up. My rent was $450--$450s just started adding up.

On the 15th of June, I went back to work, but they wanted me to stay off, so I went back on the disability. I know these dates so well because it’s part of my nightmare. Disability was only paying me $240, so we wound up putting all our stuff in storage.

I’m pullin’ three children around, and we’re moving from hotel to hotel. Being in the hotel room was like being homeless, because all the material things that I accumulated before I was homeless were taken away.

I wound up getting a job at a dog kennel. I worked 15 hours a day, six, seven days a week for $1.97 an hour. The guy had me over a barrel. I needed a job desperately because we were running out of money.

December 24th, I came in from work that night and I was unable to even buy my children a candy cane, let alone a toy. I was terribly hurt.

From there, situations happened, and my wife took the kids back to her mom’s. I went out on my own again, all by myself. I was terrified, because I thought I had done everything I could to keep the family together. I panicked. I tried to commit suicide. That was the worst time of all, when I lost my family.

I got a blanket, and I slept on the street, I slept in hallways. At that time, my unemployment money finally got released, so I was able to keep my stuff stored away.

My storage gave me a sense of being. I’d open up the door, lay the baby’s blanket on the floor between all our belongings and then go to sleep. It made me strong. It made me feel like I had a chance of getting out of it.

I volunteered for Better Valley Services, doing anything and everything, and I wound up on the payroll. I was still homeless. I slept outside. But I was making money, and I didn’t have to pay for no hotel.

I disciplined myself. Instead of spending $5 for dinner, I spent a dollar. Instead of spending money to take the bus, I would walk. It comes down to the person. If you don’t have the strength to turn around and manage your life, no one else does.

Through all this time, my children got separated from their mother, they wound up in a foster home. So my master plan was to get my kids out of this mess and get my family back into where they belonged. And it worked.

In my wildest dreams I would never have thought that I would be homeless. My father worked three jobs. My mother worked a job. The worst thing for a person to be is homeless, because when you’re homeless your self-esteem goes away, your dignity goes away.

Homelessness doesn’t come from alcohol or drugs. You could go down the stairway and fall and break your leg. You could go to half-pay, to no pay. Your bills could build up. That’s what happens to a lot of people.