Blanche Smith has more in common with her namesake Blanche Dubois, the loquacious and fragile woman in Tennessee Williams’ play “A Street Car Named Desire,” than even she might recognize.
Smith, a soft-spoken, dignified African-American woman in her forties, talks about falling on hard times as she stands outside a basement door at 300 Bloomfield St.
“I stopped working to take care of my mother, who developed Alzheimer’s disease,” Smith explains. “I lived with her and worked at Sears in Union City as a customer sales representative.”
Smith at times withdraws into herself as she struggles to explain the events that led her to the Hoboken Homeless Center underneath St. John the Baptist Lutheran Church on Third and Bloomfield.
Smith has been homeless since January of 2000. Smith’s mother became bedridden and moved into a nursing home. Blanche Smith was evicted from her mother’s apartment and moved in with her godmother.
However, trauma continued to follow her. Smith’s mother died in 2003. Her godmother threw her out of the house some time later. Smith is not sure when.
“She wanted me to move, but I did not take her seriously,” Smith said, her eyes focused on nowhere in particular. She suspects her godmother has Alzheimer’s too.
Sometime in between Smith’s eviction from her mother’s apartment and moving in with her godmother’s apartment, she began to get hope from social service agencies. They sent her to a local technical school for computer training. “I had an A average,” she said.
But when she became homeless, she dropped out. She says she has not been able to get her books back from her godmother’s house.
Giving hope
Sister Norberta sits behind a large plastic picnic table in a small reception area in the basement of the Hoboken Shelter. The reception room has pink walls and a linoleum floor to match. Blue and gray school lockers cover one side of the room.
A Latino man sits opposite Sister Norberta in a donated office chair with peeling duct-taped arms. He waits patiently, as if in a doctor’s waiting room, for his chance to talk with Sr. Norberta.
When the guest sits in front of Sr. Norberta’s table, she counsels him in perfect Spanish.
In fact, Sister Norberta, the shelter’s executive director, counsels guests on everything from jobs to social services. She is a sturdy woman who appears much younger than her 60 or so years. She speaks in the soft but deliberate voice, sporting steel-rimmed glasses and a steelier resolve.
Sr. Norberta belongs to the Franciscan Community of Syracuse New York.
“The shelter has been in operation 24 years,” she said. “We provide beds for 50 men and women per night. The women sleep in a separate room upstairs that doubles as a program room during the day. We are full every night and turn people away most days.”
The shelter feeds 80 to 100 guests per night, not all of whom have to stay there. The shelter is owned and operated by the Communities of Faith for Housing Inc. a non-profit organization sponsored by local churches and synagogues.
In a town where a one-bedroom apartment can rent for $1,700 dollars, Sister Norberta explained the desperate need for affordable housing in Hoboken.
“A number of people who are staying here have considerable savings; they are working but can’t find affordable housing,” she said. “Our elderly would be gone if we had no affordable housing. In Hoboken, finding lots for affordable housing is impossible. There is no political will. Our older people are priced out of their apartments and have nowhere to go. There is little in terms of senior housing. The working poor cannot make it on minimum wage.”
Sr. Norberta added, “The guests that use the shelter normally have a history in Hoboken. They were born here or lived here at some stage in their lives. Sometimes volunteers are surprised to see faces of residents they once knew.”
Breaking the cycle of poverty
The federal government funds educational programs, jobs and life-skills programs at the shelter. However, the community is essential in supporting the shelter.
“We raise funds on club nights, private donations, and a collection held once a year at the PATH Station,” says Sr. Norberta.
Local schools and non-profits hold benefits for the shelter, too.
The shelter pays one full-time employee and 11 part-time employees, providing social services and addiction counseling to the residents.
Evelyn Rodriguez, a case manager at the shelter, explains, “Ninety-nine percent of the homeless population at the shelter suffer from mental or substance abuse problems. Homelessness can affect anybody in life. I have seen people who worked on Wall Street with unresolved mental health issues end up at the shelter. I remember many residents with substance abuse problems who managed to get their lives back in order. They wanted to change and were receptive to the information we provided. One man I remember found a job and now is doing very well living in his own place in Jersey City.”
The shelter touches the lives of both guests and volunteers alike. Up to 300 volunteers work at the shelter each month. Maria Bradley, an attractive 31-year-old woman, was recently handing out white paper plates to residents in the dining hall/dormitory just off the reception room.
Just five months after moving to Hoboken, Bradley found herself volunteering for a second time at the shelter. “When I volunteer, I meet new people, and the residents are so grateful,” she said. “I know when I walk out of here I feel good, and that’s why I volunteer. I am even more grateful for what I have. They make a change in my life. Volunteering helps me get out of my own head and my own crap.”
Sr. Norberta is optimistic as she continues to dole out compassion and counseling to her guests. She remembers a guest who had made many mistakes in his life.
“When I asked him what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, he was not optimistic,” she said. “He asked me to contact his brother who he lost contact with over the years. Ironically, his brother was also searching for him for many years. We contacted his brother and the reunion was extremely moving. They left together and I have not seen him since.”
Back to Blanche
Blanche Smith is standing outside the shelter having a cigarette.
“My health is deteriorating,” she says. “I went to a psychiatrist yesterday for intake. She told me that if I am not seeing or hearing things, and I am not homicidal or suicidal, then there is nothing she can do to help me. I want to have an apartment of my own. I would prefer a one bedroom but I would take a studio if I had to. I have no children but I would love an apartment so I can have a cat and dog. I would study my Microsoft books for months. I would write it out and type it out.”
She flicks her cigarette butt on the ground and says, “I loved my godmother.” Then, she walks away.