I’ve thought a lot about Devon Collier since I met him, wondering how I could help him get back on his feet. I don’t know why he’s been on my mind so much; maybe just something to occupy my thoughts besides worrying about getting fired or… I don’t know… wondering why and how I ended up skipping over 40 years.
Back to Devon… His social security card dilemma seems like it would be easy enough to deal with. I called my dad and asked him what he knew about replacing a social security card. I also looked on the Internet.
The process is clouded by bureaucracy, and while other means may exist, having a mailing address makes it easier.
My idea is pretty simple, really. I could add Devon to my lease. That would give him an address. He could sleep on the couch and have a bathroom, as well.
So, I went back to the alley to talk to him. He seemed grateful. And suspicious.
“Look, dude,” he said, “you seem like a nice guy, but how do I know? I could go from living in a car to living in a shipping container on my way across the Pacific as some sort of labor trafficking scheme.”
I was surprised by his worries, but I guess they were not unfounded. I asked about his other options and he admitted he didn’t really have anything on the table.
We talked about how I could help him without him feeling in danger. Eventually, he agreed; at least he could get mail sent there. It was a start.
Meanwhile, he’d hooked up with a crew that did day labor and was paid by the job. He explained that it was a scheme to allow undocumented workers access to an income, but he was desperate and needed money.
“I found a place to rent by the week.” He went on to say it was close and more or less clean.
We swapped phone numbers, but he said his service was due to be cut off, and since it was in his deceased mother’s name, he couldn’t really do anything about it.
So, I went back and set up a meeting with my landlord to get the ball rolling. It would take a few steps, but it would work.
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