EDITOR’S NOTE: This is the last of the two-part series on homelessness in Costa Mesa that tells the story of City Editor Paul Anderson’s night on the streets.
I managed to get one of the last blankets, having been late to the pile because I didn’t know the routine, but I reasoned it was enough to roll up into a pillow.
I stayed in the hallway outside the sleeping room because I wanted the light to read. I wasn’t tired yet and had brought along James Baldwin’s “Another Country.”
I didn’t get much of a chance to read it, though, because Ken Robison, an assistant to the Lighthouse’s Pastor Dale Fitch came out to the hallway to keep guard at the door.
At that time anyone could leave, but it was too late to come in.
Ken’s a tall, husky guy with white hair. He’s got hound-dog eyes that often show a spark, especially when the topic turns to Jesus. At first we talked about music.
He shook his head in disbelief at the thought of the classic rock he used to listen to. Nowadays he can’t get enough of Christian music and regularly types it into search engines to find as much of it as he can.
I recommended he check out Sufjan Stevens’ “Seven Swans,” and he asked me to write it down for future reference.
He lit up again as he told me about the weekly Saturday afternoon dinners there at the Lighthouse church.
Volunteers from area churches come in, cook quality food and then serve the homeless like it’s a banquet hall or a restaurant — all part of Pastor Dale’s attempt to restore their dignity.
It was about 11:30 p.m. and Ken puttered around tending to chores here and there. I slumped against the wall and sat down. I still couldn’t sleep. I peered down at the mud-stained, faded carpet and thought how excruciatingly slowly the time passed. One of the guests had a radio on that he never turned off so I could hear the low chatter of a talk show and occasionally music. There was a stale, almost dank smell, probably a hint of mold — like that scent in a thrift store. It wasn’t overpowering or terribly unpleasant, just a reminder it’s an old building where they do their best to keep it clean, but could use an infusion of money to help restore it. All night long there was a parade of men going to the bathroom.
