HOMELESS ADDICTS FORCED TO FIND SOBRIETY UNAIDED

The vans pulled up alongside McPherson Square in downtown Washington
on Saturday afternoon. The back doors swung open and volunteers began
passing out plates of food and bags of clothes to homeless people in
the park.

The scene was at once heartwarming and heartbreaking.

"I came to get saved from the devil. That's what I call drugs," said a
man who called himself Goldie, flashing gold-capped teeth that
revealed not only the source of his nickname but also remnants of the
macaroni and beef meal he'd just enjoyed.

Two Seventh-day Adventist churches from suburban Maryland had pooled
their resources to help more than 100 needy people. Goldie received
food and a coat. But he still needed relief from a tormented soul.

"I sell newspapers on the streets," he continued. "It's a shame to see
your money go as soon as you get it." He lowered his head into his
hands and declared, "I'm so tired."

As temperatures dropped, the volunteers handed out the last of their
bounty -- including 60 scarves that a church member had knitted by
hand -- and headed home before the snow started falling.

It didn't take long, however, for the gratitude of those left behind
to give way to agitation and anxiety. "I need some boots," said a
shivering man named Oliver Hall, who was wearing a pair of thin
sneakers and an even thinner jacket. "I could stand a coat, too."

Upon hearing the word "boots," several more homeless people drew near.
"I need some, too," said Richard Stewart. "Timberland, 11s up to 13."

"Ten and a half Timberland for me," James Thompson chimed
in.

A pair of good boots would keep their feet warm and dry, as well as
improve their odds of not getting hurt doing laborers' work -- if they
could find a job.

But a better life for them also depended on something they rarely
mentioned without prompting: sobriety, which could not be delivered in
a van.

"I just ended up losing a job," Hall said, explaining how he became
homeless. "I drink a lot, can't keep no money."

Thompson said, "My aunt put me out because I was drinking too much and
bringing too many people in the house that she didn't like."

Stewart drew laughter when he deadpanned his reason for being
homeless: "Poverty," he said. "No income." His breath, however,
smelled of alcohol.

An estimated 14,000 homeless people live in the Washington area, and
it would be unfair to even suggest that such a number is due solely to
alcohol and drug abuse.

Nevertheless, 50,000 untreated addicts live just in the District -- a
potential explosion of homelessness waiting to happen.

Although D.C. Mayor Anthony A. Williams (D) promised to increase the
budget for drug and alcohol treatment programs within the first 100
days of his second term, he did nothing. This week, he is expected to
open a shelter at 1355 New York Ave. NE, and another shelter for women
early next year. All too often, however, such shelters address
symptoms while causes go ignored.

Last week, the body of a homeless man, John J. Maher, 46, was found
partly covered in snow near Wisconsin Avenue and Van Ness Street NW.
Maher died from both "exposure to cold" and "acute alcohol
intoxication," according to District officials. What good is a shelter
if you pass out drunk in the snow before reaching it?

Back at McPherson Square, Andrew Kenley said, "I'm trying to wait on
this house to come through." He was staying at a shelter on 13th
Street NW. "In the shelters, you get stressed out, mixed up and caught
up."

What he meant by house was an inpatient drug treatment facility, which
- -- if he found one willing to take him -- would probably have a
weeks-long waiting list.

"Last month, I burned up $800," Kenley said. "I'm out of money right
now, but I do have eight days clean."

The demon that had worn Goldie down was more than a week behind him.
"Size 11 boots so I can go to work," Kenley had called out. But he
knew it was going to take more than that to extend his lead.