Sunday night I went on my first street outreach for the homeless youth program I am volunteering for. Street outreach is when volunteers and staff canvas the streets, looking to make contact with youth who are living on the streets. They offer food, water, clothing...basic needs stuff on a no questions asked basis, so the seek building a relationship with the kids in hopes they will seek the services the organization offers to get off the streets.

It was, to say the least, an eye-opening experience and an extremely humbling one.

I met the two volunteers I'd be riding with at the outreach center around five o'clock. Doug* (* denotes name change to protect privacy.) has been with the program since late last year. He gives me a quick tour of the center, showing me the computer lab where kids can work on obtaining their GED, the kitchen, the supply rooms, etc. We fill a crate with white athletic socks while making small talk: where do I live, what do I do, why did I choose to volunteer there. We gather some more supplies and take them to the van to be greeted by Susan*. Tonight is Susan's third night with street outreach. We put deodorant, shampoo, soap, toothpaste and tooth brushes in plastic bags while Doug adds fruit cups to pre-pared bags of food.

Once we have the van loaded and I'm given a temporary bright yellow t-shirt to identify myself as YOUTH STREET OUTREACH, we get in the van and head to our first destination. During our drive, Doug gives me a run down of what we will be doing and where we will be going. We drive through the parking lot of the Phoenix Library. Doug tells Susan and I of some of what he has seen and some stories of successes of kids they have helped. We don't stop at the park. It may be too early. We head to a shelter south of the library.

I've seen homeless people before, usually one or two at a time. Sometimes they would wander into the community center when I worked the front desk. They'd be seeking shelter from the hot Arizona sun. Where I work there is a homeless guy who lives under a bridge. He is there every day when I drive in and every day when I leave to go home. So, I've seen one or two at a time. That didn't prepare me for a visit to this shelter.

The street was lined with homeless men sleeping under trees and on the curb. As we drove up to the shelter I see about ten men and women hanging out in front. As Doug parks the van, he tells Susan and I, "this is the worst place to be if you are a homeless kid. It's awful here." He tells us when sex offenders are released from prison they are required to have an address for registration. If they don't have any place to go, they get dumped at this shelter. Not a good place for vulnerable 18-21 year olds to be.

We first visit the women's wing. The woman working the front desk barely looks up from her magazine to hand us our pass to enter. We go up stairs are another staff member buzzes us in. Doug yells out, "Man on the floor!" as Susan walks down the hall and enters rooms looking for potentials. Eventually she returns with a young girl who goes to the van with us.

Lisa* is 21 years old and heavy set. She has the face of a child. Smooth skin with big brown eyes. A sweet face. She tells us she has two children: a two year old and a five month old. Both are in child protective services. Then she tells us she just found out that day she is one month pregnant.

I felt my heart sink.

Unfortunately, to qualify for our program you can't be pregnant, however we have information for a shelter that focuses on mothers and keeping the family together. Doug tells her this is not the place she should be. She says she knows and plans on going to the other shelter soon. We offer he some food. She tells us she can't take it inside. We give it to her any way and tell he she can eat it outside before going back in. She thanks us and we head to the men's shelter where we find four boys who speak no English. A man offers to translate for us. We give them food, water and socks and information in Spanish. We also give some to our translator to thank him.

Next we went around the corner to what is affectionately know as "Crack Alley". Doug and Susan tell me repeatedly how scary Crack Alley is. I almost want to ask them to stop, because they are just making me increasingly uneasy and I'm starting to question if street outreach is for me. Dealers and crack heads line the streets. We witness a working girl walking up to a mini van. A man flags us down, possibly thinking we are try to make a score. Doug eventually recognizes him. We don't get out of the van but we crack the window, my window, slightly to talk to him. I am trying to hide how nervous I am.

Dwayne* resides at the other shelter. He tells us that he went to church that morning to "receive his blessing" and that he just found out his mother died in prison. We ask him is he needs anything and he says he could use some food. Doug cracks my window a bit more so I can hand it to him, all while thinking "don't look scared, don't look scared." We tell Dwayne to keep safe and slowly leave Crack Alley and head to the freeway to go to Tempe.

Mill Avenue in Tempe is bustling hot spot. Near Arizona State's campus, it is lined with bars and restaurants that are typically packed every night. There are a couple movie theaters and lots of little quaint shops. When I first moved to Tempe, it was the home of my favorite bookstore. Over the years, corporate America has slowly taken over and pushed many of the small businesses out only to be replaced with chain stores and eateries. Much of its charm is lost and it saddens me whenever I am there.

Mill Avenue is also home to many street youth. They congregate in packs on corners and benches. They are pierced and tattooed. They have punk haircuts and grow beards and dread locks. There is an almost bohemian quality to the homeless on Mill Avenue. I remember reading an article about it once and it is apparent well known as a "hip" place to be if you are young and on the street.

We drive slowly down the street, making our presence known before pulling into a well lit alley behind a popular yuppie restaurant. Several kids follow us. We ask them to wait their turn and come one at a time. The first thing I notice about the kids of Mill Ave. is they seem to have a lot more energy than the others I've met so far. The other kids seemed tired and sad. These kids were all smiles and high fives. These kids also tend to give us street names instead of their real names. Names like Lizard and Half Pint. We pass out our food, water, hygiene packs and socks. Eventually we run out of food packs as the last person leaves. We lock the van and take a walk around Mill Ave.

We pass the kids we just saw on the corner as we cross the street. Doug asks some kids for a particular kid he's looking for, Alex*. Alex has been on the street since he was sixteen. He is now twenty-one. Doug tells us he is the most polite, well behaved kid he has met during outreach. He doesn't do drugs and he helps the other kids out. He warns the outreach team, which kids could cause trouble and directs others to us for our services. Alex recently got a job in construction and Doug has brought him so sports drinks and canned food. No one has seen him and we never find him.

Eventually we come across Sleepy (his street name) who is spanging (asking for spare change). Sleepy is talking to a woman in a Sunday dress and wheelchair. She seems to be doing a street outreach of her own but for whom, we aren't sure. She tells us her street name is Joy and introduces her companion, who's name I don't remember because she doesn't say a word while we are there. and we introduce ourselves. She is taken aback by Doug's name, because it turns out her late husband's name was Doug. She proceeds to tell Doug about the late Doug in great detail while Susan and I exchange looks acknowledging we think Joy's elevator doesn't make it to the top floor.

After Joy and her nameless helper leave, we focus on Sleepy. Sleep has long hair on top but it is sheered extremely short around the sides and back. The top hair is unwashed and on it's way to matting into dreads. It sort of looks like a thick fern like Sideshow Bob's. His frame and face are thin. He looks worried.

Sleepy tells us he has a court date the next day and is facing jail time. He was busted for twenty bucks of pot. He has an outstanding warrant for his arrest in another state, but doesn't say for what. While looking at him I notice his eyes. This boy is weathered looking, tired and depressed, but his eyes are the eyes of a child. Lost and alone. Innocent.

We ask him if he needs anything. He says he could use some food, however we are out of food. Doug looks around and tells him although we aren't supposed to, we'll get him something from a fast food place but he shouldn't tell anyone. We go back to the van and get a bag to disguise the sack from the restaurant. Shortly we return with a combo meal. He thanks us and we tell him he is welcome. As we walk back to the van, I keep thinking about Sleepy's eyes. I tell Susan my heart is breaking. She says, "Yeah. Unfortunately you can't take them
home."

On our way back to the outreach center, we drive down Van Buren Street. Van Buren is notorious in Phoenix for prostitution. Female, male, tranny. They are all there. Doug tells me we never initiate contact with the working girls. Once someone did stop to help. A few days later, they found out the girl's pimp killed her for talking to them. So for their safety, we just drive through, hoping they see the phone number on the van and call for help.

Back at the Outreach Center, we lock up the van and file the paper work. I thank Doug and Susan and tell them I hope to see them again soon.

Driving home, I keep thinking about Sleepy. I keep seeing those eyes. I fell my eyes well up with tears and am about to lose it when my cell phone rings. The Roommate is calling to see if everything is okay and when I will be home. I collect myself quickly and tell her I will be home soon.

That night, safe in my warm bed, I closed my eyes and saw Sleepy. I saw his eyes, looking up at me. Lost. Alone. Sad. I'll never forget those eyes. I hope I have a chance to see them again the next time I head out in the van.