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“I can’t stand the cold,” said Juan. He prefers the streets to the shelters now. She has a housing voucher, but she doesn’t know her next step. He went to Miriam’s Kitchen in Foggy Bottom.
Ford is wired on the District’s rental market and how to smooth things out for voucher holders. He asked Juan to wait for him to finish with the other guests. Then he would take her to look at the apartments. (“A long time ago, I learned that DC is not a town you know. It’s a town you know,” Ford told me. a phone number or email address.”)
The next one is Eric. He also has a voucher. The mayor and the DC Council worked to create 2,400 vouchers, allowing people to rent an apartment with a third of their income — or nothing, if they have no income. The rest is subsidized.
Ford says there is an apartment in Columbia Heights that might be a good fit for Eric. There’s another near Dupont Circle.
“Is it beautiful?” Eric asked.
“Every apartment I found was beautiful,” Ford said. He won’t put a client in any apartment he wouldn’t want to live in himself.
Ford told Eric to meet him at noon outside the apartment building on Massachusetts Avenue NW.
Gerald will follow. He is a returning citizen, the term for someone who is incarcerated. Gerald lives with his girlfriend but wants his own place. He doesn’t have a voucher, but he works in construction and has a steady income: $18 an hour.
Ford knows of a building on 16th Street SE that has an apartment for $1,100 a month, though he can get it for less.
“You’re not good enough for anything else,” he said. Sometimes Ford would get roommates together, but that wasn’t something Gerald was interested in.
Ford’s son lives in this complex, so he knows it’s safe.
“My son can get Amazon packages and they’re still there at the end of the day,” she said. “At night, no one hangs out. These are working people who live there.”
Gerald is like that: a working person, trying to get by.
As he left, Ford turned to me and said, “Eighteen dollars an hour. That’s what I always face. These are the people who unite us during covid.
And now many of them cannot afford to live in the city where they grew up.
Next is a 35-year-old homeless US Navy veteran who self-medicated with marijuana to numb the pain of something that happened during his time in the military. He has been living on the streets for nine years and hopes to get into a residential treatment program to help with his PTSD.
Ford called a contact at Veterans Affairs, and the vet was put on the phone. It was concluded that the vet did not appear to be in immediate danger. Ford promised her that he would continue to work for her.
“Many times people fail and leave before the miracle,” he told me. “They expect to fail.”
Next is a visually impaired immigrant who somehow learns to navigate the city without seeing anything. He lives in a men’s shelter in Anacostia. He queued for a voucher.
“I’m not interested in assisted living,” he said.
Number Six is John. He spent time in foster care, then was adopted, then had his identity stolen. Ford drives with John all over Maryland, visiting various government archives to get the documents he needs to find a place to live. During the saga, he discovers that he has a brother. Today, he stops by to give Ford an update: He’s been accepted for an apartment in NoMa.
“He’s been my angel and my blessing,” John said of Ford.
Bobby is next, another veteran. He received a voucher but needed to fill out his Request for Tenancy Approval. The RFTA is a long, complex document, confusing to many. Ford understands this.
“Sign right here for me,” he told Bobby, reading it page by page.
The last visitor was a woman named Margaret. He has a voucher. In fact, he moved into his apartment two weeks ago. But he hasn’t unpacked yet because he doesn’t have a $2,300 security deposit and fears he’ll be evicted.
Ford explained that at the end of the year, Emergency Rental Assistance Program funds often dry up. Ford assured Margaret that he would look into other charities that might find money.
Ford’s three-hour clinic was over at 11:30 a.m. He put Juan in an Uber and sent him to a prospective apartment building where he would meet later. Then I drove him to a building near Dupont Circle where Eric Blake, 62, was waiting.
The landlord takes us to a freshly painted efficiency. Ford had another unit to show Eric, but he had already made up his mind.
“I’ll take it,” said Eric, who has been homeless for 20 years, and recently lived in his car.
“I just want to live safely,” he said.
It’s all that any of us wants. This is what Esther Ford makes possible.
Miriam’s kitchen is a partner in The Washington Post Helping Hand. I appeal to readers to donate in support of its work. To give online to Miriam’s Kitchen, visit posthelpinghand.com and click where it says “Donate.” To donate by check, write Miriam’s Kitchen, Attn: Development, 2401 Virginia Ave. NW, Washington, DC 20037.
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