Homeward Bound

Read the inspiring true story of a local man snatched from success to homelessness and back again. According to a report from the National Alliance to End Homelessness, the number of homeless senior citizens will rise by a third in the next ten years and jump 54 percent by 2050 -- unless something is done now to prevent the increase. Statistics show that 10 percent of seniors live below the poverty level, one million seniors (or 2.6 percent of people over 65) live in extreme poverty and more than 44,000 of them are currently homeless. www.endhomelessness.org

A well-heeled Audrey Hepburn dined in elegant, refined style as Holly Golightly in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”.

Richard LeMieux was once lucky enough to “go lightly” through life with a waterfront home, cars, yachts and all the attendant luxuries of a successful businessman, but when faced with complete financial ruin just over a decade ago, even his family abandoned him.

At almost 60 years of age, Richard found himself homeless and alone after losing his medical directory publishing business with the advent of the internet. In a dizzying downward spiral that still clearly pains the author to talk about, Richard’s new reality was living out of the back of a van. His sole companionship took the form of the loving face-licks and curled-up warmth of his little dog, Willow, who helped comfort him through many a cold and frosty night. As each relentless bleak and unwelcome dawn glared through the fogged up windows of his mobile (as in Oldsmobile) home, it was Willow who coaxed him to pop the locks and pound the pavement for yet another day of. . .living?

Cruelly stuck in an isolated no-man’s land somewhere between numb and number, Richard contemplated terminating his nightmare for good. But when he found himself teetering quite literally on the edge of life and death, clinging to the railing of the Tacoma Narrow’s Bridge, it was a hysterically yelping Willow that miraculously called her master back from the lure of the abyss; back to the driver’s seat of their two-creature family van and ultimately, back into the driver’s seat of Richard’s life.

So begins a raw and honest tale of one man’s journey through the terrors and even a few unexpected joys of homelessness. After peeling away from the sight of near-suicidal tragedy through an onslaught of rain and tears, Richard and Willow eventually found themselves in the Navy town of Bremerton, Washington, the blue-collar, blue-blooded heartbeat of Puget Sound.

Richard’s story is retold in his recently published book, Breakfast at Sally’s (which is about as far from the world of Breakfast at Tiffany’s as you can get). Set against the richly textured backdrop of Bremerton, Richard brings the town to life as a funky, quirky personality in its own right. The memoir is as much an inspiring tale of recovery and self-discovery as it is a vivid portrait gallery of spectacularly colorful and earthy characters. At its heart, the book is a celebration of friendship and community, and a testament to the truth that what rescues and feeds the human spirit is not individual fortitude, but our connection to each other.

The Sally’s of the title acts as a solid anchor in a world where so many lives are in flux and adrift. The name is an affectionate moniker for The Salvation Army, where Bremerton’s homeless and needy community share hot meals, fellowship and basic services under the no-nonsense but compassionate pastoral leadership of “The Major” James Baker (The Salvation Army uses military titles for its service officers).

Appropriately, The Major indeed plays a major role in helping Richard get back on his feet—a practical and spiritual calling (as he puts it) that still defines his daily routine as the man in charge of the sturdy beige brick building where Richard first broke bread with other Sally’s regulars—the likes of flamboyantly pirate-costumed “C”, Gentleman Jake, and Andy, to name a few. These homeless men are more than memorable, inimitable characters that deliver humor, poignancy and street smarts to chapter after engrossing chapter. They are Richard’s witting and sometimes unwitting teachers in how to survive a world of cold nights and cold shoulders. They represent his mentors in the painful but rewarding hard work of rediscovering what it means to be alive. They are his friends, his family; the distinct and very real faces of a community that is sadly all too invisible to most of the rest of us.

An illustration at the top page of Chapter 1 of Breakfast at Sally’s shows the line-up of hungry men, women, families and children outside the squat brick building, waiting for the doors to open for mealtime at Sally’s. A nearly identical illustration adorns the top of the final chapter toward the back of the book. The difference in the images is this: the faces at the opening of the book are blank, completely devoid of distinguishing features. By the book’s close, the individual characteristic of the people’s faces have been restored.

Most readers will undoubtedly miss the subtle yet profound symbolism of this, as I did. But it quite literally illustrates what Breakfast at Sally’s successfully accomplishes. It puts a face on homelessness. It puts many faces on homelessness—the faces of real people just like you or me—faces too used to our averted, downcast glances.

When I was interviewing Richard for this story, I had the honor of joining him for lunch at Sally’s. I met The Major and a few of Richard’s old friend’s (“C” and Gentlemen Jake were away brightening other corners of the world that day, but this is a personal shout out to my lunch-mate Randy who does feature in the book!) After lunch, it was Richard who drew my attention to the nuanced poignancy of the missing faces in the illustration—indeed, it was his idea to take a white-out brush and make the changes just before the manuscript went to press.

Richard is no longer homeless, and readers can discover the details of how he regained his emotional and spiritual center and got back on his feet by reading the book. Richard spends his days putting a face on homelessness and telling the story of the unsung heroes all around us. Now almost 70 years of age, “retirement” for Richard is a chance to keep telling his story. Chapter 33, the chapter with faces restored to the illustration is called “So Much to Write.” Indeed, Richard is working on a couple other books and still has “so much to say” to all of us. There is a gentle wisdom and vigorous humor that shines through in Richard’s demeanor. His is a story worth discovering.

This article appeared in the April 2012 issue of Northwest Prime Time, the Puget Sound region’s monthly publication celebrating life after 50.