Living on the Edge
Homelessness results from bad luck, bad choices — but hope doesn't die
Thu, Oct 19, 2006

By Jeff Hansel

The Post-Bulletin 

LIVING ON THE EDGE
Krystal McDonald, 20, of Las Vegas, Nev., said she was recruited by a company in Apple Valley, Minn.

"Once I got there, the job fell through. They were the ones taking care of the apartment. So I got kicked out of the apartment," she said. "We were heading back to Utah (where she grew up) and our car gave out."

Traveling with her were her husband, whom she declined to name, her mother, Ronni Dustin, 40, and her daughter, Nevaeh (heaven spelled backwards). She says she's not worried and believes their life will turn around.

"What counts is the family things that you can't buy with money," McDonald said. "I think everybody that's rich and never been homeless should be homeless for a week."

Car trouble, a layoff or getting evicted can lead to homelessness, say homeless people in the Rochester area. Many triggers for homelessness are sudden and lacking in easy solutions, like those that happened to McDonald.

Domestic violence, family problems and acute illness can have profound effects.

¥ Johnny Howze, 57, originally of Mississippi, came to Rochester from Chicago and got a job within two weeks. But uncontrollable diabetes and kidney problems took away his ability to work, he says, noting that a doctor told him he will never be able to work again.

¥ Dennis Radfan, 48, known on the street as Rudy, was on his own by age 13, he says, because of a physically and mentally abusive situation. It wasn't long before he was involved with alcohol, drug sales and prison.

¥ David Otte, 47, says he spent half his adult life homeless. He was on the streets in California at age 17 and later moved to Rochester, where he eventually received help getting an apartment.

"I had also had mental illness, and when I couldn't get my medications (because he couldn't afford them), I acted out of sorts. The police department would pick me up and I would be sent to the psychiatric hospital for a few days," he said. He is happy to live in Rochester, despite his continued struggle with bipolar disorder.

"It's something I have to live with each day," he said.

¥ Robert Talbott, 32, who's originally from St. Louis, said "I met a friend of mine, and he let me stay with him for a while" in Rochester. His ex-wife's sister also lived in the area, and he stayed with her for a while. Talbott, a roofer, says he is undergoing rehabilitation for a work-related back injury.

"I've probably put in at least 75 applications. But I ain't got no call-backs yet," he said on an afternoon in May.

"I moved from St. Louis to start my life over somewhere new. I was going through a divorce. So I figured I'd start my life over," he said.

His story isn't unusual. Homelessness is often triggered by problems unrelated to drugs, alcohol, crime or other stereotypes.

When children known to advocates as "unaccompanied youth" are on the street, it is often because of family problems like personality conflicts, arguments, domestic violence and divorce.

¥ Donna Prather, 24, went on maternity leave after giving birth to her second child. She and her fiance, William "Billy" Burks, 27, came home to find the locks changed. They ended up moving in with her mother, who worried about being evicted herself with four extra people in her small apartment.

But Burks was searching for a job, and the couple was hopeful things would work out for them -- until Prather awoke Sept. 2.

Burks was found dead on the couch that day, having overdosed on the powerful pain medicine oxycodone, according to the Olmsted County Medical Examiner.

Prather was left to raise their son, Devon, and her daughter, Alexus. Weeks before his death, Burks sat with Prather for an interview, gently stroking her hand with his thumb as they talked about their life on the edge of homelessness. He was eager to find a job.

"We're smart. We're very smart," he said. "There's not enough resources for us to pull on to pull ourselves up out of this."

Prather said services to help people in need are frustrating because they include too many rules and time limits that are too short.

"Once you have your little goal within this much of a reach, they rip that rug right off from underneath you," she said. Burks rubbed his fingers lovingly across Prather's arm.

"We can just start off having a good day and something will go wrong," said Prather that day.

Burks was buried Sept. 8. Prather continues striving for a more-settled life.