Respite in the Redwoods: Homeless vets find help in the redwoods of Boulder Creek

By Bruce Newman

In times of war, frontline troops occasionally are ordered to retreat to a place of relative safety — known in military jargon as a "stand down" — where soldiers can rest and receive medical attention before returning to combat. But for nearly 200 homeless veterans bivouacked among the redwoods at Boulder Creek this weekend, the South Bay Stand Down provided a welcome respite from the daily combat they face on the streets.

The "campers" were all there voluntarily, following six months of cajoling by the Veteran Affairs Health Care System in Palo Alto. They were brought in on buses from a variety of South Bay street corners, park benches and flop houses. Many didn’t stop abusing their painkiller of choice until they got to the steeply wooded glade.

"I came on the bus, and you could smell it all over," said Steve Otis, referring to the reek of alcohol. By midafternoon Saturday, Otis — a veteran of the Air Force and Narcotics Anonymous — already had seen a judge to clear up some legal problems from his days on the streets. After 30 years of substance abuse and a stretch in prison, Otis will celebrate three years of sobriety today among his brothers in arms.

Camp Hope

As the veterans entered the encampment, they submitted to a search for drugs and alcohol — a change from the customary routine at Boulder Creek’s wooded Boy Scout camp. Once inside, the first thing they saw were fellow vets reclining under giant redwoods, as VA dentists performed
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overdue examinations. Two white trailers, each equipped with three dental chairs, where extractions and oral surgeries were performed, sat in the parking lot like a pair of gleaming molars.

"This represents hope," said Kate Severin, outreach coordinator at the Palo Alto VA center. "And motivation on their part to make some really difficult changes in their lives. A lot of the guys have mental illness and drug abuse problems."

But not all the transformations at the Stand Down were taking place among the vets. Dozens of volunteers from the Department of Motor Vehicles, the Social Security administration, the superior court systems of Santa Clara and Santa Cruz counties and shelter agencies seemed thrilled to be there so they could help. Even barbers set up makeshift booths to attend to everyone’s needs. "It’s a powerful feeling to change somebody’s life like that," Severin said.

Many of the volunteers were veterans themselves. Santa Clara Superior Court Judge Kevin McKinney, a former paratrooper with the 101st Airborne, was perfectly dressed for the proceedings. He was sitting at a table wearing a flowing black judicial robe and a floppy camouflage hat. He looked like he was trying to decide between Halloween costumes.

Veterans who had been sentenced to perform community service in other courtrooms were permitted by McKinney and the other judges on hand to work it off at the camp.

"We’re trying to give them an opportunity to get on with their lives," McKinney said. "I think the country has not done a very good job of taking care of its veterans."

Decorated in battle

"It’s pretty hard to change your life if you’ve got legal issues hanging over you," agreed Bill Meyers, 46, who works as a recreation therapy assistant at the VA hospital and helps run the Day By Day Residential Center — a clean and sober house — in downtown San Jose.

Meyers knows this all too well. He joined the Navy to escape the gang life he’d been living in Salinas, where he drove around with a pistol in his lap. By the time Meyers put to sea, he was already covered in tattoos signifying his gang affiliation. He went to prison after being convicted of a drive-by shooting in which he fired 14 rounds at a rival gang member, but didn’t hit anything.

Meyers used and sold drugs for 13 years after the service, before finally getting his life together in 2000. "I think a lot of veterans are bitter," Meyers said "People come out with alcoholism, drug abuse problems and post traumatic stress disorder."

Possibly as a result of those stresses, veterans make up nearly a third of the nation’s homeless population, and Califorina has more homeless vets than any other state. But for two days, a ceasefire with life’s problems had been declared.

As Meyers walked through the Stand Down camp, other veterans — many missing teeth or wearing ragged clothes, but all freshly bathed in the camp’s showers — greeted him warmly.

"I’m glad I can be part of this, to show I know where they’re coming from," he said. "All the resources you need to change your life are right here."