I hardly know where to start with this story.

* Should I start with the fact that she has been raped 38 times on the street?

* Should I start with the fact that she gave birth to her baby a year ago in my yard?

* Should I start with the fact that she is sober and has been for some time, and is on a path to get her baby back?

Each of these leads are so powerful I don’t know which is the best hook to start this story off.

I guess it’s a story of triumph over tragedy.

Let’s go back to last summer…

Crystal was pregnant and sleeping on a bench in my yard. I had recently been sued by the city for having tents and other basic survival items on my property. I will now go to jail if I put one more tent on my property. So, I couldn’t give Crystal a tent. She slept most of her pregnancy on a hard wooden bench. I don’t believe she even had any blankets. Just a wooden bench.

As she got very late into her pregnancy someone set up a canapy. This was on a piece of land in between land I own. A man by the name of Larue Corn owns this land. I’ve been trying to buy it for years. But Larue has been dead for over 20 years. His kids thought they had donated it to the church. They hadn’t. They don’t want anything to do with it. So it just sits there. We call it the Grey Zone.

Because I don’t own the land it’s not on me to make sure there aren’t tents on the land. I don’t have control over that area. It’s ironic really. I wanted to buy it once through the side lot program. But they wouldn’t sell it to me. So, it just sits there with no real owner.

In late September, Crystal gave birth under that canopy in the Grey Zone. Here’s a video I took of Hurricane, who was with her during that birth:

After that day, Crystal disappeared. And not long after, so did Hurricane. The canopy came down, and I just chalked it all up to yet another fucked up miracle that we experienced on this genuinely sacred ground. God lives with me in this area. God is never with me anywhere other than this battleground of lost souls. (It’s not the houseless people who are lost souls; it’s the souls of a garishly rich country who witness this excruciating human tragedy unfold before their eyes and do nothing about it.)

Crystal re-appeared in our lives a couple months ago. She had been going through a sober living program. She had been working it intensely.

Crystal is now eight months sober. She often comes by to talk to her friends who are still stuck on this hellish battlefield. They feel like trapped ghosts who don’t know how to move on.

But Crystal moved on and now is coming back to try to show people the path out. It’s so hard. It’s so hard. We never can judge someone in this situation. The forces keeping these people locked in a spiral of hell are more than any of us can imagine. We just have to attempt to understand that getting out is all but impossible.

But sometimes people do get out.

Not only did Crystal get out, but so did Hurricane. His family sent me a picture of him playing with some young kids in a lovely house. He’s also been sober for a long time.

I am so thankful and grateful for these stories of redemption and hope. They are icing on an otherwise shitty cake.

But I prefer to be in the shit cake with the people that haven’t gotten out. One way or another, you always get out. You either go to jail, go to sober living, or die. I’ve seen people do all three. I like to be in this purgatory of waiting for those transitions to come. It’s so terrible and yet so beautiful.

Crystal recently had a really nice article written about her in the Barberton newspaper. I’ll put those pages at the end of this post.

She has experienced some of the most severe brutality and torture on the streets of Akron, Ohio, and she tells all in this article.

But it’s not new. It’s not unique. Crystal isn’t special in that regard. Women living on the streets for any amount of time have all been raped, brutally beaten, and often sold for sex. I genuinely believe homelessness (and things like school shootings) are the universe asking us if we are truly as careless and heartless as we seem to be. The answer is yes. As a society, we are totally careless and heartless. It’s the most shocking part of it all.

How much cruelty can we watch and do nothing about it? The answer is: ALL OF IT! There is no line that has gone too far. What have we become?

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In this episode, Sage shares two intense and deeply personal encounters that highlight the challenges and dangers of working with houseless communities. Sage recounts recent incidents where he was threatened by individuals with guns while simply trying to provide basic necessities, such as water and supplies, to those in need. These experiences lead him to reflect on the pervasive culture of violence and the troubling reliance on firearms as a means of resolving conflicts.

Sage also delves into his personal code of self-defense, emphasizing his commitment to only using a gun if someone poses an imminent threat to him or his friends. The emotional toll of these encounters is palpable as Sage discusses the highs of helping others and the crushing lows of facing violence and societal indifference.

Throughout the episode, Sage critiques the failures of late-stage capitalism and systemic neglect that contribute to the desperation and violence in our communities. He expresses deep frustration with how basic necessities, like water and trash services, are often withheld from those who need them most due to bureaucratic red tape.

This episode is a raw and unfiltered exploration of the realities of advocacy work, underscored by Sage's growing disillusionment with a society that often seems indifferent to the suffering of the most vulnerable.

Sage’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

This interview gives, I think, one of the most unvarnished discussions I’ve ever had on drug use and mental health issues in the homeless community.

Patty uses meth every day. This interview delves into that reality.