Ready, Willing & Able | The Doe Fund

See, Rosie, I've been to a place few men have gone -- rock bottom. I've done what too few homeless men have been able to do -- get up and out. Having the chance to sweep the streets of New York played a key role in my salvation. That, along with God's blessings, is why I'm now part of society, rather than living on the outside, falling off the edge.

After getting out of jail in 1989 and spending a year at DayTop, a therapeutic community, I was clean for seven years. I had a job. I made $23,000 a year. But then, in 1996, crack got ahold of me. I walked away from my job. I walked away from my apartment. I walked away from everybody who cared about me. I preferred the insanity of the drug.

I slept in doorways. I pumped gas for handouts. I ate doughnuts out of dumpsters. I hustled tourists at JFK airport to support my drug habit. I had seizures on the streets. For nearly two years, other than a short stay in a shelter, I lived on the streets. Maybe I should just say: I was on the streets. Calling it living would not be accurate.

Then one day I planned my suicide. I sat and pondered on going into the subway and sitting on the tracks in a tunnel. Before I could do that, God sent me a message. It was in the form of an 800 number, which I called. The detox center sent a cab for me. There, as I let the drugs get out of my system, I heard about a program called Ready, Willing & Able, a residence for homeless men in Harlem. That's where I've been since Jan. 5 of this year.

Several things struck me about Ready, Willing & Able. First of all, the place was immaculate. It didn't look anything like the old army shelters I used to go to. The men had their own beds, their own phones, their own televisions -- nobody stole from each other. Second, it was made very clear that drug use would not be tolerated. All the men are tested routinely. And finally, I was told I would work as part of Ready, Willing & Able's street cleaning crews. I would be paid but I would have to pay rent and save money.

Homeless people are very uncomfortable with anyone trying to believe in us. Long ago, we stopped believing in our selves. But the folks at Ready, Willing & Able refused to let me run away from their faith in me. They put me out on those streets I knew so intimately, but this time as a work crew with a broom in my hand.

Now, because I work, I'm proud to say I pay rent. I'm proud to be Frank Simmonds again. I've connected once again with my family, including my two grown children. I'm a grandfather now. Of course, that didn't all happen because I'm working again (I have an office job now), but working to pay my own way sure had a lot to do with it.

Work gives you your dignity back. Work makes you part of life and lets you live on life's terms.