Tabatha Deans

HOMELESS IN A MANSION…
I rushed from my job at the donation center directly to a semi-formal fundraiser for the Denver VOICE. I arrived sweaty, slightly stinky, but with a backpack that contained my fancy dress and bitch boots. Actually they’re the third generation bitch boots, but slightly more awesome than their predecessors. The irony was not lost on me that I was ascending the steps to a mansion, where an event to raise money for the street paper to help support the homeless would be held in less than an hour.
I emerged from the restroom a dramatically different person than when I went in, and was immediately approached by a gentleman in his mid to late 40’s. His name escapes me, since I met so many people throughout the evening. He introduced himself and explained he was the owner of the historic home, and gave me a brief tour of the first floor. He was cute and charismatic, and I mentally put him on my list to get to know better throughout the evening. I returned downstairs, mingled a bit and received my volunteer assignment for the evening, then was approached by another 40-something year-old-man who introduced himself. He too said he lived in the home.
Of course. The two men lived there. Together.

The crowd was quite diverse, as socialites, politicians and homeless people, along with volunteers, wandered through the house sipping wine and checking out the auction items. Mrs. D was there, along with her 22-year-old daughter. Mrs. D is the queen of the volunteer office, and an official VOICE vendor. I wasn’t sure we got along, since she is usually abrupt with me when I’m helping at the office. She was wearing a colorful print dress, and standing next to her daughter, in a mansion, you would never know that Mrs. D was homeless. Her daughter gave me a ride home—Mrs. D would not hear of me walking alone after dark, and had it not been for her daughter, I’m sure she would have walked me home herself. I guess we do get along.

May 5, 2012 - Posted by Tabatha Stewart | Uncategorized