With so many SRO shelters lining the streets of the Downtown Eastside (DTES), those who pass through the neighbourhood may wonder why so many marginalized citizens sleep on the streets. Time and time again, I hear the same explanation: “I feel safer outside”. For some, this response stems from the uncleanliness and unlivable conditions within the single resident occupancy shelters (SROs), and for others, that feeling of being safer outside stems from much deeper childhood trauma. This is the case for my new friend Peter.

Earlier this afternoon, grade 10 MRSS student Karina, joined me for an afternoon of going ‘Beyond Hello’ – the simple act of engaging in conversation with those living on Vancouver’s streets. With slightly cooler temperatures, the streets were packed today. Thousands of people living in poverty lined Hastings Street. Some sold goods to one another, some gathered in small clusters talking turns watching one another’s possessions, while others wandered the streets searching for discarded cans or free meals.

After an hour of handing out small candy bags, socks, and toiletries, Karina and I noticed a man keeping to himself, intently scanning the sidewalk of Abbot Street. Something about his presence caught our attention. Thinking he might accept our offer to join us for lunch, we stepped over to say hello. I asked Peter if he was searching the ground for cigarettes. He replied “I’m searching for anything”. I asked if he would like to cross the street to head to Tim Hortons. He politely declined and said he would feel bad if we spent money on him. Without prompting, he showed us his hospital bracelets, and shared that he had recently been in the emergency ward enduring a seven hour wait after a lighter had blown up in his face. As he raised his head, his burn was evident, yet what struck me most was the depth of his light blue eyes. His body was weak, and his face was unshaven, yet his eyes offered sincerity and a willingness to connect.  He continued to share his story…

Peter was born in Vancouver and attended elementary school near Slocan and 22^nd Avenue. During his primary years, his father was injured in a mining accident and paralyzed from the waist down. He made Peter and his brother promise to never work underground. With little income and physical hardship, Peter’s parents could not afford to live in the city and found a ground floor motel in Banff to provide temporary housing. During a childhood tantrum, Peter erupted and yelled at his father “I wish you were dead” – words he still regrets today. A series of therapists have assured him that the chances of his dad dying that same week were one in a million, yet their kindness does not take away the guilt he still feels. Peter took us back to that night and walked us through his steps as a young boy finding his father deceased in the dim morning light. Breaking eye contact, and looking to the ground, he mumbled – it took me a long time to move past that. I replied “It sounds like you still carry it with you.” He looked up and replied “yes – I guess I do – and thank you – most people just walk by – it’s been a long time since I’ve told me story. It felt good to talk about it – I may cry again tonight.”  As he regained composure, he chuckled sharing that his doctor has told him that he is lucky to be alive. He lifted the side of his shirt, showing the scars of lung surgery. In recent years he has survived a bacterial infection, pneumonia, covid-19 and lung cancer. His small frame sinks into his clothing after losing nearly 80 lbs. 

Karina and I thanked Peter for sharing his story. We explained our intent for the day and spoke a bit about others in the neighbourhood who we have met through Beyond Hello. When I shared stories of my good friend Cindy, I mentioned she is currently hospitalized at St. Paul’s. With compassion, Peter asked about her health and encouraged her to be careful transitioning back to the DTES. As an ex-addict, Peter knows the dangers of the streets. He has lived in the DTES community for 15 years and shared the details of some horrifying altercations. He now lives in a run-down shelter where the food is dreadful. He laughed as he told us about the time he tried to feed the provided meal to a dog, and the dog turned away.  We asked if he would like to reconsider our offer for lunch.  With humility, he once again said he did not want to take our money, but he would be very appreciative of a small meal from McDonalds.  We agreed and took some steps in that direction. 

As we walked, Peter’s story continued.  At age 10, his mom re-married. Soon into the relationship, his stepdad began to beat his mother. Not wanting children, his stepfather would chain Peter and his brother to the support beam in the basement. He fed them smushed white beans – a mixture resembling paper mâché.  By grade ten, Peter dropped out of school. His brother died of an overdose at age 24.

Peter’s story left gaps – I am not sure how he escaped from his stepdad, or how he started his own family. Peter shared pieces but not enough to connect all the dots. He has been shot at twice and spent time in prison for armed robbery. As a father of two, desperate to make ends meet, Peter robbed a convenience store at gunpoint stealing a pack of cigarettes and $260. Years later, when his union job provided him enough of a living income, Peter returned to the shopkeeper and apologized – returning the $260.  

Peter lost custody of his children when his oldest daughter was 9 years old. Ten years later, as he wandered to the store to buy cigarettes near Vancouver Community College, he noticed a young woman out for a walk. As their eyes met he knew the woman was his daughter. He recalls the interaction “Excuse me – I don’t mean to startle you – but could I ask you a question – is your name Vanessa?”  The woman replied “Why are you asking me that?”  He continued “I am not creepy, is your name Vanessa, and do you love your dad still?” Realizing who the man was, the two embraced and began to make amends. To this day they are still connected, though Peter has yet to meet his grandchildren.

As we reached McDonalds, I asked Peter if I could write about his story. He eagerly agreed. I shared that my hope is to shift the perception of the neighbourhood one story at a time. When I told him about my book, portraying past stories of the people I have met, he asked if he could read it. I had one in my car which was just across the street. As Peter waited for his McDonalds’ meal, I ran and got the book. He planned to head to his shelter to enjoy his lunch and begin reading. He turned to me and stated, “I bet I will know some of the people you have written about – I won’t sell this.” 

As we said goodbye, Peter thanked us repeatedly for the book and his lunch. We thanked him for his courage, and his willingness to share his story. Like a protective father, he offered to walk us to my car and reminded us to stay safe and avoid the DTES at night. A stark reminder of his internal demons as he still feels safer sleeping outside.