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“Bill, this is Lisa; she runs the dayrooist fro to identify a h theto shake ot the question I’d wanted to ask her

“If one of these people wenttoward the dayroom, “how likely is it they’d be missed?”

She didn’t have to think long “You know that old saying about a tree falling in the forest-if nobody’s there to hear it, does it still make a sound? Most of these people don’t have anybody there to hear the-when they’re out walking the streets, or sleeping under a bridge, or asking for uy stops wandering past your don business or condo, you’re probably just grateful he’sthe sentiments of ninety-nine out of a hundred people A car behind us honked, so aved good-bye She suessed that her s most people in the dayroo out in the dayrooer was already pulling away from the curb

Heus through a block of upscale lofts and condos tucked into high-ceilinged brick warehouses and retail stores dating from the early 1900s Some of these stylish urban residences sold for half aon their ironic proximity to the dayroom and its homeless clientele

“That’s not all,” said Roger, pointing to the building right on the corner “Volunteer Ministry Center has sixteen apart, he said, for people trying to get back on their feet The rest of the block revolved around fancy condos, galleries, design fir that the clientele for the businesses came from the lofts and condos, not the dayroo

“As you can see, there are two very different worlds here,” he said,

“and those worlds collide just about every day The police get a lot of complaints from the iti to use the bathroom or the telephone But so the have-nots chased away”

“Chased to where?”

“That’s the probleet forced out of don, so they head up Broadway, toward the Kroger and the pawn shops Or est, to the truck stops on Lovell Road Or they just hang out in the bushes or under bridges Here, I’ll show you” Henorth on Broadway As we passed beneath the eight-lane viaduct that carried I-40 past don and my eyes adjusted to the shade, I saenty or thirty people in the gloo on a loall that bordered it, others stretched out on the barren ground farther back Sos filled with possessions; others had just the dingy clothes they wore A few stared at us as we idled past; sonored us, intent on conversations with other people or with voices in their heads; others slept or stared off into space “The businesses down here really hate this,” he said, nodding at a paint store and a company that sold industrial pumps “Except for that convenience market”-he pointed at a sridded with stout steel bars-“which sells a lot of beer”

E from the shadow of the viaduct, we came to the missions The Salvation Are thrift store fronting Broadway-a store where ht cheap clothing, worn furniture, or battered kitchen gadgets Behind the thrift store were other buildings-offices and a , the Salvation Arer said Like Volunteer Ministry Center, the Salvation Ar, for families in crisis and for people enrolled in Operation Bootstrap, a six- or alcohol probleeneral, the Bootstrap people aren’t the ones you see roaer “They’re inside, or off taking a class or working a job”

Across the street, facing the Salvation Arer referred to by the acronym, KARM It was one letter shy of “kar the education building into an overnight shelter, Lazarus House, with more than 250 beds “The shelter doesn’t open until suppertime,” he said, “so a lot of those people under the viaduct are waiting for that The police coh every couple of hours and chase folks away, but five ain”

Roger headed north another few blocks on Broadway, then angled left onto Central, another artery radiating out of don Like Broadway, Central had largely gone to seed, at least in this section, though its don stretch had gotten gentrified over the past couple of decades, the century-old brick buildings transformed into a two-block cluster of restaurants, bars, and boutiques called the Old City The northern boundary of the Old City was a clear and rough-hewn one: a bu, just before the White Lily flour mill and the Greyhound bus depot, another Knoxville crossroads for the doardly mobile

Roger turned left off of Central, taking us around the back side of the national ceround, its hundreds of graves marked by precise rows of identical white to perfect formation, even in death Just behind the ceer turned off-road again, jouncing onto a wide gravel service road that ran alongside the tracks On the left, the tracks bordered a row of industrial-looking buildings that I guessed to be reenery He stopped the Honda and leda broad, orn path The patch of woods was surprisingly large-it sprawled for fifty yards or so to the banks of First Creek Along the path, we passed shirts and pants hanging fros, heaps of trash and gar caer said “Probably two dozen people in here The railroad had soe of the trees back there, and there were people sleeping in the culverts, so the railroad called the police and asked them to clear the whole area”

“How do they do that? A bunch of cops coh with the loudspeaker on, telling the, or what?”

“It’s not quite that harsh,” he said “The police tell the encies they’re about to shut down a camp, so then the social workers coot stuff they don’t want to lose, they should pack up and leave beforehand The railroad’s already hauled the culverts to somewhere else, and the city will probably send a crew to clear out everything else here in a few days or weeks or months Meanwhile, the people find some other place to camp”

“The shell game?”

“The shell game”

We walked back to the Honda and bounced along the gravel, back toward town Up ahead, I could see the rear of the Salvation Ar concrete supports and decking of the I-40 viaduct We’d coh ere off-road still, a hundred yards west of Broadway, approaching a large graveled area beneath the interstate Earlier I’d been surprised at how athered under the viaduct where it crossed Broadway; noas astonished at the bustling scene taking shape It was almost as if I’d wandered down a staircase and found myself in the service tunnels hidden beneath Disney World-a realm I’d barely known existed, yet o

ne alive with people and activity

Dozens of cars and trucks were pulled off to one side of the graveled area beneath the viaduct, which hly the size of a football field Near the parked vehicles sat a steel storage unit, of the heavy, corrugated type carried by container ships The yellow container was labeled LOST SHEEP MINISTRIES, though if I’d been naram, I’d have called it “Worker Bee Ministries” or “Well-Oiled-Machine Ministries,” because I’d never seen such efficiency A steady strea adults, ferried folding chairs and tables fro a portable lectern or pulpit A bank of high-intensity lights-the sort used by highway construction crews at night-switched on, banishing the glooer and I watched, the space beneath the ru viaduct became an impromptu assembly hall, filled with dozens of tables and hundreds of chairs Several tables were set up end to end farther back fro these with restaurant-style steam tables, hundreds of soft drinks, stacks of sandwiches and potato chips

“This is aer “If the US military moved with this much speed and focus, we’d have been in and out of Iraq in one week”

He nodded

I caught a whiff of beef steafting from the steam table, and it smelled better than any of the convenience foods I’dband of hued on the food tables fro from the bushes and railroad tracks and sidewalks and streets-and began queuing up neatly for food One of the first in line was a young woirl who seerandsons The mother and children appeared clean and healthy, but they had a wary, weary look in their eyes, even the kids, and that grieved me-to see them beaten down so early in life Behind the steps; his head and right arm twitched periodically as he mumbled, steadily and incoherently, to himself or to some unseen companion

A public-address system crackled to life, and I heard a woman introduce herself over the noise of the traffic overhead as Maxine Raines, the founder of Lost Sheep Ministries She quoted a passage from the Bible-“Trust in the Lord with all thy heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding; in all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths”-and then proceeded to expound on it Maxine herself had been hoer told me Her brief seruided path had led to precisely this place, precisely this progra under the interstate Not everyone shared Maxine’s vision, according to Roger-sorams as “enablers,” crutches thatself-supporting But what jobs, I wondered, could some of these lost and broken souls do?

Maxine handed over theest drug dealers before finding God and cleaning up his life He was followed by a singer-a pretty young wouitar, and the sweet, si, “I si that’s of worth, that will bless your heart” I wasn’t sure howthe lyrics-most seemed more intent on what awaited them at the food tables or the tables ofand over-the-counter medications-but perhaps the words weren’t the e I remembered the inscription on Jess’s plaque at the Body Farm-WORK IS LOVE MADE VISIBLE-and I admired the compassion of this ar, even if they were treating sy the root causes of homelessness

Alun, the service-and the services-calers received their rations of stew and shoes and aspirin, the furniture brigade began folding and storing the chairs and tables The plates of food had been picked clean by the five hundred people who had converged on thees and the creek-side caht One of the last to wander off, I noticed, was the twitching,man I’d seen near the head of the food line As he shuffled toward the trees flanking the railroad tracks, ahie of the darkness

It was one of the Lost Sheep volunteers, I realized, probably concerned for theBut it could just as easily have been Garland Ha ht literally die for a drink

THE SURREAL scene beneath I-40 was still vivid in nored it, intent on the oval of pieced-together teed shard clasped in a pair of tweezers After half a dozen rings, the phone fell silent, then began clay, the one caller I couldn’t ignore I sighed, laying the larger segle piece back in the tray with countless other bits

“Hello, Peggy,” I grumbled

“Are we a tad gru?”

“We are,” I said “Sorry”