This from Theresa, who is interning at St. Anthony’s this summer:

The work that I do here at St. Anthony’s has given me such a profound appreciation for the things that I have in my life.  I find it fascinating how St.Anthony’s is able to meet so many needs of individuals and families in the Tenderloin. The amount of gratitude that the clients have for all the services that St.Anthony’s provides for the community is so eye opening. I have witnessed more dignity and respect  here at St. Anthony’s in a month, than I have in my 17 years on earth. I know I will carry this experience with me in the future.

There is something about serving that can make a bad day great.There are many days where  I can recall  not wanting to get up for work, commute to San Francisco,and walk in the (ice cold) summer air, but as soon as someone greets me with a smile or hello, I am more than ready  to serve and learn. Interning at the  Tenderloin Tech Lab and being able to slow down and work one on one with a client is so rewarding. A computer, something so simple and natural to me, is not as common to everyone. I am able to use a natural skill to help others and that feeling can not be expressed in words. Often, I find myself learning as I teach, the clients are so brilliant and I love hearing their stories because they have so much wisdom and strength within them. Once, I was helping an elderly man who was sitting on two seat cushions, as I stood next to him he reached and grabbed one to place in the chair beside him. “We can not start until the teacher is seated and comfortable!”, it was flattering, being that I am only 17 years old and my elder called me his teacher, not to mention the seat cushion was very comfortable.

This week’s entry was written by Derek, a junior at the University of Notre Dame and founding member of the Double Down sandwich fan club:

My jaw dropped when a gentleman whom I was helping draft a resume in the Tenderloin Tech lab told me where he got his high school diploma from. It took a second to register as I punched in the name of his school under the Education section of the word document that we were working on. “NO WAY”, I turned my chair to face him. “You’re from Ossining?” The man cracked a wide grin, “Born and raised!” I was completely blown away that here I was, in San Francisco, a new intern at St. Anthony’s who had never been to California before, sitting with a client in the third floor tech lab who just happened to used to live two streets down from the house that I grew up in. We laughed and gave each other a high five like we had just won the world-series (now both of us, being New Yorkers and fans of the Yankees, are no strangers to winning world-series.)

After that moment, it was as if we had known each other all our lives. We were all smiles as we swapped our experiences and memories about home, traded stories about how we got out to San Francisco, and mused about the small world that we live in. For a few minutes that day, my friend’s arduous job search became less stressful, and my nerves about being a stranger in a new town and a new workplace were gone. We were each a little bit of home for the other and we gave something to each other and traded encouragement and strength, not with specific words, but just because we were two guys from “O-town” who had found each other over two thousand five hundred miles away.

Finding that simple, natural connection with someone else and that feeling of solidarity with a complete stranger is the treasure of service. That gift is abundant at St. Anthony’s in interactions with clients and with the staff. Having experienced it already, I could not be more excited for my next six weeks here.

Today’s blog entry is from Derek Escalante, an intern in the Tenderloin Tech Lab this summer:

On Saturday June 19^th, the staff from the Tenderloin Tech Lab paired up with 8 volunteers and 9 Reliatech Computer Technicians to host another successful and fun Tech Fair. On the day of Tenderloin Tech Fair, which is hosted by the St. Anthony Foundation four times a year, guests of the foundation can come in and work with professionals on questions or problems related to computer technology. On Saturday, over a hundred clients attended San Francisco’s largest free tech help event. Over 25 individuals brought in their personal computers to be diagnosed and repaired by the talented professionals, while others were able to participate in advanced computer skills courses, have personal one-on-one tutoring for specific questions, and access a wealth of resources. Clients were able to receive help from tech gurus in everything from word processing to Facebook to advanced web design. Over the years, the Tech Fair has become a hot item in the Tenderloin; word has spread quickly among clients about the free event, as the majority of clients indicated that they heard about the Tech Fair through word of mouth or from staff at the St. Anthony Dining Room. With such incredible resources available and the help of great people– all for free!- the high client turnout on Saturday makes it clear that the tech fair is the place to be.

After several weeks on hiatus, the weekly “From the Intern Desk…” blog series is back in full swing!  This week’s entry is from Jason, a Junior at University of Notre Dame and intern in the Tenderloin Tech Lab this summer:

As I walked into St. Anthony’s on my first full day of work as a new summer intern, I eagerly awaited what my day would hold. After entering the Tenderloin Tech Lab on the third floor, I learned I would be helping teach the Basic Computer Skills class, a 12-class program for people with little or no computer experience. I quickly flashed back to my middle school computer classes, remembering countless hours of typing, learning the home keys on a keyboard, my first web design using HTML, and the years of fidgeting with my laptop, discovering all of the eccentricities of Windows XP.

I received my first laptop in sixth grade as the first class of a now school-wide laptop program. As any self-proclaimed computer nerd would do, I quickly familiarized myself with the new hardware and learned the new programs that came pre-installed in our machines. Computing had become second nature to me and I soon found myself being called upon to fix my parents’ or brothers’ computers when they weren’t working properly. I had mastered the basics without even recognizing them as skills that needed mastery.

Flash forward to the Basic Computer Skills class and the students are learning the differences between files and folders, how to use a web browser, and how to open their first email accounts. Things that had been so simple for me—so basic—were difficult skills that required practice and effort before they could be mastered. As we worked on creating and saving new Word documents, one student inquired, “but why are we doing this? I’ve got a pen and pencil right here!” As I grappled to come up with an answer that didn’t include a philosophical discussion detailing society’s expectancy for everyone to be computer savvy, I realized that technology—that which is supposed to make our lives easier—doesn’t always carry through on its promises.

We celebrate our iPhones because we they allow us to do things that were never before possible.  But are they making our lives easier? When I watch my friends frantically pounding out emails on their BlackBerries over Sunday brunch, I can’t help but think that their lives were never as complicated or stressful as they are now that they are masters of, and slaves to, technology. It seems as if our idolized devices have become the rulers of the world, and we their abiding customers.

Don’t get me wrong; I love being a member of Generation Google. Moreover, I’m absolutely thrilled to spend my next eight weeks helping people learn how to use technology to make their lives easier. Clients are learning to create and edit resumes, search for jobs on the internet, and get in touch with distant friends and relatives. But as I celebrate each small victory with the students—using their first flash drive, sending their first email, making their first Facebook profile, to name a few—I’m reminded that technology is here to serve us, not the other way around.

By Florence, St. Anthony Foundation intern with the Social Work Center and the Justice Education, Volunteer and Advocacy program.

Last Wednesday was a day to remember. Partially because I had to get up at 5:30 am during my first week of summer vacation but mostly because I had the privilege of fighting for a meaningful cause alongside some of the most passionate and inspiring individuals I had ever met. It was the much-anticipated Hunger Action Day in Sacramento.

During the hearing held in the Capitol Building, testimonies were heard from youths, single-mothers, former addicts, homeless individuals, and other voices that were united on that day in a fight for a basic necessity and human right: food. In fact, two of the members from our very own Father Alfred Center delivered very powerful and insightful testimonies drawn from their personal experiences with addiction and recovery. I think a lot of us, and many of the legislators as well, were humbled by these stories, from those who have experienced first-hand, or are in imminent risk of, hunger. The testimonies were personal and touching, but most importantly, they were strong and demanding.

So were our messages during meetings with individual legislators. But it was during that time I began questioning about our effectiveness at conveying those very messages—ones about advocating for the extension of food stamp privileges to individuals with drug-related felonies and the expansion of food stamp/EBT acceptance in farmer’s markets, among others. I don’t know if it was from my frustration with the knowledge about the failure of those bills passing in the state legislature year after year or the seeming nonchalance of legislators about our presence and the issues at hand, but I felt that the gulf between the bureaucracy and the constituency is too enormous for our voices to fill.

But even more puzzling was how I went back home feeling hopeful and certain that we left an impression that day. Was it the pitch of desperation I heard in people’s testimonies? The hint of compassion in an otherwise cold bureaucracy? Or was it everyone’s exhausted but smiling faces on the bus ride back? The more I reflect the more I’m certain it was the spirit of everyone who was there that made the day so worthwhile. Just as Katie wrote in her January reflection on the “Homelessness Ends with a Home” march, I realize how much the opportunity to voice their opinions mean to so many people, and how much of an honor it had been for me to be in the same fight with them.

We made a lot of noise that day. I am sure that we were heard.

Ed. Note: This week’s entry was written by Clarissa, a Media/Communications intern who has spent her spring semester at St. Anthony Foundation.

I’ve been interning at St. Anthony’s since January and, unbelievable as it is, my time as an intern will be coming to an end in just two weeks. I have gained so much through this semester and my time at St. Anthony’s: transferable career skills, relationships with staff, volunteers and guests and an understanding of poverty.

I don’t want to get too sentimental just yet since I still have two weeks left and I’ve never been good at goodbyes, but I remember walking to the corner of Golden Gate and Jones for my internship interview and knowing that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I remember I was nervous and apprehensive, after all I’d heard all these stories about the terrifying Tenderloin, and I here I was walking to my interview with directions written on my hand in case I got lost.

Now the walk to Golden Gate and Jones is one of the most enjoyable parts of my day. I’m offered a dozen good mornings, a chat with safety services and a hug from Indian Joe. I’ve gained a lot during my time as an intern, but I think I’ve lost even more: assumptions and stereotypes, pride and ignorance, and above all fear. I want to take the lessons from my internship here and carry them with me wherever I go: back home, back to college and into my future as unknown and vague as it is.

Ed. Note: This week’s entry is written by Ryan Hall, a current intern at St. Anthony Foundation.

Sometimes the most profound experience of the Divine occurs in the most unexpected place. Since I began my internship at St. Anthony’s last fall, my usual mode of transit is through the Civic Center BART and for nearly seven months one man has been capturing my fascination, Melvin the violin man. If you’ve been through there, you know exactly who I am talking about. His appearance is much like those of many homeless individuals who have few resources to take care of themselves, tattered and dirty clothes, missing teeth, and carrying everything he owns. Yet, he is by no means ordinary. Melvin is in the BART station nearly every time I go through there and he is always playing a violin, always smiling and occasionally dancing. There is one caveat however; his music is not typical by any means. To the trained and untrained ear, Melvin’s music often sounds like fingernails on a chalk board. When I first saw him I thought he was just trying to be funny to make a buck, as all the strings on his violin were clearly broken. Whether it’s drugs, mental illness or inspiration, I do not know, but as the months went by I realized that Melvin really believed he was playing something beautiful. He even has sheet music that he appears to have written, and occasionally stops playing in order to edit it for just the right notes. His concertos are truly unique!

When I see him however, many questions come to mind. We live in a society that often places primary value on a person through their wealth, fame, professional skill or advanced knowledge, yet Melvin doesn’t quite fit into any of these categories. His music will never get him a record contract and most likely he will never be famous and make millions (though he is fairly popular on YouTube).

If this is how society frequently judges people, I often wonder, where does Melvin fit, not to mention all those we serve at St. Anthony’s? As a Christian, I believe every human being is loved by God and therefore has inherent human dignity and value that can never be taken away. Each time I see Melvin, I am reminded of this. Melvin challenges our culture to look beyond our superficial values and see the person for who they really are. They have nothing else to offer, but themselves. Melvin tries to offer his skill, knowing that is what his culture wants if his life is to have value, but his skill is frequently not appreciated. Nevertheless, when I walk by I am able to recognize his true value, which is so much greater than anything our society could place on him. Sometimes, I imagine that he really is playing a beautiful piece of music, certainly God can hear it. I thank God for Melvin each time I see him because without him, I may not recognize humanity’s true value and the divine presence in each one of us.

Ed. Note: This week’s entry is written by Jennifer, a Bonner Leader from Saint Mary’s College who is spending her second semester with St. Anthony’s as a member of the Guest Services team:

Since I first walked down the ramp in the Dining Room on one sunny day in early September, I have had many experiences that have changed my outlook on life. I come from a very small town and had never worked with homeless people prior to entering St. Anthony’s. I could write at length about each experience and how it has affected me, but I will do you, as the reader, a favor and keep this blog a reasonable brief.

A diverse group of people walk down the Dining Room ramp every day, and they all have one thing in common: poverty. Each individual is in a different situation and level of poverty, yet these contrasting traits hold no overbearing significance once he or she walks through the doors of the Dining Room. Each person is unique and helps to form the community of St. Anthony’s. Each person is treated with respect.

I recently had the opportunity to spend the day delivering meals to the homebound folks in the neighborhood. I was stunned by the terrible conditions the SROs (most common housing arrangement in the TL) are in. Now that I have seen where many of our guests live and have taken into account that, for some of them, this is the only meal of the day, I have come to admire and respect them even more than before. It is amazing to see these individuals come down to the Dining Room with such positive attitudes.

I often find myself complaining about silly things, like how much homework I have or how I ate too much at dinner. Never once had I formerly stopped to think about those in the Tenderloin and the rest of the world that are not as fortunate. When I see the smiles on their faces, it is a reminder for me to appreciate all the commodities I have in my life. These individuals are my inspiration.

Ed. Note: This week’s entry was written by Florence, who has been working with us since September 2009. Florence is a student at Berkeley and spends much of her time and talents finding ways to support St. Anthony programs and clients. Below is just a sampling of her experiences thus far:

@ the Social Work Center:

Registering clients for food stamps can get depressing, especially when they really need the extra help but are not qualified because they earn “too much.” Here’s a dilemma I came across recently: a client gets a monthly benefit of $925 in SSI but has to pay a $900 monthly rent. She is left with $25 for all her other expenses. She doesn’t have enough to cover even her basic needs but is ineligible for food stamps because she is on SSI.

@ the Clothing Program:

During the past holiday season, I had the privilege of organizing clothing drives at the University of San Francisco and the Shinnyo-en Buddhist Head Temple in Redwood City. A USF student and I scattered donation bins all around campus and the temple in November as we also educated others about the acute plight of the homeless during the winter months. Between USF and Shinnyo-en, we collected more than 30 large bags of clothes and shoes in just a few weeks! To learn about how to organize your own Clothing Drive for St. Anthony foundation, click here!

@ the Intern Room:

“Go home, Florence,” or some rendition of that, chimes every Friday at 5pm. “Five more minutes” is my practiced reply, but there is no doubt I’d rather stay the whole night. There are simply too many temptations in this room. Shelves of books, books, heavenly books! Topics range from poverty to spirituality to business, making sure interns do not, and can not, cry from boredom. Even the intern desk is stacked to the nines with books like San Francisco Tenderloin, Street Sheet, Voices From the Heart, and Social Welfare at a Crossroads, two of which I checked out to read without time constraint…(and yes! interns can check books out, too!). But books are not all the intern room has to offer. There are also binders full of studies and research on homelessness, policies, mental health and the like!

What more can I say, I love this place!

Ed. Note: This week’s entry was written by Ryan, a JEVA intern and student with the Franciscan School of Theology:

Last week on Ash Wednesday began the season of Lent. It is generally thought of in terms of penance and fasting leading eventually to the Easter time of celebration. This season is a good reminder that as with many things in life and faith, the way to joy and celebration can lead through the path of pain or suffering. Christ certainly dealt with that, but I also see that in the men that go through the Fr. Alfred Center, a year-long drug and alcohol rehab center at St. Anthony’s.

Twice a week, I am blessed to listen to the stories of those making their way through the Father Alfred Center program who struggle daily with the disease of addiction. These men come to share their stories with not just me, but usually a group of twenty or more from high schools, colleges, and other career organizations. They often reveal their inner most pain and weaknesses as they share their immense struggles battling with their disease. Prison, homelessness, poverty, violence, knife and gun wounds, broken relationships, loss of dignity, shame and regret have been their unwelcome companions on their journey. For many it has taken years to recognize their addictive illness as the source of their misfortunes and often times even more years to admit that they cannot get well on their own. When that time comes however, their season of Lent begins especially once they begin at the Father Alfred Center. Certainly there is suffering as they fight their illness, but what I hear more often is that the healing process provides for them a time to examine how their illness has influenced their past decisions, and how it has affected those around them and themselves. They begin to accept the past, recognize where they failed to love others or themselves, ask forgiveness and learn to forgive themselves. Eventually, they begin to dream about the exciting future possibilities for their life. Their journey through pain and suffering is nothing to celebrate, and yet it contains the seeds of joy and brings them to their Easter!

I think we can learn a lot from these men and their Lenten journey. As human beings, we are most truly human when we become what we were created for, to love and to serve God by loving and serving each other, and their season of Lent is bringing them back to that sense of wholeness and purpose. They struggle with a disease that is very misunderstood in our society as choice and illness become intertwined. However, like any disease, it involves a period of recovery and for them their prescription for health requires a lot of soul searching and brutal honesty. Each time I listen to them I’m astounded at their courage to share their vulnerabilities with so many people. Do I have the strength to admit, even to myself, my own weaknesses and failings? These men and this season remind me that it is in my best interest to do so. Lent is very real for them and evident in their words, and they challenge me to make Lent real in my own life. Too often, I let this season go by without really examining where my life is headed, where I failed to love others, where I need to ask forgiveness. Yet, Christ reminds us that, “unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.” (Jn 12:24) As these men make their Lenten journey, I am challenged to journey with them during this season. What needs to die in me so that when Easter comes it will be a time to rejoice because Lent has remade me and produced as much good fruit in me as I see in the men at the Fr. Alfred Center?