Fall 2009

St. Francis House: 25 years on Rangeline Street, so far

In June, 1984, a group of young people dedicated to the idea that we should work to create a world where the hungry are fed
and the homeless have a place to sleep at night, purchased a large brick house at the corned of Wilkes Boulevard and Rangeline
Street in north central Columbia, Missouri. A quarter century later, a less young group of folks still try to live the Catholic Worker
philosophy: practice the works of mercy, live as Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount, comfort the afflicted and afflict the
comfortable. Through highs and lows, we have held the moments of joy and comedy close to our hearts, especially in times when
disappointment, loss or idiocy threaten our fragile grasp on reality. This past June, we celebrated our 25th Anniversary with friends and
guests with a barbeque and concert in the park featuring Steve Jacobs, members of his band, the Mere Mortals, and other friends.

Friends Fred and Betty

Weisel, Fr. Simon-Felix
Michalski, and Bill and
Rachel Spollen
enjoy the concert in
Field Park at the St.
Francis anniversary
celebration. That’s St.
Francis House in the
back left.
(see more photos
inside at p. 3)
 Celebrating 25 years of St. Francis House

Musicians Paul Grace, Jim Borwick, Steve Jacobs and Steve Ansager jam in Field Park
to celebrate the 25th Anniversary of St. Francis House at 901 Rangeline.

From left, Linda Brown,

Missy Parker, Jordan
O’Donnell, Steve Barrett
and Larry Brown kick
back and listen to the
concert in the park while
celebrating our 25 years
at St. Francis House.
 Witnessing in the Desert:
Sharing Voices from Gaza
By Maureen Doyle
"I am Abdullah. I live in Gaza. Don't shell
me." These are the words that 6-year old Abdullah (not his
real name; all the names in this story have been changed)
wrote for a writing assignment at his school. When asked
by his father why he chose these particular words, Abdullah
explained that he planned to save the paper and give it to
the Israeli soldiers the next time they came to a road block.
Abdullah's father was just one of the many
people I had the privilege to meet when I traveled to the
Gaza Strip in March, 2009, with the group Code Pink. We
went there as a response to a 3-week assault on Gaza by
the Israeli military from December 27, 2008 to January 18,
2009.
"We spent seven minutes waving the [white]
flags, and our faces were looking at the soldiers. Suddenly
they opened fire and the girls fell to the ground." Thus said
Amal to representatives of Human Rights Watch as she
described how the Israeli soldiers ordered her family out of
their home, then shot and killed her granddaughters Jasmin,
age 2, and Mona, age 7.
The assault on Gaza came, according to the
government of Israel, as a response to the firing of rockets
from Gaza into Israeli territory. These acts, which killed 22
Israeli civilians from 2000-2008, are clearly immoral and
indefensible. In response to these rocket firings the
government of Israel bombed and invaded Gaza, killing
1,500 people in three weeks, 400 of whom were children.
"During the War" (this is the term Palestinians
use to refer to the assault) "everyone in our family slept in
the same room," Ali, a middle-aged gentleman, told me.
"Was that because it was the safest room in the
house?" I asked him.
"No," he replied, "it was so that, if a bomb fell,
we would all die together."
According to Human Rights Watch, about 475
trucks full of supplies need to enter Gaza every day to take
care of its 1.5 million inhabitants, 50% of whom are children
and 80% of whom are unemployed. Only about 130 trucks
are allowed to enter daily, and hundreds of truckloads sit
rotting on the Egyptian side of the border. Cement and
building materials are not permitted to enter, making it
impossible to rebuild the 5,000 homes that were destroyed.
The Palestinian Centre on Human Rights, in its
report "War Crimes Against Children", tells about the family
of Emir and Raseh. When their 4th floor apartment was
shelled one night during the offensive, people scrambled in
the dark to get themselves and their children to safety.
Once outside, Raseh and Emir searched frantically for their
children Mazin and Nada. Eventually the children's bodies
were found high in the limbs of a tree next to what had been
their home.
During my trip to Gaza I happened to stop in a
curio shop one afternoon. One of the items in the shop was
a coffee mug with prison bars painted on the side with the
words "Gaza: World's Largest Prison" printed above. The
Gaza Strip is commonly referred to this way, and it aptly
describes the state of siege under which its residents live.
The borders are tightly controlled and it is extremely difficult,
sometimes impossible, for the Palestinians to leave.
“During the war, everyone in our family
slept in the same room, so that if a bomb
fell, we would all die together.”
The fortunate few who are allowed to leave often
find they cannot return, or if they do return are denied
permission to leave again. Many types of goods necessary
for day-to-day life are not allowed in.
If you receive this newsletter it is likely that you,
like those of us at the Catholic Worker, have a passion for
justice. So please put that passion to work and do what you
can for the people of Gaza. You can educate yourself
about the situation (Code Pink's web site is a good place to
start), pray for the people of Gaza, go there yourself with a
delegation, support someone who is going, and contact
your legislators to ask them to end the siege on Gaza. That
way no more 6-year olds will feel compelled to carry a paper
saying, "I am Abdullah. I live in Gaza. Don't shell me.”
 Miraculous Events at St. Francis House!
By Steve Jacobs
“Wow! This footprint is better than an image of
Jesus burnt onto a grilled cheese sandwich,” I thought to
myself. “And it’s right here on the carpet at the foot of the
stairs, where nobody can miss it.”
I saw it one day after returning from a trip out of
town. Next to it was a new and rather large irregular shaped
stain to which even a Rorschach test interpreter would find
difficulty attaching any significance.
I thought, “This is what happens when I’m gone.
Whoever has the house lets the guests eat in the living
room instead of at the dining room table (even though
there’s plenty of room there). Inevitably someone suffering a
spasm, lameness or simple carelessness spills food on the
carpet. Looking at the large ugly stain next to the footprint, I
repressed the urge to burst into tears and scream, “You
see, this is why we can’t have nice things!” but I realized
that Dorothy Day probably never bemoaned the lack of nice,
stainless things in her life.
Our carpet has been a minor source of embarrass-
ment to me for many years. Normally, I just shrug it off as
the cost of hospitality because living is a messy business.
When donors come to our door who live in more affluence
than we, I sometimes sense their unease and see their eyes
drawn to the large stains on the rug. After ten years of
slopping food, mud and residue from the walnut and
mulberry trees on it, our carpet bears the evidence of a lot
of hard living, some of which I assume thrives at a
microscopic level between the fibers. We had it steam
cleaned professionally three years ago to try and remove
the many stains but the guy who did the job told us
afterwards that we should’ve had it Scotch-guarded after
laying it, so the steam would work. But alas, we are left with
numerous human stains from which we strive to derive
meaning and significance.
I’ve encouraged the other Catholic Workers in the
community to direct our homeless guests not to eat over the
carpet unless there is no room left at the table nor picnic
table nor porch. But this peculiar idea seems to only
resonate with me. I have noticed however, a corresponding
decrease in permanent stains when food hits the linoleum
instead of the carpet. It almost gives me a perverse delight
when something splatters on the dining room floor instead
of the carpet because the pessimist in me knows that it
could be so much worse.
But with stains too numerous to count, I sense the
other CW’s are resigned to the futility of preventing more
dietary thrills and spills. I try not to be judgmental about this.
Maybe they are using these accidents to identify and
diagnose equilibrium abnormalities in our guests. Plus, to
be fair, there are hardly any places left, worthy of protection.
Until now!
Now, we may have Jesus’ footprint on our rug!
And, if any of the traditions and legends of Christianity are
true: that Jesus sometimes comes to us, disguised as a
poor beggar, why take the chance of somebody spilling
something on top of, what to me at least, is a holy relic, ie:
evidence of Christ among us? So I will continue to steer our
guests to spots around the table and away from the carpet
and to attempt to find meaning and significance in the stains
upon the St. Francis House carpet. And if I ever get up to
the gates of heaven and I’m asked for evidence that I fed
the hungry, I will point to the stains thereon.
I’ve taken the liberty of covering the sacred (to me,
at least) footprint with a small throw rug which incidentally,
also covers the large amorphous stain next to it. Come over
sometime, and I will show them to you.
When I see the stained footprint, I sometimes think
of the well known poem called “Footprints in the Sand.” But
when I see the other stain, I like to think of it as a butt print
because it reminds me of a poem I found on the internet
which I offer for your edification:
Butt Prints in the Sand
One night I had a wondrous dream
One set of footprints that were seen
The footprints of my precious Lord,
But mine were not along the shore.
But then some strange prints appeared,
And I asked the Lord, “What have we here?
Those prints are large and round and neat
“But Lord, they are too big for feet.”
“My child,” He said in somber tones,
“For miles I carried you along.
I challenged you to walk in faith,
But you refused and made me wait.”
“You disobeyed, you would not grow,
The walk of faith you would not know,
So I got tired, I got fed up,
And there I dropped you on your butt.
“Because in life there comes a time
When one must fight and one must climb
When one must rise and take a stand,
Or leave their butt prints on the sand.
Tragedies and miracles often come in threes and
the appearance of the sacred footprint isn’t the only miracle
we’ve experienced at St. Francis Catholic Worker. The
second is the shattering of our inertia in taking up the
construction of more rooms at our house. (cont on p 5)
 (cont from p 4 ) This year we’ve stopped the
leaking roof, finished the wiring, connected the ductwork,
roughed in plumbing and insulated the outer walls. We’re
ready to start drywalling. If trends continue at this pace we
may be able to move folks into new rooms by the first of the
year! This is terribly exciting for us as we were in disarray
for the last couple years;
We have so many people to thank for this. We
thank Gary Van Riper and Eric Bassett who, with their
friends, connected the ducts in the crawl space, in the new
addition and finished up the wiring. Blessings also to Matt
and Kathy Concannon who’ve been paying our mortgage at
the men’s house the last two years and Fr. Vince Linnebur
who left us enough money in his will to finish this project.
Billy Melvin and his son are going to finish our bathrooms
and “Carpet” Ron will install tiles and flooring once we get
the drywall done. City Lights has donated light fixtures to
be installed and so things are coming together in a
miraculous way.
The third miracle is that we finally convinced
William Blackwell to get eye surgery to fix his cataracts. He
was convinced that if he let a surgeon work on him they
would remove his eyeballs. He was functionally blind and
increasingly inactive but with one eye fixed and the other
scheduled soon, he’ll soon be back to his former role as
“Watchdog Willie” reporter of suspicious and odd activities.
What I did on my Summer Vacation
Bernd and Sabine Buescher of the Dortmund,
Germany, Catholic Worker invited me to attend the annual
European CW gathering near Dulmen Germany. So I saved
up my pennies and due to the desperation of the airline
industry, I was able to get a round trip ticket for about $670
to Amsterdam. And since I compose, record and perform
folk music and am a peace activist, Bernd and fellow CW’s
in Hamburg set up about a dozen places for me to perform
and speak on the state of the peace movement since
Obama’s election.
I spent a few days in Amsterdam with Frits ter
Kuile and the Amsterdam CW and then we trained over to
Dulmen for 3 days. I spent a week at the Bread and Roses
CW in Hamburg and did three performances there as a
guest of Dietrich and Uta Gerster. We had good German
Beer and a special treat was the 900 year anniversary of
the Hamburg harbor celebration and a trip with Deitrich, Uta
and their 3 boys to the Baltic coast to romp on the beach.
Then I took the train to Dortmund where Bernd had
set up music and speaking engagements in Cologne,
Hagen, Paderborn, Dortmund and a side trip to Munich. I
toured the cathedral in Cologne, visited an Emmaus
Community, and got to visit the college in Munich where the
White Rose resistance group worked to resist Nazism
during WWII. They leafletted their fellow students and were
arrested, tried and executed. Thanks to Barbara
Fredmueller for showing me around Munich. She did her
national service at the Milwaukee Catholic Worker in the
70’s. Then back to Dortmund for several gigs including folk
music at the Kana Soup Kitchen and the Dortmund City Jail
for about 40 inmates. Then it was back to Amsterdam CW
with a side trip to Alkmar to see Jim and Nancy Forest.
Steve Jacobs on his European Vacation
I toured the WWII Resistance Museum in
Amsterdam and toured the canals and rode a bike like a
real European through the streets of Amsterdam.
CW’s there and in Germany work primarily with
refugees and immigrants trying to get documents so they
can live a decent life and escape poverty in Africa, Asia or
Eastern Europe. European CW’s remind me of the
immigration activists in the Southwest US. The
criminalization of immigrants and the poor is not only a US
phenomena but a worldwide trend, as the wealthy put
barricades around their hardened hearts and national
borders. European CW’s are lovely people and you should
visit them if you can.
The CW movement is alive and well in Europe. I
actually got paid for my performances and sold all of my
CDs which helped to cover my expenses. I also want to
thank several Columbia Missouri folks who kicked in $ for
my trip, including Virginia Bzdek, Jim Borwick, Victoria Day,
Ed Kinane, Ann Tiffany, Margaerite Knapke, Ruth Guthrie
and others. It was a great trip and the opportunity of a
lifetime.-Steve Jacobs
 How William Got his Sight Back: A short
glance at a our myopic heath care policy
By Ruth O’Neill
I hadn't heard it much lately: that tap on my door
followed by Rusty's rousing bark, announcing that William
had come to call. Rusty barks whenever someone knocks,
but when William is at the door, he spins in little circles in
front of the door until I open it. Today, there he was, in all
his dapper plaid glory, shock of white hair standing up tall,
his bright blue eyes shining and, for the first time in a long
while, actually focusing on my face as I opened the door.
"Hey, Ruth," he said, "watcha doin in the
mornin?" --a familiar opening line in our routine, the one
where William tries to get me to take him to breakfast, or
the grocery store, or the dollar store or on some other
errand. He's good at it; we go out at least once a week.
If you've ever visited St. Francis House in
Columbia, MO, you've met William. He's been a fixture of
the place for over 20 years. He greets every visitor
cheerfully, often offering them coffee, a cigarette or a
sandwich. He has been here longer than most of the
workers.
William's eyes were shining that day because he
had a cataract removed recently. He is luckier than most
of the guys living with us at St. Francis House. An affable
schizophrenic with a documented medical history, William
gets Medicaid.
Getting William's eye fixed wasn't easy. William
has long suffered from an intense fear that a doctor will
cut his eyes out. So we first had to convince him that
having surgery was okay. On top of that, William's
cataracts couldn't be taken out with a laser, they required
conventional surgery.
Other health problems made doctors hesitant to
operate. Some other folks even seemed to believe it
wouldn’t make much difference to his "quality of life".
Eventually a doctor agreed to remove the
cataract from one eye. By the time you read this he will
have had surgery for his second eye. Already William is
telling everyone the details of what he can see. He is
braver about walking around the neighborhood, now that
he can see to avoid falling. And whoever gave William that
casino token instead of a quarter when they bought a
cigarette from him on the front porch better beware:
William can tell the difference again, and if they pull
another stunt like that, he is likely to cut them off.
When I hear the ravings about health care
reform, I realize how lucky William is: he can actually
access medical care. We see a lot of guys on the street
who can't get that kind of help.
Medicaid is a federal program that operates out
of a combination of federal and state funds; each state
has a say in who they will allow into the program.
Missouri's guidelines make it extremely difficult for adults
to receive coverage. Children, because of the SCHIP
program, can be covered in low and moderate income
families, either directly or by paying SCHIP premiums, and
pregnant women with incomes up to 185% of the federal
poverty guidelines are covered too. Disabled adults and
low income senior citizens only qualify if their income is
les than 85% of the poverty line. Non-disabled, sighted
adults are not eligible for Medicaid in Missouri unless they
are parents of minor children AND their income is not
more than 21% of the federal poverty line.
Of all the folks living on the streets in Columbia,
veterans have the best shot at getting health care. They
can access the local VA hospital, although some of them
wait forever to be seen. Yet another cost of our insatiable
addiction to war is that the VA system is being strained to
the limit by the ever increasing stream of veterans who
need physical and psychological care.
Health care is a basic human right. No one
should be denied medical care because of their age,
ethnicity, gender or economic status. This point seems to
be lost as the debate rages on about whether and how to
reform the health care system in our country. Special
interests vested in the status quo have launched a storm
of misinformation about the consequences of universal
coverage.
In the meantime, well-meaning people get swept
away by the lies and forget that we have 47 million people
in this country whose basic right to health care hangs in
the balance. We need to challenge those who want to
keep our current health care system in all its dysfunctional
squalor. A few folks, like William, may be able to get past
the bureaucratic gatekeepers and get some help, some of
the time. Many will not.
Why is it easier to make William see again than it
is for us to see 47 million uninsured brothers and sisters?
What will it take to challenge our politicians into seeing
them as well?
$ $ $ $ $ $
In Memoriam
Please remember in your prayers those friends and
guests who have recently died, including these priests
who lived the Word, and not just preached it: Fr. Bill Forst
and Fr. Lorenzo Rosebaugh, and for Iowa CW Mike Fuller.
Healthcare, A Choice We Need to Make population needs to make before we can really
By Zach Rubin begin to move towards comprehensive, universal
care.
The healthcare debate in our country Zach is a regular volunteer at St. Francis
has heated up close to the boiling point. Voices House. He is working on a master’s degree in
geography at the University of Missouri-Columbia.
from both sides of the political aisle, as well as
up, down and all around are screaming their
opinions about what the future of medicine in the
United States should look like. Some want
Universal Healthcare like the British or the
Canadians have. Such a system would ensure
that everybody gets fair access to healthcare, but
it is a total pipe dream in a country where health
insurance is one of the largest industries. Others
recoil at the notion, calling it socialism. I call it a
fair chance.
Where economic libertarians espouse
fears of heath care “rationing” under universal
coverage, I would note that healthcare is already
rationed in this country. Every other developed
country on the planet, provides universal access
to care, but their citizens often have to wait for
care if their need is a non-emergency. In our
country, you can get care right away…as long as
(Found hanging on the front of the St. Francis
you have money. If you do not, then you have to House refrigerator)
wait until the condition is so bad that the only
option is the emergency room. If you have a low-
income and are disabled you can apply for social Convenience
security, a process which often takes months By Rachael Krall
while conditions worsen. Detractors are right,
then, to be scared that care could be rationed in Convenience can be a wonderful thing. I
this country. But like most other developed personally like the fact that I live down the street
countries, that care would be rationed by time - from a convenience store where I can get a soda
not money. But if there is going to be rationing of along with a couple of those little things we have
care regardless, is it fair, is it moral that those come to think we need. These places sell
who are the most affluent get to jump to the head everything from paper towels to milk, but at a
of the line? The answer is most certainly no. We higher price than at the supermarket. When I
live in the richest country in the world. Other, pick up my prescription at the pharmacy, I can
less affluent nations have made healthcare a also pick up school supplies for my son, perhaps
priority. With the degree of wealth we have in the paying a bit more for the privilege. We who have
United States, it is time that we join all these resources rely on convenience and use it
other countries in declaring that health care is no regularly.
longer just a privilege, but a basic human right. There is another side to our society’s
Opponents say that this harms our focus on convenience. All too often, we
potential for growth and prosperity, when really a encounter people in need of help, who discover
healthy population is essential for such a thing. that the locations and operating hours of
How we value the sick is a choice that we in the assisting agencies are not convenient for them.
United States need to make. Whatever happens There is no one-stop shopping for people who
politically this year regarding reform will likely be need assistance from multiple agencies sprinkled
a first step in the right direction, but caring for our over our ever growing town. (cont. on p. 8)
neighbors and friends is a step that the entire
(cont. from p.7)
One of the ways we Catholic Workers
help is by providing access to a phone to contact
different agencies, and if necessary, help in
making the calls. Another is by driving people
around town so they can access the services
they need. When agencies are miles apart,
people without transportation feel helpless,
especially when they have small children to tend
to. Their outlook becomes bleak until they find
help.
Convenience can make our daily lives
run smoother. However, perhaps this is an
opportune time to consider the inconveniences
people in need encounter on their journey. So,
next time you benefit from conveniences you
enjoy in your life, also ponder how people in
need often do not benefit from the very
conveniences we often take for granted. It can be
the first step to empathy toward the people most
in need of help.

House Needs
Coffee, sugar, tea bags, flour, fresh/canned fruits and vegetables, towels, pillows, toothbrushes, toothpaste,
men’s underwear, men’s socks, gloves, razors, deodorant, hand lotion, cough drops, combs, bandages,
travel sized soaps and shampoos, cleaning supplies, cash donations and, as always, your prayers.

Yxxw à{x {âÇzÜçN Z|äx wÜ|Ç~ àÉ à{x à{|ÜáàçN f{xÄàxÜ à{x {ÉÅxÄxááN VÄÉà{x à{x Çt~xwN
i|á|à à{x |ÅÑÜ|áÉÇxwN VtÜx yÉÜ à{x á|v~N UâÜç à{x wxtwA

St. Francis Catholic Worker

1001 Rangeline Street
Columbia, MO 65201