The air was frigid and the ground smothered in snow. As they pulled up behind Holt Middle School in the $50, rust-covered, 1958 burgundy Oldsmobile, both Tammie Harder and her boyfriend Randy Giggin had one thing in mind- sleep. With nowhere else to go on this January day and Tammie's two children staying with Mike Harder, her soon-to-be ex-husband, her sister gave them permission to sleep over.
But, when Tammie's sister, Christy Wiley, who could not be reached for comment, came home drunk, the couple found themselves scrambling to their car.
"She got mad that (Randy) was in the house and chased him out, barefoot, with a shovel and a broom," said Tammie, 23. "She started beating on our car and said we couldn't be there."
Like Tammie, on any given night, an estimated 750,000 people nationally and 41,300 in Michigan have no permanent roof over their heads or are within a week of being homeless, according to the National Alliance to End Homelessness, a non-profit group focused on addressing the root causes of homelessness.
In Lansing alone, that number hovers around 300-700 people nightly and might be rising, according to 2002 U.S. Census figures. Since 2001, the Midwest was the only region of America to see a rising poverty rate, up about 1 percent.
Similar to Tammie and her boyfriend, most homeless have little money and no jobs. They have to be flexible when they run out of places to stay.
Following the incident at Wiley's home, Tammie and Randy, without the responsibility of watching the children, drove to Holt Middle School, where they spent the night fighting against the biting cold. Only blankets and the auto's shoddy insulation provided protection.
"Every 15 minutes or so I was like, 'Turn the car on, turn the heat on!'" she said. "I was worried the cops were going to come and knock on the window and be, like, 'What are you doing?'"
The night passed without incident, though sleep was scarce. Tammie estimates only three 1/2 hours of sleep, interspersed between episodes of shivering.
For some people in the same situation, with no friends or family or even a car to give shelter, the streets become their homes and steaming sewer vents their space heaters.
Fortunately for Tammie, who has been in and out of homeless shelters three times, this was the only instance she slept without a roof over her head.
In similar situations, the outgoing and articulate mother found a relative or friend to stay with, or was accepted into Haven House, one of 23 homeless shelters in the Greater Lansing Area.
She is currently living there with her daughter, Baylie. Her son, Austin, lives with his paternal grandparents.
Laughing, she recalls waking up that morning after sleeping in the car.
"I had fallen asleep and when I woke up I had the door thing, where you pull the door shut, indented on my face.
"It was there for two hours and trying to walk around so where no one could see - it was pretty embarrassing."
A long, winding road
Tammie understands the stereotypes that come with being homeless. She admits as a child, she "would picture them as a dirty person."
Beverly Wiener, executive director of Haven House, said the public's perception of the homeless is more than just "dirty."
People usually think of the homeless as the drunks and drug-abusers, a belief that was much more valid years ago than today, Wiener said.
Though a percentage of the homeless fall into that category, most are simply struggling financially and having a difficult time making ends meet, Weiner said.
Often, homeless people barely survive on low-paying jobs. As soon as there is a significant financial problem - maybe a car breaking down, a medical emergency or a separation in a relationship - they can no longer afford to be self-sufficient and find themselves unable to pay rent, she said.
Six years ago, Harder was a sophomore at Holt High School and wasn't unlike most other teenagers her age.
"I wanted to get out of my mom and dad's house - the rules and all that crap," she said.
Unlike most teens who rebel by arguing over curfews and chores, Harder got pregnant and, subsequently, married.
In 1998, at the age of 17, she dropped out of school and moved in with Mike and his mother. By 18, her son, Austin, was born while Harder and her husband both survived cashiering at Meijer, moving from Mike's mother's house to his sister's, where they lived for a year.
Two years later and feeling comfortable both financially and personally, Tammie chose to become pregnant, giving birth to a baby girl, Baylie. By now, they had rented a one-bedroom apartment in Mason but, with another child on the way, they needed added space. They found a more expensive, two-bedroom apartment in Lansing.
From here, like dominoes, the series of events that unfolded sent Tammie and her family tumbling into homelessness. The chain was both fast and uncontrollable, yet strikingly methodical.
Pregnant and unable to stand for long periods of time, Tammie couldn't put in as many work hours. The bills began to pile up. Her husband was fired from his job. The eviction notice wasn't a surprise.
For the first time, the couple found themselves with nowhere to go.
Friends and family either had no room for Tammie, her husband and two children, or couldn't handle the additional excitement the family brought. Even her parents, resentful of their child's rebellious behavior and still in the area, didn't want them around, she said.
"They didn't come out and say we couldn't stay with them," Tammie said. "They helped my brother and sister out a lot, but when it's me, it's like 'no can do.'"
Fortunately for the couple, a support net was in place.
Each year in Lansing, about $1.3 million in federal and state funding helps to finance the 23-shelter system Tammie and her family needed, including Haven House, where the married couple ended up.
After a short stay, Tammie managed to get herself back on her feet. It wouldn't last.
The couple started having interpersonal problems. Eventually, they separated and she found herself back in Haven House.
"At first when I left Mike I felt like I was kind of wobbling," Tammie said. "Then I felt like there was no way I could get up. It seems like even when you're getting a little further, you're really just getting pushed back."
In April 2003, she got in touch with Randy, her current boyfriend and someone she dated in high school before getting pregnant and marrying Mike. The two met at a Holt High School skating party.
Amid custody disputes with her husband, Randy and Tammie bounced from temporary home to temporary home - mostly with Randy's family and friends - until, eventually on Mother's Day of this year, Tammie returned with Randy to Haven House, where she had been two times before. It was Randy's first stop at the shelter.
"There hasn't been a permanent address for me for over a year," she said. "All the options I have, I've exhausted."
Solutions?
Recent national estimates indicate 41 percent of the homeless population consists of either one or both parents with children, which worries people like Haven House's Wiener.
"When I was in high school, kids dropped out and got good-paying jobs in factories," said Wiener of the 1950s. "Things turned out OK for them.
"Now, however, the minimum wage isn't enough to live on, especially with rising housing costs and it's probably going to get worse," she said.
"They may be working full-time and just not making enough. The common denominator is low income."
Minimum wage is $5.15 an hour.
Wiener wants to see more initiative taken to provide low-income, subsidized housing to the 31 million Americans living on the fringes of poverty, rather than allowing budget cuts to tighten them, she said.
John Taylor, coordinator for the Greater Lansing Homeless Resolution Network, said he hopes to eliminate shelters in the long term. The group is responsible for the development and implementation of homelessness services in the Lansing area.
"What we need to do is identify, reduce and address the root causes of homelessness, rather than simply treat the symptoms," he said.
"You'll never eliminate the problem of homelessness itself but you can try to stop chronic homelessness."
Taylor said some ways of curtailing the problem include: more affordable housing, higher wages, financial planning and the appropriate help for those with addictions or mental disease.
According to Taylor, 80 percent of homeless resources support the chronically homeless - those without a permanent address for more than a year or who have been in and out of shelters four or more times in three years.
Shelter life isn't easy, neither is finding a job.
Every morning, the couple wakes up at 8 a.m., dresses the kids - Tammie shares joint custody of them with her husband - and does chores for the shelter. For Tammie, that means cleaning the upstairs communal bathrooms and for Randy, doing dishes, cleaning the counters and mopping floors after Haven House's 25 or so residents eat breakfast.
Following their chores - which effectively act as rent for each resident - the couple maps out their daily plan with the help of on-site staff.
When they're done, the residents usually either look for work or housing or, for those with jobs, go to work, but have to return by 8 p.m., barring an employment conflict or another issue.
"The structure is very important in determining their goals and meeting them," Weiner said. Doing so offers them support and encouragement as well as focus, she added.
"They help you as much as they can, but they won't make the phone calls for you," Tammie said.
The young couple is hopefully nearing the end of their stint in the shelter. Residents are only allowed to stay for 30 days. The couple moved in May 6 - though, they can extend their time if they show progress.
"Things were looking bad, but now they're starting to look up," Randy said.
Both recently found work cleaning apartments and Tammie is pregnant again, due in September. They're hoping for a girl.
Unfortunately, late last week before they started their employment, both Tammie and Randy lost those jobs.
They say their boss found out they were homeless before they started their first day and subsequently told them they weren't needed.
Things stand on shaky ground for the family, according to Weiner.
There's reason to be cautiously optimistic because Tammie is able to be self-sufficient, Weiner said. But no one can truly know whether Tammie and Randy will be a success story for at least a couple years.
Their situation hasn't stopped the couple from dreaming.
"I want a big house, like an old farmhouse with 15 rooms and a yellow car," Tammie said.
"I want to work in NASCAR, driving or working on the cars," Randy said. "My dreams are expensive."
The couple knows they still have a way to go.
"I would like to have something of my own that I can say I got myself," Randy said. "My dream is to get us better then where we are."
