05/01/2025
Meet Steve 🏡
I met him sleeping in a small tent, tucked into the bushes next to the Space, with a massive dog the size of a tank. That dog, Scarlett, made it hard to go unnoticed with her protective barking.
I asked Steve to leave the block and handed him a $10 for his troubles. He accepted graciously and began to pack. Sitting alone afterward, I didn’t feel bad for Steve so much as I did for Scarlett—she must’ve thought this was the world’s longest walk.
I called him back over. He sat and shared his story. Turned out, Steve was a carpenter going through a rough patch. I needed help building a stage and had no clue what I was doing, so I made him a deal: help me build, and you and your dog can stay safe inside the gated area. He agreed.
At first, Steve was quiet. But over time, he opened up—a treasure chest of wisdom, wild stories, and cautionary tales of lost love. Scarlett, once all bark and brawn, turned out to be a clumsy sweetheart who lived for belly rubs. The space gave them both a little peace. Eventually, Steve found some shelter and work.
When we finished the build, he kept his word. Steve and Scarlett packed up and went back out into the unpredictable LA streets. The space was more beautiful—but emptier somehow. Steve lost his phone, and like so many unhoused in this city, disappeared into the chaos. The occasional check-ins stopped, and they became a memory.
Months passed. No word. I hoped maybe he found a place, reconciled with his ex-wife and 14-year-old son, or just got a fresh start.
Then today—out of nowhere—Steve showed up. New bike. Looking healthy. Smiling. A woman named Rainbow by his side. We hugged. My heart was full.
Sometimes all a man needs is something to do with his hands—and a soft, safe place to land.
Welcome H.O.M.E., buddy.
P.S. Scarlett’s healthy and doing great too.