Miramichiers step up as homeless people wait for out-of-the-cold shelter
Mayor Adam Lordon is calling on the province to show leadership and find long term solutions
Under the glow of street lamps, Shaundra Crawford is passing out gloves and steaming hot plates of lasagna.
She's outside the Newcastle Public Library on a bitterly cold night, with bins of warm winter clothing and a folding table piled with food to share with Miramichi's most vulnerable residents.
"We look forward to seeing them, and we worry about them during the week," Crawford said of the people she helps. "They're our friends now."
Homelessness is becoming increasingly visible in Miramichi, and frontline volunteers say the number of people living on the streets is growing. The city estimates between 75 and 100 people are without a home.
An out-of-the-cold shelter is expected to open soon, after being delayed by a court injunction by local businesses that didn't want it in their neighbourhood. While people wait for the 15-bed trailers to open, Crawford and others are stepping up to help the people caught in the middle and left outside.
Crawford and her mother Crystal Reynolds set up in the parking lot two nights a week, offering donated food and warm winter clothing.
On this December night, people stop by to donate the lasagna dinner, while another woman drops off 400 cookies she baked with friends.
'It's disheartening'
Crawford said Miramichi's homeless population has grown rapidly since the pandemic — and the small city is unprepared to help. The only year-round homeless shelter has just seven beds, and it is consistently full.
"We're seeing homelessness in Miramichi like we've never seen it before, and there's nothing in place. There is nothing here. We don't have a soup kitchen," she said.
"There's people who are working full time who are homeless, who can't afford rent and utilities and the cost of living period. It can happen to anybody. It really, really can."
Reynolds said anywhere from 10 to 20 people stop by each night for something to eat. She also delivers some meals, and the leftovers are dropped off at the emergency shelter.
"You notice them, folks going through town, both sides of the river, Newcastle and Chatham, with shopping carts. Carrying everything they own and what they could fit in a shopping cart. And it's disheartening."
'It's the light of my night'
A couple of seniors in search of foam insulation for their tent stop by the parking lot, along with a young man on a bike who picks out a warm pair of gloves. Later, a man who is working and living in a crowded shared apartment explains he is there because he has no money left for food after paying his rent and heat.
Carmen Hayden has been homeless for two years and says chatting with Reynolds and Crawford and swapping jokes over a home cooked meal is the best part of his week.
"It's the light of my night coming down here and getting supper, 'cause it's really good," he said. "Here you get treated like a person instead of a thing."
Hayden is a lifelong Miramichier, and said he started sleeping outside after the bank foreclosed on his family home. In the years since, he's struggled with addiction.
Right now he is staying at the city's only permanent shelter, but he may leave because the rules — including a curfew — don't work for him. He says he prefers to camp outside so he can look after his brother, who is also homeless and doesn't have a warm place to sleep.
"I'll do what I probably did last year. I figured it out. I took a cart, I took blankets, I kept warm."
Sharing compassion
Crawford and Reynolds aren't the only Miramichiers trying to help.
Across the road from the library, Claudine Morris sets up six mornings a week. Out of the backseat of her car, she hands out hot breakfast sandwiches, hats, mittens and scarves.
"They need to know that they're loved and cared for," she said. "God asked me to come and feed his people."
Morris started her roadside breakfast program nearly a year ago, after her son Jeremy died from Huntington's disease. She calls her work Jeremy's Mission.
"They can come to a place and no one's going to judge them, or attack them, but just love them. It's more than the food, it's the compassion," she said.
Morris feeds anywhere from 10 to 30 people each day, and many are homeless.
Polarizing shelter debate
Morris says Miramichi desperately needs more resources, mental health and addictions treatment and, most importantly, a warm place to stay.
The city is getting an emergency out-of-the-cold shelter, as part of a last-minute effort to try to prevent people from freezing to death. But the issue of where to put it has become polarizing.
Some businesses tried to stop it with a court injunction and later dropped their legal challenge, after an agreement to put up fencing and add private security.
The three bunkhouse trailers will have a total of 15 beds and will only be open overnight.
Vince Mullin owns a music store on the square in Newcastle, just a few blocks away from the site of the out-of-the-cold shelter.
He is not fighting the project. In fact, he has a large yellow sign posted in the front window of his shop, telling people in handwritten letters, 'This business supports the out of the cold shelter.'
"I mean, this is just a basic thing that I believe all people should be entitled to.... We feed and shelter our people, our friends," he said.
Mullin said he spoke out because he wants people to know he cares. He welcomes those in vulnerable situations into his shop to warm up and chat.
He experienced homelessness himself, briefly living in his car. He also struggled with addiction. Now, he's nearly 20 years sober and a business owner.
"We have people living in pipes, living in drainage areas, we have people hiding in all kinds of places. Places people shouldn't be," he said.
'Band-Aid solution'
Mayor Adam Lordon agrees homelessness is becoming more visible, but he says data from the non-profit Miramichi Housing Solutions does not show an increase.
While he is happy to see the new out of the cold shelter set to open, he calls it a "Band-Aid, short-term solution."
"[Shelters] won't actually address the root of the issue and that's where we need to see some action," Lordon said.
"Whether that's in housing development, addictions and mental health ... and in education and support for folks when they're in that vulnerable stage — before they become chronically homeless."
Lordon says the policy used to be to buy anyone who was homeless a bus ticket to Moncton, where there are more services. Now they're trying to help them within the community.
To do that, he says the provincial government must step up and lead the effort.
"There's lots of interest in helping but we do need that leadership from the province to guide those efforts, so that we can meaningfully move the needle."
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