Homeless Man Reflects on Suffering and Loss

By Ethan Glickstein

Spectator Staff Writer

"Hey slim! How's it going? You know it's pretty cold out here tonight." Edward Ways has these phrases patented. Residents strolling up and down Broadway near Columbia may not know where he came from or what forced him onto the streets nearly a decade ago, but what they do know is that he is one of Morningside Heights' most recognizable characters.

Tina Wadhwa, BC '04, always passes Ways on her way to Westside Market. From the occasional brief chats she's had with him, Wadhwa's immediate response to his name was one of great sympathy. "I feel bad for him, because it seems like he has led a really tough life," she said. "Nothing seems to go his way."

Homeless for almost eight years, Ways nonetheless refuses to jingle his cup of change. He prefers to talk with passers-by, and on a 40-degree windy winter night, Ways feels far from depressed. His spirits remain high, defying the roller coaster that has been his life for the last 10 years.

"I'm not the stereotypical homeless man that everyone feels they can't trust," said Ways. "I'm not the junkie that most people see when they look at me. I know what people think, but that's not my story."

The tragic chain of events leading to Ways' homelessness is one of bad luck and suffering. Catalyzing his fall into poverty was an actual three-story fall that landed Ways in the hospital 10 years ago. He had broken both of his legs, and spent a subsequent six months in the hospital. Today Ways stands hunched over, shaking slightly, forever debilitated by the injury.

"Both legs were broken so badly that I got steel rods in each of them from the knees to the hips," said Ways. "It's still hard to stand and walk and my legs hurt after a while."

The bad news did not end there. It followed Ways out of the hospital and traveled with him to his final destination. During his hospital stay Ways lost his job as a teacher, a position that he had held for 14 years, and was also thrown out of his residence. Arriving back at his apartment building, Ways was shocked to find that he no longer had a place to call home.

"My whole apartment building was up for sale, and the landlord hadn't even let the tenants know," said Ways, suddenly disbelieving the sudden nature of his homelessness.

Within minutes, Ways found himself out of a job, forced to walk the grimy streets of the city while still weak from his fall earlier that year. He eventually moved into a homeless shelter because he could not afford the new rent in his apartment building; he had gone on welfare during his hospital stay.

The shelter, however, offered no security against bad omens and bad people. Ways "was attacked by a crazy man with a knife." During this attack, his hand was sliced open so gravely that the doctors were unable to repair his tendons. This injury left his pinky immobile, at a permanent diagonal angle from the rest of his hand.

The culmination of Ways' injuries left him unable to work and a permanent dependent of welfare. The problems experienced in shelters, coupled with familial conflicts, obliged Ways to return to his life on the streets, where he felt safer. Since becoming homeless, Ways' health has deteriorated even further. He has become a diabetic and requires two daily shots of insulin.

On good days, especially during the holiday season, panhandling can earn Ways up to $50. Most of the time he makes much less money, and never enough to move indoors.

"Because of this cold weather, I sleep in the 116th Street subway station most of the time, but now I'm trying to save up enough money to move into a hotel or something for a few days at least just to get some rest," said Ways.

Besides being a place to sleep and a means of avoiding the winter weather, Ways says the greatest advantage of having a room is being able to avoid the police.

"They always wake me up when I'm sleeping, and sometimes they arrest me or give me summons. There are days when I get four to six summons for 'aggressively panhandling', which is basically asking people for money."

Each summons carries with it an $80 charge. "How am I supposed to pay that if I'm homeless?" Ways asked.

Problems piling on top of each other have caused Ways to at times feel as though he "can't go on."

But Ways continues to persevere with the hope of eventually being reunited with his five children. They moved back to Atlanta with his wife when she divorced him before his fall eight years ago.

Pride prevents him from going back home to Georgia, where he and his ex-wife moved in 1967.

"I will only go back when I'm more successful and not in such terrible shape. I don't want my children to see me like I am now," he said.

Ways claims that, in general, the people on Morningside Heights are good to him. "Believe it or not, I spend more time talking than begging," said Ways, who occasionally fights against depression. "Some students and residents treat the homeless with respect, like we're humans."

Chris Keitel, CC '04, said, "I feel bad because I never really stopped and had a long conversation with him or anything. His situation is really unfortunate though, and it's terrible that he always has to stand there and talk to people just to get some money."

Ways said, "Some people just don't understand how I got here and look at me as inferior, but I can't dwell upon negative things like that... I mean people can believe what they want, but I don't fit into anyone's stereotypes about the homeless."