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Wednesday, January 26, 2000
8A
College graduate finds his dreams spiraling down
Continued from page 1A
In Lawrence, his plan began to unravel, slowly at first and then in a rapid, downward spiral. While working as a graduate teaching assistant at KU, Bryant's dream of teaching faded in the harsh light of reality.
"The students didn't care and some of them couldn't read," Bryant said in between sips from a steaming coffee cup. "I ended up really frustrated and knew I couldn't teach."
So, Bryant turned to an all-together new field. His new passion became planetarium sciences. As he talked about his dreams of working in a planetarium, Bryant's eyes danced from face to face around the room.
Just as things were settling down, Bryant's wife left him. She simply moved out with no indication of why or where she was going. Bryant worked for months trying to understand why.
"Absolutely nothing is necessarily how it seems," he said. "Not even the person sleeping next to you at night."
Fidgeting with the rim of his empty coffee cup and shifting in his chair, Bryant struggled to find the words to describe a woman he has not seen or heard from in more than six years. Bryant called his wife's departure the single most traumatic experience of his life.
To replace his wife's income, which had paid for food and rent, Bryant joined the ranks of students who take on student loans every year. He acquired $60,000 in guaranteed student loans, $48,000 from a year and a half at KU alone. Eventually, the school cut him off because he had borrowed more than the limit. Unable to pay tuition and out of graduate school, all of his deferred student loans came due.
"It was the first thing that sent me down." Bryant said, casting his eyes down at the table top. "Financially, and especially, emotionally."
Bryant settled for unskilled jobs, despite nearly eight years of college education. Swamped in debt and making only minimum wage left him a month behind in rent. On Aug. 1, 1997, exactly five years after moving to Lawrence, Bryant's landlord evicted him from his apartment. Bryant's college education had left him homeless.
Bryant fills his days with books and research as he works to perfect three novels that he has written since becoming homeless. He also works on a personal Web site containing a collection of philosophical essays written about his homeless life and how the world looks through the eyes of a homeless man. Because the site is still under construction, Bryant keeps the address hidden from Web surfers.
The laptop computer he hovers over in the smoky coffee shop is his prized possession and writing has brought a welcome stability to his unpredictable life.
"Just getting a degree is meaningless," Bryan said. "Everyone has a degree. You have to know what makes you different."
Jerry Nyhoff, 37, has known Bryant for about two years and has been homeless in Lawrence for almost three. Nyhoff, who has an associate's degree from Johnson County Community College, said Bryant was an honest man who inspired other homeless people by giving them hope for their futures. Bryant reaches out to other homeless people by volunteering as a homeless representative at
the Lawrence Drop-In Center and by speaking to other groups about his life.
About 44 percent of homeless people have jobs, according to the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, and Bryant recently rejoined that demographic group. He had been out of work for a month or two, but was recently hired at the Conoco service station at 2447 W. Sixth St., where he often works the evening or night shifts. The minimum wage job pays just enough to keep him fed and for an occasional load of laundry.
This day in the coffee shop, Bryant said he had just enough money to pay for about one meal per day and a small part of the $650 monthly installments on his school loans. He also spends about $70 each month on a storage garage where he keeps most of his personal belongings, although he won't need the garage soon because most of his things are long gone.
"I've had to sell most everything of value," Bryant said just after offering to buy this reporter a fresh cup of coffee. "I don't know what I will have to sell next."
Forced to choose between paying for shelter and for student loans, he has chosen loans. His mother and ex-wife cosigned on the debts, and he said that he felt compelled to pay the loans off as soon as possible to ensure that neither woman had to carry the burden of his debt.
His car, a 1984 Honda CRX, paid for by credit card, might be next. But, for now, it holds some of his belongings and often doubles as Bryant's bedroom. He has considered finding a roommate and an apartment. Bryant said, but he needs money for a down payment and other initial expenses — money he does not have.
"Paul is an amazing man," said Hess, who has known Bryant for more than a year. "Paul has strengths that are impressive for anyone, housed or homeless."
Homelessness is not an easy thing for Bryant to talk about. In fact, he never actually used the word "homeless." He points to the word on his laptop's screen to avoid revealing his secret to others in the coffeehouse.
It is even more difficult for Bryant to express homelessness in terms that people who live in houses can understand.
"God forbid you should ever know what it's really like," Bryant said.
Bryant used to catch a couple hours of sleep in his car, but rarely does now. A year ago someone put a bullet into the windshield and one into the driver's side door. The two holes remind him of the ever-present dangers of street life.
"Luckily, I was sleeping on the steps of the court-house that night," Bryant said. "It's a lot safer if I just don't sleep."
He often eats food cooked on the greasy grids at local shelters. He avoids soup kitchens such as the Salvation Army and Jubilee Cafe as much as possible. The atmosphere, he said, the pain and poverty surrounding him as he crammed into an overcrowded table, is not worth the free meal some days.
Even though he has to stand in line to shower while many others use "his" bathroom at the community center, Bryant takes great pride in his physical appearance. His hair is trimmed and his face is clean-shaven. In the coffeehouse, he could pass for a college student working on an overdue assignment and looking for a little privacy. From his appearance, no one would know the truth.
Despite being homeless, Bryant ran for a seat on the city commission last year. He knew first hand what it was like to be on the receiving end, or more accurately, not on the receiving end of the social benefits and programs.
"I was driven by a sense of duty," Bryant said.
Although he tallied only 571 votes, which was only 4.1 percent of the total cast, he did it on a campaign budget of only $25.
"The media took me out the first day of the cam paign," Bryant said with a grin as he downloaded his campaign Web site on his laptop. "But it was a great experience."
Brenda McFadden, Lawrence resident and owner of McFadden and Associates LLC, ran against Bryant and said she didn't think that his homelessness had a direct influence on his failure to gain support.
"Some of his ideas were very thought-provoking," McFadden said. "You have to have money to run a campaign, though."
Bryant remains homeless at least partly because of stubbornness and his sense of responsibility. He says he would like to leave Lawrence to start again, but even leaving is too costly.
He has had no contact with his parents and the rest of his family, who live in Michigan. He talked to his brother only once in the past year. He said his divorced parents had both experienced financial hardships themselves and were in no position to help. His brother and sister have families of their own, and there is a distance between the siblings.
"We're just not a close family." Bryant said. "It's a good family, but not a close one."
Though filing for bankruptcy helps many people recover from extreme debt, doing so would not erase Bryant's $60,000 guaranteed student loan. The legal fees for bankruptcy would nearly balance out his outstanding credit card debt.
"Like many homeless people, I think that Paul is working as hard as he can to get out of this situation," Hess said. "I am pleased to have the benefit of Paul's experience and friendship as a social worker and advocate. Personally though, I would prefer that he be housed and comfortable somewhere, even if that means we never would have met."
After more than two hours of quietly chatting about the tragedy of homelessness, Bryant revealed that he has come to fear not being homeless, that living without a home is so natural now that it seems awkward to envision himself anywhere else.
But, from the safe confines of Java Break, Bryant still dreams of the day when things will be different. Although there are only tiny windows along the ceiling behind his table, Bryant looks through them into the distance. Beyond today and outside of Lawrence, Bryant said he saw a place in this world where all of his dreams would come true — a place where he would one day live in a place he could call home.