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The War Cry | AUGUST 2014
Windy City. In that plan, he would
live outdoors apart from society, do
his drugs and die in the process.
But in that moment, Williams
reached for something more--more
from life, more from himself, more
from the society he had chosen
to shun and that shunned him.
DOCTORS THOUGHT HIM A GONER
I met Henry at the Salvation Army
Harbor Light Center at Monroe
and Ashland Streets, which he calls
home. Except for a telltale mouth of
missing and tangled teeth, it was
hard to imagine this was the same
man whom Captain Nancy Powers,
Harbor Light corps officer, described
bringing here that frigid winter night.
At the time, Williams was a
fright by his own admission, with
a "haystack" of unkempt hair atop
his head and a "Rip Van Winkle
beard." He had lost about 70
pounds, dropping from his nor-
mal weight of 185 down to 115.
He needed help to walk, and by
by
MARK BROWN
by
M
M
Reborn,
Reunited,
Repurposed
All he had covering him were two
thin sheets. He wore no gloves. When
two Salvation Army workers tried to
wake him, they got no response and
called 911, believing he was dead.
The paramedics successfully
roused Henry, who only remem-
bers them saying: "Sir, we have
some people here who are willing
to take you to a warm place."
"And I can remember extending my
hand and saying, `Yes, sir. Yes, sir.'"
Extending his hand wasn't part of
the plan the 54 year-old had made
for himself during eight years of
living homeless on the streets of the
Photo Kevin Tanaka/For Sun-Times Media
Feeding the Homeless on the
Army's regular mobile distribution
program in Chicago.
H
enry Williams can tell you the exact
moment of his rebirth.
It was January 5th, 2014, the first night
of the polar vortex that plunged Chicago into
a lethal deep freeze. Henry was asleep in his usual spot
outside the delivery door of a CVS pharmacy. The buzz
of the heroin he had snorted was telling his brain he
was toasty and warm, when in reality he was probably
freezing to death.