2nd Annual VAGLAHS Stand Down

What is a STAND DOWN?

Stand Down for Homeless Veterans was modeled after the concept was originally used during the Vietnam War to provide a safe retreat for units returning from combat operations. Secure base camp areas were set up, where services were available to take care of personal hygiene, providing clean uniforms, hot meals, free medical and dental care services, receive or send mail and personal correspondence, legal services, and enjoy the camaraderie of other Veterans, in a safe, healthy, humane, environment. Stand Down affords post-active military, their care animals, providing a well-deserved opportunity to revive their minds, hearts, and sense of well-being.

In conjunction with the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) nearly 13% of the homeless adult population are Veterans and utilize Housing Vouchers to reduce poverty, homelessness, and improve housing stability. Landlords can complete a pre-Request for Tenancy Approval (Pre-RFTA) form, and contacted by HACoLA staff at the event to schedule an inspection of the vacant unit, eventually signing an agreement for holding the unit for 30 days for veterans that experienced homelessness. Programs such as VIP make more housing affordable by increasing housing opportunities by providing grants, or loan assistance to support rental housing Low-Income Housing Tax Credits, and HOME Private Investment Partnerships.  

The purpose of this year’s 2^nd Annual VAGLAHS Stand Down is for homeless veterans to enjoy a wide range of support services and time, and an opportunity for Los Angeles landlords and Property Managers with Section 8 Housing Vouchers to house a Veteran that day. The program brings all these services to one location, making them more accessible than ever to homeless veterans. Providing supplies, legal services, and the possibility of housing to Veterans in addition to food, shelter, clothing, health screenings and VA Social Security benefits counseling. Veterans can also receive referrals to other assistance such as health care, employment, substance use treatment, religious support, and mental health care. A diversified collaborative event, it will be coordinated between local West LA VA Medical Center Welcome Center Building 257 North Campus, 11301 Wilshire Boulevard North Campus, Los Angeles, California 90073. October 20, 2016 as an all-day event providing three hot meals for Veterans.

To volunteer, or participate in an upcoming events, contact Melinda Estes, (310) 478-3711 x48325 VA Greater Healthcare System. 

For information on the HUD-VASH Housing Program, Community Engagement & Reintegration Services at the Greater Los Angeles Health Care System, contact Senior Housing Specialist 
Kevin Crey - direct line (310)936-6964
Kevin.Crey@va.gov                

10.17.2016 By TL Crey

Groovin' At The Grove" - "Born To Run" by Bruce Springsteen

Waking up at the crack of dawn for the Barnes & Noble autograph signing of  “Born to Run” , an explosively successful event held at the Grove on October 3, 2016, was oddly like getting on-line for tickets to the best rock concert in the world. I woke in total darkness from my cozy bed in Topanga, flew down Pacific Coast highway like Mario Andreotti, and scored a free parking space inside Park LaBrea. Off to a good start.

It's now 4AM, so out I went, on my "Meandering for Magic" adventure. To quote a line from Bruce, “Everybody form a line”, inspired me to join the 1100 other admiring fans coming well prepared for temperatures ranging from 50 to 90 degrees. I slugged coats, ponchos, food, and God forbid, please don’t let me forget my IPhone to take my picture with Bruce, when we began to cascade around The Grove, not once, but twice, before meeting the Rock God himself. 

The real adventure began as the sun came up and we were given wrist bands to the sigh of relief that we would make it inside to buy the signed book. Yeah! This was the spirit of being a true Springsteen fan, helping each other pass the time by holding places in line for much-needed breaks into the Old Farmers Market, before finally making it into the Holy Land, Barnes&Noble.

Miraculously, when we were finally ushered inside the palatial third floor around hour Ten, it all became worth it. There he stood, taller than I remember upon our first meeting ten years ago, which ended in him kissing me. Here I was, back for more, finally awaiting the moment I step up to the podium to have the exquisite :30 pleasure of meeting my Jack Kerouac, Elvis Presley, and George Gershwin hero, combined into one middle class poet warrior Rock God.

It's now Hour Ten, and I look like crap, exhausted, and can only manage to smile stepping on the podium beside him and whisper, “I’m a Stockton C Wing Cafeteria Girl”. INSTANTLY, Bruce smiles back, as it was one of the first New Jersey colleges the band played transforming our meat and potatoes hall during the day, into the House of Hell Raising at the night. “Oh yeah?” A question, as well as a right of passage at the same time, looking down at me as some past ghost from my Big Italian Family, seeing into each other’s Catholic souls the shared commonality of East Coast roots far away from the glitz of Hollywood. I stood frozen under his gaze. He’s tall, I’m short. He’s a God. I look like I’ve had no sleep.

“Yup…” I smile. That’s all I wanted - for him to know in those simple words strung together, I am a true Jersey Girl. I am the one you wrote about. I am the one who danced all night till Three AM at Stockton College C Wing cafeteria, waitressed summers Down The Shore, and indulged in romantic interludes behind the Beach Bar watching the sun come up on Brigantine beach, completing the magic with an "Early Riser" breakfast special at some Jersey diner.

Tan and relaxed, Bruce seemed very happy to be meeting fans, so approaching the fleeting moment right before the camera “clicks”, I whisper… 

“I love you”. Which by the way, now weeks later, I CAN’T BELIEVE I SAID.

There was a moment between us. He looked into my eyes and said, “I love you, too”. It doesn’t get any better than that. I was now free go to Heaven with his smile on my face. Only, it didn’t end there, as I discovered the photo was overexposed! I ran back frantic to the manager showing him the picture and he let me through. Bruce recognized me instantly, and cracked a solid Jersey smirk, winking slyly at the deer in the headlight look in my face, as I approached the podium, once again, slightly humiliated.

“She’ baaaack…What happened?” Just like my Dad would say, or my older hunk cousins I had a crushes on but were so taboo to think of in that way, I stood stunned to take in his voice - so familiar. Driving around New Jersey at  in my vintage 67 Mustang, listening to him sing to me as I drove my girlfriends to parties, it was like a siren luring me into deep waters of Home I forgotten how good it felt. It’s amazing connecting with someone you respect, admire, and consider a personal hero, politically, professionally, poetically, and profoundly, New Jersey. Born in the USA.

Bruce Springsteen is one of the most evolved souls on the planet and “Born To Run” is his most prolific work, exposing himself to the adoring fans and contemptuous humanity we all submit to in the end. It's his testament to rebellion, breaking free from constraints, finding your inner voice and learning how to listen to it. Bruce writes with a profound verbosity about living on the edge of reality and defining your own way, poetically stringing together a would be run-on sentence into a work of art, a higher calling only he understood to work through and now share.
“Born To Run” is not just a testament to rebellion, breaking free from constraints, finding your inner voice and learning how to listen to it, but a profound personal statement on living on the edge of reality and defining your life own way. The way he strings together ideas, is like several strands of pearls, a run-on sentence of complex imagery, creating a masterful inner monologue requiring you to descend into the holy depths of his soul and crawl back out on your knees of gratitude for his insight, showing us all the way out. "Born to Run" is not just brilliant, it's a portrait of an artist's life who redefines life on his own terms.  Amen to the Church of Bruce. 

Love along Highway 27

You never know what you'll come home with from a ride to get out of your own head. 

Against my better judgement, I dragged my butt off the couch after moinths of depression watching eight hundred co-workers including myself get laid off from our jobs, and drive up a vast highway to a rustic canyon music festival, and came home with a husband. How did a city chick get off the couch permanently and end up in God’s country, you ask? 

Just like life, the winding twists and turns of Highway 27 seem to hide what’s just ahead, life will drop a 30-ton boulder to stop you dead in your tracks and get you to notice something is werong. That was me, speeding along in life happily residing in Venice, keeping my New York edge from saying words like “Dude.” Working in TV, I commuted to the Holy City of Hollywood, so on weekends I didn’t move. Healing from dating the Walking Dead and I recent trip to Hawaii where I though I met my soul mate until he fell in love with another tourist, I was over it. Stick-a-fork over it, leaving behind a past of ghosts still haunting me, I stopped going out. Completely. Fear of going through the spin cycle of romance again and again, I lie in comfort horizontal, watching re-runs of Gilmore Girls and Sex In The City marathons.

When my neighbor, Carol, an indie roots rocker living inside the body of a Massage Therapist, mentioned her friend’s band was playing in Topanga one Memorial Day weekend, it stirred enough interest for me to actually put down the TV remote and think about getting in my car. I called my BF, Neurotic Nick, to come with me, who replied in his casual effete tone that he would meet me after lunch. That was code for a fifty-fifty chance of a no-show, so I headed up the Pacific Coast Highway in search of my destiny.  Driving up the switchbacks into the Canyon, I noticed how the sunlight filtered through the Live Oaks and I began to breathe slower. I parked in front of Froggy’s, long before it would be open and waited for the shuttle next to several guys who seemed nice enough, and wouldn't murder me.  We engaged in small talk, when I notice the good looking one with dark hair, surf trunks, a cool T-shirt, the posture of a Marine, and a bad-ass pair of Persol sunglasses. 

We climbed aboard the shuttle, Cute Boy seated next to me. We made chit-chat and I casually mentioned that I was meeting my friends…just in case he was an Ax Murderer. He had just come from surfing so I recounted how I had recently surfed for the first time in Oahu, standing up in front of Dukes Waikiki in my bikini, acting out my Gidget fantasy, until I got hit in the head with the surfboard by the next wave.  As we arrived at the festival, Cute Boy pulled out a pen and wrote his number down. 

“Call me, if your friends don't show up and you can come hang out with us,” he said, smiling. 

“Cool,” I said, and walked away thinking, “Don’t hold your breath!” Stuffing the number in my back pocekt, I spent the next hour shopping, as Topanga Days not only has great music, great food, and great people-watching opportunities, but also a Marrakesh bazaar of chic hippie outfits that could pass for my entire high school wardrobe. Saris blew in the wind and I forgot about searching for Carol and Neal. Happily, I sat down and listened to the band, taking in the vibe, when up walked Cute Boy. 

"Hey, did you get ahold of your friends?” he asked. 

“Negative. I'm in cell phone hell,” I replied. He instantly offered his cell for assistance. I tried both numbers, leaving Neal a message (“Did you die?") and Carol (”Still working or just flaking?”) 

Cute Boy and I walked through the bazaar, past sage burning rituals and belly dancing girls twirling Hula Hoops on their arms. I spied his friends at a distance looking me over approvingly.

We spent the afternoon playing life catch-up, recounting all the intimate details of our pasts. He was a Los Angeles native and surfer. I told him about growing up in Jersey, living in the East Village and going to NYU Film School. He told me about parties with famous celebrities and the erect posture from being a Navy Helicopter Search and Rescue Seal. We spent the rest of our time recapping past relationships. Mostly girls with tattoos for him; the walking wounded, for me. 

“Wow, glad that’s out, now let’s drink! Oh wait, you don’t drink?” Okay, we’ll figure it out. 

And we did. Cute Boy and I bought a house in between where we met at Froggy’s and got married at the Inn of the Seventh Ray in September 2003. What I fell in love with was more than just the guy with the Persol sunglasses and accoutrements. It was this Alice in Wonderland place hidden amongst the live oak. I watch lizards, tiny frogs, bobcats and coyotes cross my path, listening to the owls call to each other across the Canyon in different octaves. I stand under the stars, my umbrella of live oaks around me.

You never know whom you might be sitting next to on the shuttle to Topanga Days. It just may change your life.