2 seniors living in their cars at a local park never imagined they'd end up on the streets
Dec. 24—Settling into their golden years, Central Point residents Venora Dobrowolski and Stephen Head have plenty in common, though didn't even realize they were neighbors until just a few days ago.
Spending their daylight hours just a few parking spaces apart at Don Jones Memorial Park, the unlikely neighbors are part of a growing number of homeless seniors who spend their days trying to fly under the radar, tucked inside their cars, or low-cost hotel rooms or in carefully placed tents while navigating life on Social Security, unemployment or disability payments.
Without children to provide for or substance abuse issues, seniors like them qualify for fewer resources than those with more volatile situations. Being older, they feel more vulnerable living on the streets and are less likely to ask for help.
Both having worked their entire lives, Dobrowolski and Head both found themselves suddenly homeless this summer when roommate situations fell through. Complicating life for Dobrowolski, who came to the Rogue Valley from Portland for "hopefully cheaper rental prices," she's got an avian sidekick to worry about, a 41-year-old Moluccan cockatoo named Rocky.
Shelters won't accept the bird, and rental prices, even to rent a room, have been higher than the 67-year-old, whose husband died in 2012 and left her with little to live on, can afford. Snuggling inside a bright blue Ford Fiesta near the restrooms adjacent to picnic pavilions, woman and bird pass the time listening to music, reading or posting items for sale online — from a large storage unit — to make ends meet.
Not to say, quipped the woman, that ends are necessarily meeting these days.
Dobrowolski said she lived in Portland until this summer when she had a falling out with a longtime roommate and opted to move after various offers from friends didn't pan out. Having lived in Gold Hill for a stint — and loving the recreational opportunities — she headed back to Southern Oregon for what she hoped would be a typical mild winter.
Even with a car full of supplies, and Rocky's cage in the backseat surrounded by blankets for insulation, the recent temperature dip into the low 20s was tough to endure.
"I guess we do OK. I just have to keep the car warm. Every hour or hour-and-a-half, I turn the car on to warm it back up. He doesn't usually have to tell me because I'm feeling it, too," she said.
"Once in a while, I might doze off, and I'll hear him let out a little peep. That's his way of telling me to turn the heat back on. We try to save gas as best we can, but we need to stay warm."
Dobrowolski said the bird "used to have more to say," but has mellowed as he's grown older.
"Nowadays, it's like he requires me to interpret his various peeps and telepathically read his mind so he doesn't have to speak up," she teased.
Just across the way, 64-year-old Stephen Head passes the time in his old brown Jeep, reading books from a nearby Little Free Library. Being able to borrow books and have restrooms nearby are reasons both Dobrowolski and Head hang out at the park during the daytime. An added boost, both conceded the smaller city in a neighborhood of newer homes feels less threatening than nearby Medford, with record homeless levels and increasing crime levels.
Head said he had lived in the Rogue Valley for a dozen years but became homeless after the 2020 fires. Aside from feeling uncomfortable "accepting help," he prefers the safety of his car to shelters or camping.
"I lived up in the mountains until the fires came through two years ago. After that, housing went more crazy than it already was. I was asked to move. I had lived in Eagle Point, and they were kicking people out to make more money renting to everyone looking for a place to live," he said.
"I got back on my feet within a couple months, but it's been a tough couple years."
Head rented a room for a couple of years until the house was suddenly sold. While he's worked his entire life, health problems have put a damper on his ability to earn a living without needed hernia surgery.
"I was making a decent living working for a contractor; even just working part time, I still made good money," he added.
"After I ended up homeless, I got really sick for a while and had to rent a motel room. They're expensive, but it was my only option. I couldn't find another room, and I had to get out of the weather. Used up the rest of the money I had just being able to sleep inside for a little while."
He added, "In all the years I've been here, I've always tried to help people out when I could, so it's been really funny to find myself in this situation, I guess except for it's not really funny. ... Shoe's on the other foot, I guess."
Debbie Saxbury, a community advocate, said she met Dobrowolski and Head after last weekend's Santa "parade through town" and shared Christmas cookies with the two. Saxbury was saddened to see "two seniors, my own age" living in cars, and she noted an increase in the number of homeless and struggling community members over the past two years.
"It just really struck me because they were both really clean and had decent cars. I wouldn't have guessed, if I hadn't seen everything in the woman's car, that they would be homeless. It just goes to show, we can't really ever tell," she said.
"I think people truly underestimate how many live paycheck to paycheck and are just one away from homelessness. There's got to be a place for our elderly population. Younger people have the option to go out and get a job, and there are a lot more resources if you have kids or you're on drugs."
Officials at senior services in Medford declined to comment about increases or changes in trends for homeless seniors. Senior and veteran homeless advocate Bobbie Holden, who founded the Southern Oregon Navigator about 15 years ago, said she's seen a significant spike in the number of seniors on the streets of Southern Oregon.
Holden spoke of recently discovering a 71-year-old blind man sleeping on the ground with a thin blanket — the man was later hospitalized — and sharing resources with countless others. Holden said homelessness often is less evident with seniors who try to make themselves less obvious for a slew of reasons.
"Some of them don't look like you expect them to. Nobody should be out there in the cold, but it is especially sad when it's our veterans or our seniors," Holden said.
"The older ones don't show up as often, and they're more reluctant to ask for help. They kind of stay in their cars or on the outskirts of town; they find safer places to park if they have cars."
The two neighbors who find solace at Don Jones Park both insisted a positive outlook is key. Grateful to be in his car instead of a tent, Head said he'd "figure something out."
"I'm a survivor, so I'll be OK. I'm gonna try and sell some stuff I've got in storage — if I don't sell something quick and pay for storage and for my phone, then I lose my only way to contact everyone," he said, rubbing his hands to warm them.
"I've never been homeless before, so I'm not up on all the resources — I guess you could say I don't have the tools to deal with being homeless because I've never imagined I would be homeless."
Dobrowolski and Rocky had a similar plan; sell items from storage and avoid a negative mindset.
"We all have to remember that we all have it better than at least someone else. Some of us born in the '40s and '50s, when we got on Social Security, it just was never going to be that much, and we knew," she said.
"I try to go around and help as many people as I can. I go to these food banks, and I collect food and take it to all the other homeless. Today I gave an older guy the hat off my head and a couple pair of socks. He was newly homeless and didn't have anything."
Dobrowolski said keeping a positive mindset would get her through.
"Did I ever imagine being my age and homeless? Never. I never would have imagined living in my car. Never would have imagined the 40 years with a bird," she said.
"But, it is what it is, and we're doing the best we can, and we'll make it through."
Head agreed, "I'm a survivor, so that's what I'll do. I'll survive ... as long as it doesn't get any colder."
Reach reporter Buffy Pollock at 541-776-8784 or bpollock@rosebudmedia.com. Follow her on Twitter @orwritergal.
