It's a van, but it's her home

Betty Brock lives on Person Street in downtown Raleigh, near the Salvation Army.

In a white van.

I had heard about Brock's living situation from Robert Jeans, who volunteers with the homeless around Moore Square.

But in a region committed to ending homelessness, it is hard to imagine a sane and sober 64-year-old woman living in a vehicle until you enter her universe.

Which is to say, the van.

Because of a leg injury from years ago, Brock cannot walk more than a few steps. Her obesity does not help.

She bathes, relieves herself, eats and sleeps right there in the aging Dodge van. Remarkably, it does not smell.

During the days, she reads, works the crossword and crochets hats. She is a sort of den mother to the homeless on the square, calling the cops when there is any trouble.

At night, she puts up screens to block the windows and reclines the seat.

Every week or so she rides a scooter through Wal-Mart. She makes occasional trips to the coin-operated laundry and visits one of her sons in Fuquay-Varina.

Other than that, Brock has not left the van for two years.

How did she get into this fix?

Brock's story is one of those sad, complicated tales familiar to those who work with the homeless.

It started when her husband Dempsey, a Korean War veteran living on disability, was diagnosed with cancer.

They owned their mobile home, but Brock sold it to pay for her husband's funeral. She didn't learn until this past spring that the military would have reimbursed her for that cost. But not now, not nine years later.

She had used part of the proceeds from the mobile home to pay down on another, smaller trailer.

But the bills quickly piled up. She was counting on widow's benefits from the VA that never arrived. Dozens of charges of writing worthless checks shot holes in her credit history.

So about two years ago, Brock and her son and teenage grandson began staying in the van. Now it's just her.

There are no bad guys in this story, per se.

She is frustrated that her husband's veteran's benefits are canceled out by her Social Security and disability checks.

She is irritated that the Salvation Army won't allow a to-go plate to be brought out to her in the van. But the charity is justifiably concerned that the homeless might store the food improperly and get sick from it, rather than eat it immediately.

Brock also has been touched by the kindness of strangers.

Over the past month, one man gave her his late mother's wheelchair scooter, and a couple had a carrier for it attached to her van. (The batteries, unfortunately, will not hold a charge.) A woman gave her a propane heater to warm the van when the mercury plummets.

But Brock's presence downtown is a reminder of how far this area has to go to achieve its laudable goal of eradicating homelessness.

Brock said she would love to sit in a recliner and watch TV again someday. But she thinks the homeless, like the poor, will be with us always. At this point, she can't imagine living outside the van any more than I could imagine living in it.