Storm Passed In Warmth, In Spades

D’Mario Parish balanced his cellphone between his shoulder and his ear as he looked at his new hand of cards. Half of his attention was on the phone conversation, the other half on the game of spades before him. The storm outside seemed far away.

“It’s going well,” said Parish, a volunteer cook at the Trinity Baptist Church homeless shelter, as he smiled and winked at his fellow card players seated around the table. ​“We’re in here for the storm, playing cards, staying warm. You know, they’re all trying to cheat me, but you can’t cheat the best.”

“No one’s trying to cheat you,” the group exploded around him, smiling and scoffing and counting the tricks stacked before them to see how close they were to their initial bids. ​“Get off the phone and play your turn!”

With a flick of the wrist, D’Mario tossed a five of clubs from his hand into the center of the table, and the game resumed.

Such was the scene at noon on Tuesday at one table in the basement warming shelter of the Trinity Baptist Church on State Street. As the storm outside changed from snow to sleet, 27 of New Haven’s homeless men and women found temporary shelter in the downtown church’s basement, which functions as an overflow shelter for the city’s primary warming center at Bethel AME Church on Goffe Street.

Usually open every night of the week from 10 p.m. to 7 a.m., both warming centers stayed open all day and night Tuesday, making sure that New Haven’s downtown homeless population had a warm place to weather the storm.

“We’re not going anywhere,” said Mark Jones, who works for the shelter and was overseeing the kitchen and main resting and recreation area. ​“We’ll be open until at least tomorrow morning at 7.”

While some guests warmed themselves with a cup of hot chocolate or wrapped themselves in sleeping bags and tried to catch some rest, Parish led a game of spades at a plastic table not far from the kitchen where he was preparing the night’s meal of soup, rolls, and casserole. He was joined by four guests: Victor Alvarado, Lateef Stevenson, Lupe Kendrick, and Terry (who asked not to be identified by her last name).

Everyone knew the rules by heart. Terry dutifully kept score. The game functioned primarily as a way for the group to relax and kill time, to chat with fellow guests and to share their own stories, backgrounds, interests. And, of course, to sing: along with songs playing over the kitchen radio, or just from memory with a simple boom-bat rhythm pounded by hand on the tabletop.

“I’ve written lots of songs, all based on my own experience,” said Kendrick, who grew up in New Haven, graduated from Hillhouse High School, and is a regular performer at Musical Intervention on Temple Street. ​“I played the trombone for over 10 years, and started out as a choreographer before switching to be a singer and musician.”

After D’Mario shared some of his own rapping and singing chops, Kendrick jumped into a brief acapella rendition of Lorde’s ​“Royals” before returning to the game of spades.

“I play the drums and the quads,” Stevenson said beneath his flat-brimmed black baseball cap. ​“And I went to Co-op [High School]. Got my CNA license, my OSHA credentials.”

“You’ve got to put those to use now,” D’Mario said. ​“And if you all ever need some help finding work, come to me. If someone’s hungry enough to chase their dream, I’m hungry enough to help them.”

Alvarado spun a spade onto the table with a laugh and pulled another trick towards his pile.

“I’ve been in New Haven for a little while,” he said. ​“I lost my mom, lost everything, and have been trying to make it just one day at a time. But this shelter is nice. It’s quiet, and people respect each other here.”

In between plays, D’Mario turned his back to the table and raised his phone in the air. ​“All right, it’s time for Snapchat,” he declared. ​“I’ve got to show my fans what’s going on.” Stevenson and Kendrick laughed as D’Mario showed them his face, mocked up in the photo with rabbit ears and a long tongue, sitting amidst the group of card players.

After the game, D’Mario returned to the kitchen to stir the soup, considering whether or not to accept a challenge from another guest to play Battleship.

“I come here five, six days a week. Really, whenever they need me,” said Kendrick, who also works as a cook at Hopkins School and as a part-time cook at Quinnipiac University. ​“I want to show these guys that we all come from somewhere. I was staying at this shelter just last year. Now that I’m in a place where I can give back, it feels so good to use my talents to help these guys out, to give them a good meal, to show them that they can chase their dreams too.”