A once homeless veteran goes from a tiny house to an apartment of his own
Last Sunday, Steve LeBerth had a big reason to celebrate his 62nd birthday.
The formerly homeless U.S. veteran went out to dinner with Tyler, one of his 30-year-old twin sons. Afterward, instead of returning to his "tiny home" village in Seattle, LeBerth showed his son his new digs, in his eyes, as a "spacious" one-bedroom apartment. The visit left them both teary-eyed.
"My son looked at me with a sense of pride," LeBerth said. "It's probably the best gift I ever got."
In December, Paste BN featured LeBerth, a demolition worker and a recovering cocaine addict, in a story about the rise of "tiny homes," typically 60- to 300-square-foot structures that offer free shelter for thousands of homeless people.
LeBerth, who had lived in a tiny home at Camp Second Chance for the past four years, was anxiously hoping to get into an apartment in time for Christmas.
Living in 'transitional homelessness'
LeBerth was in "transitional homelessness," in which people go to shelters for a limited time before moving into a more stable home, according to the National Coalition for the Homeless, an advocacy group.
Finding permanent housing should be the goal for all who are unhoused, said Barbara Poppe, a homelessness expert and a former government official.
"You still have to invest in permanent housing," said Poppe, who served as the executive director of the U.S. Interagency Council on Homelessness in the Obama administration. "Otherwise, an ongoing cycle continues."
LeBerth, who works for a demolition company, was a bit heartbroken in November after learning he couldn't move into an apartment building for those 55 and older near Seattle.
Tiny homes can lead to permanent housing
LeBerth was staying in a community built by the Low Income Housing Institute, which constructs most of the tiny homes in the area – through a combination of private and public funding. Nearly 50% of the tiny home residents eventually secure permanent affordable housing.
LeBerth said he thought a felony conviction that sent him to prison for selling drugs more than two decades ago would come back to haunt him and derail his opportunity to get a permanent apartment.
“I said to myself, ‘I've been good for 22 years, but I guess I’m never going to get out that hole,’” LeBerth said. “Can I get a break or what?”
In early December, LeBerth found out that an apartment board gave its approval for him to move into a Section 8 apartment.
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“It’d be nice to finally have my own place,” LeBerth said in an email to Paste BN after he learned of the board's decision. He credits his case manager for her persistence in helping him secure the one-bedroom that he moved into the weekend before Christmas.
Moving beyond homelessness
Before the holiday, LeBerth slowly moved five plastic bins and bags into his new place on the first floor. He's grateful that a longtime friend came all the way from Arkansas to help him out.
"I don't have that much, yet," he said.
He soon got a mattress, some used antique redwood end tables and a couple of dressers, along with a few pots and plates. He may turn part of the bedroom into a workroom, and he plans to add furniture.
That will include chairs for the patio that he calls his special hangout where he watches people come and go from the building. He frequently leaves the patio door open to remind him of his time in the tiny homes village where he spent a lot of time outdoors.
He doesn't miss having to dress and go outside to use one of the camp's portable bathrooms. In his apartment, LeBerth said, he can use his own bathroom "with a warm toilet seat" and go right back to sleep.
Sometimes in bed, LeBerth looks up at the ceiling and thinks about how he's gone from living in a cozy tiny home to having "a tall roof over my head."
LeBerth has lived in houses before with his ex-wives and kids, but he said this time is special because having his own place symbolizes that he's rebuilding his life.
LeBerth said that when he's by himself, he often has mixed emotions, a little bit of "survivor's guilt" because he's in a nice warm place while a lot of his friends are back at the tiny homes village, still trying to make it day-by-day.
"I sometimes feel alone," he said. "It's not like I don't have neighbors anymore, but it's not like being in camp where you know everyone around you. Everybody helped each other, and now it’s like optional if you want to say hi to your neighbor or not.
"But this was my third shot getting a place," he continued. "There was no way I was going to turn this down."
LeBerth's wide range of emotions is normal, said Edward Poa, a forensic psychiatrist at the Menninger Clinic in Houston.
"As we go through ups and downs in life, joy can often be a bit more bittersweet as you get older," Poa said. "Whenever you go through a tough situation with a band of brothers, helping each other survive, you really build close bonds, and being homeless can definitely (qualify)."
Over time, Poa said, LeBerth may be able to "embrace the joy."
From tiny house to home of his own
LeBerth admitted it will take him time to adjust to his new surroundings. He knows two neighbors who lived in his tiny homes village and they realize moving represents a much-needed and well-deserved change.
LeBerth vowed he won't be a stranger to his old stomping grounds as he remains committed to helping build tiny homes, just like his former place. He gave a couple of tearful and motivational speeches to others about how they will be able to move out.
LeBerth said he wants to own a house. Someday.
"I'm going to get myself a nice little place," LeBerth said. "I'm going to fix it up and call it my home."
Follow Terry Collins on Twitter @terryscollins