But, how did they get there? People have preconceived notions to that question. We see people standing near the local discount stores or by a stop sign or stop light, sometimes with a dog or a little child, with a sign asking for help. 

Or, we see a car with the raised hood and a person standing nearby with a piece of cardboard that states, “ Need gas.” 

Most everyone has probably thought at one point, “Why don’t they just get a job?”

As the adage states, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Three people with varying stories recently shared how they succumbed to poverty. All three became homeless and all have some similarities — including a willingness to share their personal stories.

• • •

Meet Yolanda Brito. She is originally from Flagstaff, grew up in Winslow and graduated in 1976 from Winslow High School. She is the mother of six children, two of whom are now deceased. She is also a grandmother and has the responsibility of taking care of two of her female teenage grandchildren — she had five grandchildren in her care at one point.

Brito had a job with Safeway in Flagstaff and drove almost daily between work and her home in Winslow — a 45-minute one-way commute. One night, her car was parked in its usual spot at work when a drunk driver struck it, leaving her without transportation.

Brito had vehicle insurance, but the insurance company allegedly drug its proverbial feet during the claims process. She had kept her employer apprised of her circumstances from the beginning, but had to resign from her job because she did not have reliable transportation— a requirement for most jobs. It was the only way she felt she could protect her work record, and she knew by doing this she was also making herself ineligible for unemployment. She had been with Safeway for 12 years.

While resolving the insurance situation, Brito had to move in with her sister and brother-in-law, who were also housing one of her daughters and the daughter’s three children in a two-bedroom house. 

The brother-in-law was on disability at the time, and conditions were such that she and her grandchildren had to seek refuge in a car. They were still able to take showers inside the home, but the car became their “sleeping place.”

They were homeless. They ate wherever friends invited them.

Brito said she wanted to work, but added it was difficult to do while living in a vehicle. She also wanted to provide a stable atmosphere for her grandchildren, ages 14 and 16.

Section 8 Housing is closed; there is a five-year waiting list and applications are not being accepted at the moment. This was the case in both Winslow and Flagstaff.

A proud person, Brito sought help through Old Concho Community Assistance Center because of her grandchildren. They were lucky enough to be accepted into the program and have moved into an apartment. She is currently in what is called Stage I, where she can stay up to 90 days while getting back on her feet. 

One of the teens is already enrolled in an online school and the other, once she gets caught up, will be able to be part of the A Positive School program.

Brito has been submitting employment applications everywhere. She is not unemployable. With a place to go home to every night, she is able to hunt for a job. She is willing to take anything and knows she will work her way up. 

Not only did she work for Safeway, but she also worked for Basha’s. She has been a deli manager and a scan coordinator for the grocery stores, and she has a food handler’s license. She can pass a drug test and has good references.

Brito holds out hope every day that she will get that call to return to work. One employer has already told her they are performing a background check. If she gets that job, she will start at $11.70 per hour.

She is getting food from the community food box program and knows how to cook and make things stretch. With rent not extremely expensive in Winslow, Brito said she can make it if she gets that job.

Brito never expected to find herself taking care of grandchildren, nor did she ever expect that someone would hit her car and that an insurance snag would keep her from being able to work. She also never expected to wind up living in a car.

Brito has a work ethic. She learned from her mother how to respect people and be responsible. She also learned customer service skills from her employment with Safeway.

Brito’s car payment is due Nov. 26 and it must be paid. With a positive attitude, Brito said, “I have a food handler’s license. I took an eight-hour class in food management when I was with Bashas', and I have a stove, all by the Grace of God. I will make burritos and sell them and make my car payment this month.”

Brito said that life is full of trials and tribulations, and when she gets down, she talks to Furrh and is able to get herself back “up.” 

She reminds herself that winter is here and she is grateful to be inside and no longer sleeping in her car.

And she believes someone will call telling her to come to work.

• • •

Meet Daniel Montgomery. He is 23 and grew up in Holbrook. He had an alcoholic father as well as alcoholics on his mother’s side of the family. He became a father at 17. He left high school and went with the baby’s mother to Winslow to start raising their little girl together. He earned his GED and worked many different jobs, but he had an alcohol problem that led to the demise of his relationship with his baby’s mother and his daughter.

When she kicked him out, he didn’t want to return to Holbrook. Having no place to go and still drinking, he began living in his car. At that time, it was summer.

He had wrecked his car while drinking and had blown out the passenger side window. Since it was summer at the time, it didn’t really matter to him. He parked wherever he could to sleep for the night, whether it was a fast food restaurant, a motel parking lot or at the hospital. He is one-quarter Native American, so he would go to the IHS Gym to take a shower and wash his clothes. He would dry those hand-washed clothes in the sun. 

He pulled weeds and did other odd jobs for money, but he continued to drink and get in trouble with the law. Police eventually nailed him on a DUI charge. Not only did he not have a place to live, he was facing possible jail time and fines.

He found a job as a dishwasher at Fargo and made the decision that his life needed to go in a different direction. He quit drinking on Nov. 1, 2015.

A co-worker found out he was living in his car and reached out to Cindy Furrh at OCCHA. Furrh interviewed and approved him, and he was in an apartment six days later.

Montgomery had to answer for his drinking and other charges. He was placed on intensive outpatient probation for 16 weeks — 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday through Thursday — at Winslow Guidance Center. He was also ordered to attend three Alcoholics Anonymous meetings each week.

Having been diagnosed with both alcoholism and SMI — Serious Mental Illness — Montgomery qualified for an extended period of help while on his road to recovery. He was put on medication for SMI and did not like the way they made him feel. After two months, he was able to get off the medication and permanently stay off.

His probation officer visited him at least twice a month. Montgomery said she could have administered a drug test on him at any time. A year later, he has done well and the probation officer only visits once per month.

While at WGC, Montgomery decided to re-establish a relationship with his daughter with whom he was not allowed to see. He applied for custody, continued to pay his fines and managed to pay the filing fee to the court for the custody matter. He was granted custody to see his daughter.

Beginning that relationship, his daughter was scared at first. She didn’t really know him, Montgomery said.

“Now she loves to come and sometimes she doesn’t want to leave,” he said. “It touches my heart.”

Having had no structure himself while growing up, he spoke to his sponsor about the situation with his daughter and received some sound advice about which he takes seriously: “Ninety nine percent of the time, a girl goes after men who resemble their fathers, so you need to be the man she may want to meet some day.”

Then he told Montgomery to close his eyes and imagine his daughter dating someone like himself.

Montgomery told him he did not like what he saw.

“Then change it,” the sponsor said.

Montgomery recently graduated from the IOP program at WGC. He is no longer a dishwasher at Falcon. He is, instead, a cook. His appearance has gone from that of a long-haired, alley-sleeping alcoholic headed for the psych ward to that of a nice, neat young man one would never suspect had been down the road he has traveled. 

Montgomery feels good about himself today. He said he was depressed and had a lot of anxiety when he arrived at OCCHA, and he paced a lot. Today, he is hopeful. He still cannot drive a car unless he gets an Interlock device, but states, without sounding like a victim, “I am not financially ready for that.”

“I have a lot to offer to a lot of people in similar situations,” Montgomery said.

Montgomery wants to be a substance abuse counselor. He has already applied to Northland Pioneer College and Grand Canyon University. He pulled out something from his pocket, a deep pride showing on his face. It was his one-year coin for sobriety from AA.

Montgomery also is laden with tattoos on his left arm. He drew the tattoos himself and they carry with them deep meaning. He pointed to each one and said,

“This one reminds me to never give up on my dreams; this one of the moon tells me that friendship is important; this one says your past does not define you; and this one says that even if you feel weak, you can become something strong.”

Montgomery’s life right now consists of drawing, writing, AA, going to work and counseling, and spending time with his daughter. If he does get down, he draws on support from Furrh and AA.

From the car with the blown out window and sleeping in a parked vehicle to an apartment that is clean, as well as with all the changes he has made in his life, Montgomery is well on his way to being the man his daughter will look for in a man one day.

• • •

Meet Joseph. He is from Second Mesa, a census-designated place in Navajo County of about 800 people on the Hopi Reservation. This is a place where alcoholism and substance abuse runs rampant.

Joseph is only 21, but calls himself an “old soul” because of all the things he has seen an experienced that caused him to grow up too fast.

Joseph was recently released from federal prison, where he served a two-year sentence. The reason for his crime is marked “closed.” He did not wish to reveal the nature of the crime or his full name, but wanted to tell his story because people may not understand how it is for someone who is re-entering society and trying to make a go of it.

It is not surprising that Joseph found himself homeless; he has only been out of prison since May. 

Joseph said that upon release, he was dropped off at a Greyhound bus station. All of a sudden, he was free to do as he wished, but he didn’t know what to do. Now there is no set schedule. Everything in prison is based on a strict schedule. Prisoners know what is expected, as well as they can and cannot do. 

Being free suddenly requires an adjustment.

Joseph secured an apartment through OCCHA and is currently involved in a job search. He is a large man who is pleasant looking and appears to be strong and healthy. He keeps in shape by playing basketball, which also keeps his stress level down while he transitions back to the outside world.  

Life on the outside is different. The sights, sounds and everyday living present their own challenges, and adjustment does not happen overnight.

Federal prison is a place where one is sent when a federal crime, such as kidnapping, bank robbery and crossing state lines during the commission of a crime, is committed. Federal prison is filled with heinous people where it could be physically dangerous. 

Joseph said that life in federal prison is all about “respect,” and something as simple as how you carry yourself shows that. You immediately learn to stay “with your own kind” — people from your culture and background. You always are watching your back.

Being on the outside, Joseph said he feels as if he has been thrown back into prison of a different sort — a prison of the unknown.

You have trouble sleeping. You react to such things such as a “popping sound,” which equates to a gun going off and somebody being shot. Things as simple as a door shutting un-nerve you because it brings back the memory of someone being pulled out of their cell. You are programmed for survival to watch your back. Even eating takes a period of adjustment. You have lived on MREs — Meals Ready to Eat — and it takes about two weeks for your digestive system to adjust to real-world food again. You are literally sick from anything you eat. 

Getting a job is paramount. Joseph is currently searching for a job but does not feel having been in prison is a deterrent. He said in the area where he lives, “everybody is carrying paper.” He maintains a positive attitude while searching and is just waiting for a call.

“There is no room for self pity or negativity,” Joseph said.

Joseph is positive about his future and plans to succeed. He has already applied to Fort Lewis College in Durango, Colo., a college that is mandated to offer free tuition to qualified Native Americans. 

• • •

You have met three different people from varying walks of life from Navajo County who found themselves in poverty and homeless. The common thread they possess is crucial to making it — not giving up and staying positive. 

It is said that most Americans are just a paycheck away from being homeless. In meeting Yolanda, Daniel and Joseph, with the world we are in today, one cannot help but say, “There, but by the Grace of God, go I.”

An unknown author said, “It is easy to look at people and make quick judgments about them, their present and their past, but you’d be amazed at the pain and tears a single smile hides. What a person shows to the world is only one tiny facet of the iceberg hidden from sight. And more often than not, it’s lined with cracks and scars that go all the way to the foundation of their soul. Never judge, learn to respect and acknowledge the feelings of another.” 

Not everyone is able to climb back up from the ground floor of poverty even with help. Currently, OCCHA is helping 14 people in Winslow, four in Holbrook, 18 in Show Low, four in Snowflake, six in St. Johns, and three in Springerville. 

Poverty is real. Apache and Navajo County are the two poorest counties in Arizona.

Reach the reporter at

bbruce@wmicentral.com