“I really miss my Dad. He is my angel. He’s always been there for me. I want to let him know that I love him and I miss him.”

Lannie has been homeless since she was 13. She has been living in a truck with her son and husband while battling breast cancer (now in remission). Let’s help Lannie reconnect with her dad, Philip Norton Barker, whom she hasn’t seen in 10 years. #miraclemessages

NAME: Lannie Graham
AGE: n/a
LOCATION: Sunnyvale, CA

**LOOKING FOR: her father, Philip Norton Barker, who was originally from the Bay Area, spent time in Spokane, WA, and might currently be living in Tacoma, WA, or Sacramento, CA.

PARTNER ORG: Downtown Streets Team ( GUEST STORYTELLER: Jason Purdy

HOW TO HELP (SAMPLE POST): Lannie, a homeless mother in #Sunnyvale, hasn’t seen her father in 10+ years. RT to change that. #miraclemessages #Tacoma #Spokane #Sacramento

BACKGROUND: On 4/7/2015, Miracle Messages’ volunteer storyteller Jason Purdy met Lannie through the Downtown Streets Team. Lannie has been homeless since age 13, and had been sleeping in a truck with her son and husband until recently when DST helped her get a place. Her breast cancer is now in remission. She is grateful to DST, Sunnyvale Community Services, Catholic Charities, and the Sunnyvale Armory for helping her with services.


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tacoma gothic
  • you drive north, and mt. rainier is on your right.  you drive south, and mt. rainier is on your right.  you drive east and mt. rainier is on your right.  you drive many places, and the mountain is always there, but never where it should be.
  • a putrid smell rolls up from the black waters of the puget sound. locals call it the “tacoma aroma,” but when asked what it is, no one is willing to answer.
  • you assume there is an invisible barrier from north alder to union to proctor that keeps the ups students contained.  you have never seen a single ups student leave this area, but there are scorch marks in the street where a brave few have tried.
  • you have gone to “infinite soups” once.  it was three years ago, and you are still eating soup.  whenever you think you are scraping the last dregs from your to-go bowl, a new soup appears, and it is usually something excruciatingly delicious.  “oh no,” you murmur to yourself, because you are full but it is creamy artichoke–your favorite.  
  • at night, when the wind is blowing in the right direction, you can still hear the shudder and snap of suspension cables, the sound of a ghost bridge collapsing into the water.
  • you can’t remember the last time you saw windows that were clear, signs with words.  the street is only green crosses and sanded glass.  a strange-smelling fog creeps through the streets, but there are no clouds in the sky.  you are suddenly very, very hungry.