Now and Here
Richer than you think (In memory of Martin Tarback)
I took this picture almost a year ago, without knowing anything about the person in it. My aim was to show the ironic and very sad contrast between the homeless person sleeping by this bank machine, and the sign and slogan above it.
Much later, J. Mac below posted the person's name, Martin Tarback, and some information about him. And now we have news that he has died.
There was a good article remembering Martin in the March 19, 2009 Kitchener-Waterloo Record. With full credit to them, I will quote it here in its entirety:
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The life story of 'Dreadlocks' could move beat cops to tears
March 19, 2009
Greg Mercer
RECORD STAFF
KITCHENER
Few men can make a room full of street-hardened police officers tear up.
But Martin Tarback could, such was the pull of his story -- of an adult life often spent with no place to call home, lost in the black hole of mental illness. He was an imposing, gentle giant, nicknamed "Dreadlocks," who shuffled around Kitchener's streets, where he lived for almost 20 years.
Tarback died Tuesday at Freeport Health Centre after a long struggle with cancer. He was 41.
Many who moved through downtown -- outreach workers, business owners, residents -- knew the man with the long beard and dreadlocks who often dressed in layers of tattered, dark clothing.
But Tarback also left an impact on the group of men and women who have walked the streets as officers of the Waterloo Regional Police.
For the beat cops of the Frederick Street police station, he was just Martin -- the guy they'd give a pair of boots, gloves, long johns, a bit of money or the occasional cigarette.
"There wasn't a foot patrol officer in our division who didn't know him," said Supt. Bryan Larkin, who has known Tarback since he was a rookie constable in his early 20s.
"Our streetscape has changed forever, because he was such a friendly, familiar face."
News of Tarback's death made for a sad day the police station yesterday, he said. Many remembered him from sensitivity training sessions where Tarback would be brought in to tell his story to a room full of 30 or 40 officers.
"On many occasions, he brought the room to tears," Larkin said. "He moved many officers who had worked with him for years."
Despite his rough appearance, Tarback earned a soft spot in the hearts of people who met him.
Strangers would buy him coffee. Little old ladies gave him chocolates. Downtown store owners bought him clothes and once put him up in a Victoria Street motel.
"A lot of people tried to help him," said Mark Garner, executive director of the Kitchener Downtown Business Association. "But he wanted to do things on his own terms, and he did it his own way."
By all accounts, Tarback had a normal childhood. In his teen years, he was a good-looking young man, with a steady hand on a pool cue and piercing eyes. He went to Eastwood Collegiate Institute and had a loving family.
But mental illness was slowly clouding his reality. By his 20s, he was living on the streets, sleeping in ATM lobbies, and turning away from the medication and doctors who could have offered him a more normal life.
Tarback had his good periods, when he'd accept help for his alcoholism and mental illness from the city's social agencies. And he had his bad periods, when he was unreachable.
Many people quietly looked out for him. He had an account at the King Street TD Bank branch, and could access a daily allotment there.
Many who came to really know him, saw him as more than just a man on the street, holding out his hand.
For many in downtown, he was a reminder that everyone has a story to tell, and everyone has hidden scars, Larkin said.
And for other people living on the street, Tarback's legacy just might be a kinder, more understanding police force.
"If we see somebody with their arm in a sling, we go 'oh, they must be hurt" Larkin said. "But it's much harder to see the signs of someone suffering from mental illness."
A memorial service is planned for Friday, March 27 at 3 p.m. at St. John's Community Kitchen, 97 Victoria St. N.
[Above article from The Record.]
Richer than you think (In memory of Martin Tarback)
I took this picture almost a year ago, without knowing anything about the person in it. My aim was to show the ironic and very sad contrast between the homeless person sleeping by this bank machine, and the sign and slogan above it.
Much later, J. Mac below posted the person's name, Martin Tarback, and some information about him. And now we have news that he has died.
There was a good article remembering Martin in the March 19, 2009 Kitchener-Waterloo Record. With full credit to them, I will quote it here in its entirety:
---
The life story of 'Dreadlocks' could move beat cops to tears
March 19, 2009
Greg Mercer
RECORD STAFF
KITCHENER
Few men can make a room full of street-hardened police officers tear up.
But Martin Tarback could, such was the pull of his story -- of an adult life often spent with no place to call home, lost in the black hole of mental illness. He was an imposing, gentle giant, nicknamed "Dreadlocks," who shuffled around Kitchener's streets, where he lived for almost 20 years.
Tarback died Tuesday at Freeport Health Centre after a long struggle with cancer. He was 41.
Many who moved through downtown -- outreach workers, business owners, residents -- knew the man with the long beard and dreadlocks who often dressed in layers of tattered, dark clothing.
But Tarback also left an impact on the group of men and women who have walked the streets as officers of the Waterloo Regional Police.
For the beat cops of the Frederick Street police station, he was just Martin -- the guy they'd give a pair of boots, gloves, long johns, a bit of money or the occasional cigarette.
"There wasn't a foot patrol officer in our division who didn't know him," said Supt. Bryan Larkin, who has known Tarback since he was a rookie constable in his early 20s.
"Our streetscape has changed forever, because he was such a friendly, familiar face."
News of Tarback's death made for a sad day the police station yesterday, he said. Many remembered him from sensitivity training sessions where Tarback would be brought in to tell his story to a room full of 30 or 40 officers.
"On many occasions, he brought the room to tears," Larkin said. "He moved many officers who had worked with him for years."
Despite his rough appearance, Tarback earned a soft spot in the hearts of people who met him.
Strangers would buy him coffee. Little old ladies gave him chocolates. Downtown store owners bought him clothes and once put him up in a Victoria Street motel.
"A lot of people tried to help him," said Mark Garner, executive director of the Kitchener Downtown Business Association. "But he wanted to do things on his own terms, and he did it his own way."
By all accounts, Tarback had a normal childhood. In his teen years, he was a good-looking young man, with a steady hand on a pool cue and piercing eyes. He went to Eastwood Collegiate Institute and had a loving family.
But mental illness was slowly clouding his reality. By his 20s, he was living on the streets, sleeping in ATM lobbies, and turning away from the medication and doctors who could have offered him a more normal life.
Tarback had his good periods, when he'd accept help for his alcoholism and mental illness from the city's social agencies. And he had his bad periods, when he was unreachable.
Many people quietly looked out for him. He had an account at the King Street TD Bank branch, and could access a daily allotment there.
Many who came to really know him, saw him as more than just a man on the street, holding out his hand.
For many in downtown, he was a reminder that everyone has a story to tell, and everyone has hidden scars, Larkin said.
And for other people living on the street, Tarback's legacy just might be a kinder, more understanding police force.
"If we see somebody with their arm in a sling, we go 'oh, they must be hurt" Larkin said. "But it's much harder to see the signs of someone suffering from mental illness."
A memorial service is planned for Friday, March 27 at 3 p.m. at St. John's Community Kitchen, 97 Victoria St. N.
[Above article from The Record.]