BY KRISTA RAMSEY The Cincinnati Enquirer Everybody loves a comeback story. This one has nothing to do with washed up athletes, politicians re-emerging from scandal, or even Donald Trump and the art of the deal. What Donald Whitehead and James Heath came back to was life. Two years ago they were addicts. Homeless, broke, tired, lost. Addiction had cost them everything and everyone. It had hollowed out their lives. I interviewed them just before Christmas at the Drop-Inn Center, the downtown shelter where they were living. They were giving recovery one more try. Neither one was completely sure he wanted to live, or that he deserved to. Homelessness - the word that terrifies the rest of us - was far down on the list of Donald's and James' terrors. Their nightmare was addiction. Addiction is an unpleasant word for most of us, but one that hardly makes us shake and sweat. For Donald and James, it was an enemy. The enemy. You could understand nothing about the psychology of addiction and still feel its hold over them, hear it in their voices, see it in their eyes. It was like being in Vietnam, they told me. Like waking up, every day, in Vietnam.
'Divine intervention'This was a war I wanted them to win. I could see what kind of men they were, had been, could be. They were fragile, just weeks into recovery, but they were wise in ways most of us will never be.From that first interview on, our lives were strangely, and perhaps wondrously, intertwined. Donald spoke to my daughter's Brownie troop. James sent me samples of his photography. I met Donald's lovely fiancee, Linda. We sent hellos and messages of encouragement back and forth. A few weeks ago, I sat down with Donald and James again. Geographically, they had come only a few blocks up Elm Street from our meeting two years earlier. They had moved from the Drop-Inn Shelter to the small, tawdry headquarters of the Greater Cincinnati Coalition for the Homeless. But this time they weren't clients. Donald Whitehead is now executive director of the coalition. He lobbies City Hall on homeless issues, writes articles, leads protests, does talk shows, makes speeches. He is healthy, articulate and decidedly sober - not just about alcohol and drugs, but about life. The issues he deals with are difficult, and he is a serious man. So, too, is his new administrative coordinator, a man Donald chose for his extraordinary insight and sensitivity about homeless issues: James Heath. Strong, healthy, smart. The two of them together again. Not living on the streets, but saving people from them. ''This is divine intervention,'' says Donald Whitehead, smiling slightly. ''This is not a job. I'll never have a job again. This is a mission.'' He is quiet for a full minute, figuring something out. ''God had a plan,'' he says in his surprisingly soft voice. ''To get where we are, we had to have homelessness. That was our university.'' I look at James. ''We always come back to that,'' he agrees. ''Where we were and what chances were given us.''
Worthy celebrationWe are all silent for a moment. The story could have turned out so differently, as these men know. Two years ago, they could have slid away from life, leaving hardly a ripple.You may be celebrating something in the week to come, a religious holiday, the coming of spring, a win by your favorite team. Widen the celebration. Add the names of Donald Whitehead and James Heath to your list. A comeback better than the Broncos. A show more dramatic than Titanic. A better wrap-up than the Wildcats. You pick. All I know is that two men are alive, again. And Cincinnati is the better for it. Krista Ramsey's column appears on Saturdays. Write her at the Enquirer, 312 Elm St. Cincinnati 45202.
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