THE ECLIPSE
On Thursday, November 26, 2009, Thanksgiving Day, the Eclipse Restaurant and Supper Club located at 2820 Bladensburg Road, N.E., in Washington, D.C. 20018, eclipse.dc2@gmail.com, invited, picked up, and honored homeless women and men in their establishment to enjoy a very special and generous Thanksgiving dinner.  In my estimation, there were approximately 200 guest that at the present time lived in shelters.
Mr. and Mrs. Bartwell, owners of the Eclipse, were the hosts.  However, it was Mrs. Gwen Bartwell that organized the event.   Both promised me on several occasions that I could get an interview with Mrs. Bartwell.  Its two years later and i have not heard from her.

I signed up as a volunteer.  Gwen called me and gave me the instructions for that day.  When I arrived at the Eclipse around 11 am, the majority of the guests were seated and waiting to be served.  There were approximately 250 volunteers--too many.  Some were doing things and others were waiting to get an assignment.  All of the volunteers wanted to be a part of this special occasion.  Of course, Shorte' was there managing the floor and Carlton was managing and preparing the food.  The food was plentiful and scrupulous.  The deejays, 007 and Turk's son, TP, kept the music going.  Ron V was there.  JoJo Nelson was there.  One of the TV channels was there (I think it was channel 4) and so was the Councilman for Ward 5, Harry Thompson, Jr. 
I was impressed with the parents of the many youth and young adults for encouraging and exposing their children to something positive and constructive as sharing and giving.  The volunteers were helpful and pleasant, however, there was one little girl around 8 or 9 that was so into making a difference with her friendly, loveable, and adorable self.  She has a beautiful spirit and no fear of her mission.   All we had to do was serve two plates and we were done for the serving part.  I served and grabbed a plate and sat with two brothers.  Talked with them a while and sat at a table with about five sisters.  I asked them if they would be excited and attend a hand dance class if I came to their shelter and taught it.  They all said yes.
When I was 35 yeras old, my mother had a successful operation of her duct gland, however, while in recovery she had a stroke and died.  Before the operation, I asked her if I needed to worry and she said no.  We agreed that my other sisters would visit her in the hospital and I would care for her when she came home.  She never came home and her death nearly killed me, emotionally.  I was not prepared for her death and could not handle the grief.  I was so upset.  I couldn't get myself together to attend her funeral and I felt so bad about that.  I noticed that I was getting worse by not being able to handle responsibility.  I went to the hospital and the doctor said that my nerves were bad and gave me some little red nerve pills.  I put my personal business in some type of order and called a shelter to see if I could stay there.  For 20 months, I found myself in a world that I knew nothing about.  A world where people were hurting more than me.  A world where a human being's misfortune was caused by an act of God, society, or his or her own judgment calls.
I spent 20 months in the homeless shelter community observing, asking questions, understanding, and being a friend to my comrades.  I didn't get into the sex, alcohol, drugs, or panhandling part of the homeless community.  I was busy finding out "why" and "how" people got into their predicaments.  By getting into the reason why other people were homeless, helped me to deal with my own grief which made me realize how to accept my mom's death and not blame myself for not being there for her.  My comrades called me the social worker of the streets.  I have always lived a middle class life but by me being so naive of the streets, the homeless community protected me and taught me things.  They taught me the mind set of how to fight, which I knew nothing about.  Then an alcoholic woman, for whatever reason, threw a pie in my face as I was leaving from dinner.  I chased her up the steps taking 4 steps at a time, grabbed her, threw her on the car, and proceeded to choke her until life left her.  It took not one, not two, but three men to pull me off of her.  Later we forgave one another.  She told me that it was the alcohol that made her do that to me and I told her she needs to stop drinking it because it almost got her killed.  My best friends were two white Catholic Nuns.  They taught me the social work aspects of the homeless scene.  After 20 months, I came to my senses and forgave myself over my mom's death.  I went back into society a stronger and a more emotionally controlled woman.  However, I cried when I had to leave but my Dad was too worried about me.  Whenever I spoke of "homelessness" to my Dad, he would remind that I was never homeless because I always had a home to come back to.  For 7 years, I volunteered at several homeless shelters.  A lot of people think that I should write a book on this experience and so do I--eventually.
On November 30, I called the CC&D Shelter at 2nd and D Street, N.W. to inquire if I could teach a hand dance class there, free.  I asked for a meeting and they were suppose to be setting up a date.  This dance might make some of them feel good about him or her selves.  I am looking for a miracle but I will take a blessing.  As an update, the shelter never called me back on that meeting and I called them about 10-15 times.
The Eclipse--Mrs. Gwen Bartwell, husband, and company--It was beautiful.  Thank you for being you and for your idea, creativity, and love to help people with special needs.  I am thrilled that I was part of this endeavor with you.  May God bless you and your family lavishly.  Love, Marcia
WRITTEN BY MARCIA FOSTER
Mrs. Gwen Bartwell and daughter