The porch, located between St. Mary’s Catholic Church and the United Methodist Church on Jefferson street, is a seasonal safe haven for homeless men.

“This summer is the most we’ve seen. There were probably 10 to 12 people out there,” said Father Jeff, who has lived in the parish house for four years now.

The men who sleep on the porch fit no common mold. (Only men are allowed out of respect for Catholicism’s anti-fornication beliefs.) One man spends his summers in Iowa City but winters in Acapulco. One man was a painter by trade and from Tennessee, but he couldn’t find work in his area. He was still paying the bills on his house back home. He pitched a tent out back.

Some of the porch sleepers came to Iowa City to help flood recovery efforts and couldn’t afford housing. Then there was also the occasional troublemaker.

Father Jeff said that they really aren’t sure what to do with the porch but they recognize the need for it.

“It’s a matter of how much can we help and what’s the right way,” he said. “It’s pretty hard to say you can’t stay here and then preach the gospel in the morning.”

Some men who slept there moved out of the Shelter House because they are drinkers. The Shelter House in Iowa City does not provide a bed for intoxicated people.

“We try to accommodate people until there is conflict,” Father Jeff said.

If the police are called, then everybody has to leave the porch for a while. It doesn’t happen very often but when it does, it’s usually at 2 a.m. and nobody is sure who is at fault. One year they had some drunk try to beat up an air conditioner. There was nobody on the porch for a month.

The fathers don’t really police the porch, but occasionally someone will point out a particular person who is causing trouble and they address it. They do ask that no one smoke on the porch, but the burn holes tell the story.

The fathers put up a new sign that reads “No smoking. Please remove items from porch when you leave or they will be taken to the dumpster.”

“We are afraid that someday the house will burn down.” Father Jeff said.

People come here because they assume it’s a safe place. Father Jeff said he is more likely to get asked for money down on the Ped Mall than at the porch. People just need a place to go. The open porch provides some protection from the elements, but this time of year guys will sometimes ask for a warm blanket. Father Jeff occasionally goes shopping for bargains on blankets.

St. Mary’s, who owns the parish house where the porch is located, is one of the largest contributors to the services for the homeless in Iowa City. Five percent of the church’s collection plate goes to the Peace and Justice Commission, which supports local, national and global concerns including the homeless overflow fund. St. Mary’s provides support for the Shelter House, the Salvation Army and Johnson County’s Crisis Center.

Father Jeff has had an opportunity to get to know some of the guys who have stayed at the porch.

“Usually, you’ll see them for a month or two and then they’ll disappear for a while,” he said. “Sometimes they come back.”

Sometimes the regulars get tired of dealing with the troublemakers that are passing through.

In the summer, people slept all over the place, in the driveway, on the grass by the driveway and in the stairwell by the church. Guys used to keep their blankets in the stairwell. The fathers pitched in and bought a container for the blankets. They placed the container out back, but that didn’t prevent things from getting stolen.

They closed the stairwell off because they had a problem of people defecating there. Some were pretty particular about what spot they slept in and would wake a guy up in the middle of the night because he was sleeping in his spot. Some come to the porch late at night reeking of alcohol. And some would stay up with beer, smoking cigarettes and talking loudly, making it harder for others to sleep.

The first thing that happened in the morning was I couldn’t find my glasses. I stumbled towards the second stage area and a tripping guy met me. He said I believe that there was some important reason that I was supposed to meet you at this time and he handed me a bowl, which I promptly took a toke.

I said, “7/22/66, 42, life the universe and everything.”

He said, “Got it.” The rest of the day he was tripping on parts of my conversation. I was told that four guys did some kind of trip. I guess it was synthetic mescaline. Three guys were okay and the other guy went around biting people until somebody jacked him.

Then I found my glasses and all the guys in the second stage area were happy. I ran into a guy who I had asked to buy me a drink the other night. He was throwing a fest in I think Storm Lake August 21. Anyway he got me high and I met his wife. He told stories about how he lined up the bands for the upcoming gig.

A girl with tie-dye everything including socks came up with her boyfriend. She had a Space Your Face tattoo on her back. She was from Des Moines. I told her I used to live there and asked her if she had ever heard of my buddy. She said no but asked me if I had ever been to Greenwood Park. I said, “yes.” She said, “It’s the shit.” Then she wandered off and I didn’t see her again.

I had a rather difficult time returning the red rose blanket. I went in the general direction where I got it and no one seemed to know whose it was. I left it at a campsite.

Then I was on to the Cow Tipping Cafe. I simply had to get a free burrito. I asked the girl if she could hook me up. I said my home boys are missing out. I told her I was working today and that we could make it happen. She hooked me up.

I talked to some guys who were joking about the free coffee. I told them there were a lot of people getting coffee and if we thought about it hard enough we could make it happen. I went up and the girl at the Cow Tipping Cafe hooked me up with free coffee.

Then it was time to go to work. Three or four of us got on this tractor-pulled trailer thing sort of like a hayrack ride. We went around emptying the garbage along the beaten track. Someone said, “Bring out your dead.” We emptied the trash in a huge dumpster and the cans in a can pile. There must have been a fortune in cans.

Then this sociology major from Ames and I took off in separate directions with a bag and went to the individual campsites to pick up trash. It was cool to meet all the people and they were glad to have their trash removed.

For some reason I stopped at the nurse’s station to have my foot looked at. I was immediately placed on the injured reserve list. The curvaceous 28-year-old nurse who also worked at the hospital couldn’t believe it didn’t hurt. She dressed my wounds, wrapped it up and gave me some clean socks. The greatest thing was her touch. I joked that she could tie me up if she wanted to. We talked about the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and the guy who got a fishhook stuck in his head the night before. She sent me on my way and told me to stay off the foot. I simply couldn’t be on the sidelines at the fest.

I had an interesting conversation with a girl who was going to a Catholic school to be a social worker. I tried to tell her not to be a social worker. But, then I realized it was her trip and as much as I dislike social workers they are necessary. I was complaining that I should be dead already. That Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Bob Marley all died young. She went on to say that Jerry Garcia lived a full life, Kurt Vonnegut lived a long life, Aerosmith is still around, Bob Dylan is still alive and Keith Richards is still alive. I said I guess I got some unfinished business to take care of and just because my buddy is gone doesn’t mean it’s over.

I was hungry and went in search of something to eat. A group of people hooked me up with some turkey burgers and vodka. I remember the blonde because I was impressed that she took calculus in high school. They said they didn’t care they only wanted to be mentioned in my book. They were concerned and wanted to take me to the nurse’s station but I told them that I just came from there.

For a while I was all over the campground talking about how treatment centers made you a better drug addict. I talked to a black girl about the monkeys and the ghost we caught on tape. I talked to a girl in the bar about the mural and how the black guys at Palmer used to call me Jeffrey Dahmer. I think she was convinced that I was going to kill her.

I ran into a guy at the nurse’s station who wore a shirt that was obviously advertising psychedelic mushrooms. I told him to work on that white rabbit. I saw him again with another mushroom T-Shirt on. I asked him if he could hook me up since I rode up there on a bicycle and all. He said he would if he saw me later. I looked all over for him the rest of the night. Someone said he had a tent near the nurse’s station.

Between the second stage and the house, I was seeing trails and a guy dressed in a costume that looked like something form another century in France. I said to a guy in a Jim Morrison T-Shirt, “It will be all right if I just don’t talk to anybody.”

He said, “No, you got to talk to everybody.”

The rest of the night I told everybody if I made an ass out of myself you can find the guy in the Jim Morrison T-Shirt and beat him up.

I ran into three people from Muscatine. One was a typical river rat named Steve. My dad was his sponsor for a while. Last time I asked him for some spare change he reluctantly gave it to me and said he was going to kick my ass one of these days. I asked him if he knew where to get some shrooms. He said I needed money. He went around telling people what a big freak I was in Muscatine. I had to disassociate for the fest.

I remember waltzing to Casey Jones. Sitting with a guy who was tripping on acid, it was like Apocalypse Now. I was caught by the stage by one of the nurses who told me I had to sit down. For a while I was running and hiding from the nurses. I went to the first camp I visited to hide out. It was like a scene from The Outsiders. Sometimes I would try to find their camp and wind up talking to a whole different bunch of people. I tried to hide out in the cornfield for a while. I stole a sweatshirt because I was cold. A tall black guy who was in a band and his girl caught up to me. I apologized profusely the next day.

The sociology major from Ames and I were in charge of parking cars. He was dancing around all crazy and waving his flag. Every time he would say, go past that trash can and find a place to park. Every time a car would roll up, I would just burst out laughing. We took turns going out into the parking lot to talk to new arrivals only the sociology major wasn’t into it like I was. When a band started playing “Sympathy for the Devil,” I rushed into the crowd waving my flag. Finally the girl at the gate said the people can figure out where to park go have fun.

There were some people dancing with fire. It looked more like a dream than reality.

I started to worry that the white rabbit wasn’t going to happen. I went back to find a place to crash. I had heard about the Gglitch. I guess they were supposed to be the Sunday-morning-going-to-church-with-it main event. I ran into one of the guys from the band. I told him I can’t make it work tonight I’m going to sleep. I think I slept about 5 minutes and was off to the second stage.

The white rabbit guy was there and handed me a mushroom at 2:00 a.m. I remember talking to a guy who had a book on DMT before it stated to kick in. He looked like a guy I met at a roof party. He said he had my back. Then someone said, Discover nature, go to the cornfield. I remember walking on gravel and the rocks wouldn’t stay still. Yes, I was there for the Gglitch and the white rabbit happened.

When I came down I passed around my website. The guy in the green pants said you won’t get into an airport with this, they’ll think it’s a Jihad.

I rode home on the Fuji and returned the bike to Worm. The White Rabbit store opened August 5 in Iowa City, but it was a low-key event and the song no longer plays in the sky.