Gary Serventi is a storyteller with an extraordinary memory of his adventurous life’s details.
“You’re gonna love this” is a steady refrain. His stories are rich and varied, sometimes humorous, sometimes scary, always engaging.
Gary’s memories of his childhood are driven by a spirit of adventure: a big green station wagon and a mom and stepdad who drove their young family from Detroit to Lake Tahoe to Alaska to California to Las Vegas. As a kid, he loved it. “It was one big adventure,” he said.
But then his stepdad died, and Gary and his two sisters were placed in a Las Vegas foster care facility called Child Haven. He and his sisters were separated, and he was again bouncing around, but this time it was no adventure. He was placed in a series of households, the Geigers, the Reeds, the Emories, back to the Reeds.
Once he turned 18, he joined the Army. The year was 1968, the war was Vietnam, and the young man, after a few short years in basic training, went AWOL. “I didn’t make a good soldier,” Gary said. “I didn’t like authority.”
What followed next were many years of travel minus the adventure, filled instead with drugs and “debauchery.” In his early 30s, Gary tried cocaine, which started him on the path of what became decades of drug addiction.
“My cocaine use really got out of hand,” he said. “Then I thought, why not try crack; it’s easier to get and cheaper. Once I did crack, it was a done deal.”
Gary was in and out of various recovery programs. “I’d do the program,” he said, “and go right back to using.” When he was finally able to get clean from crack, he turned to meth.
“When you’re in your addiction,” Gary said, “you’ve got to figure out on your own when enough is enough.”
The moment Gary finally figured out that “enough is enough” was a night of terrifying hallucinations, both visual and auditory.
“I’m done,” he said the next morning. And he was. He credits his sister and the love they share. He credits his love of others and the need for companionship and healthy intimacy.
“I’m a people person,” he said. “I love people.”
He also credits his relationship with faith communities.
Gary is not suggesting that it’s easy even now; that temptation to use lingers.
“I’ve still got that voice in me,” he said. “I call him Hell Boy. Hell Boy wants to come out and play. He’s a kid. But if nothing changes right here in your head, then nothing changes. You’ve got to change everything.”
“Now look at me!” Gary said, grinning widely. “I’ve been living at Sally McCracken in downtown Portland for three years. I’ve never lived anywhere for three years. It’s my home. I’ve never known a home before! And now I’m learning who I truly am. I’m learning what is truly in me. I’m a good guy!” he said with clarity. “And I love people.”
Having experienced homelessness and societal rejection, Gary draws from his “great empathy for others.” He volunteers at Sisters of the Road and the Portland Rescue Mission.
“I love being part of something bigger than myself,” he said. “I want to give back. My motto: If you appreciate, reciprocate.”
And so he does. Stepping outside onto a sunny street corner a block from Street Roots, Gary was delighted to see a Jeep. “I love Jeeps! Will you take my picture by the jeep?” As he was posing, the Jeep’s owner appeared and introduced himself.
“I’ve just moved to Portland from California,” the man said.
“Thanks for letting us take a picture with your Jeep,” Gary said, and warmly shook his hand. “Welcome to Portland!” Then Gary gave the man a free copy of Street Roots. “You’re gonna really like it here!”
Say hello to Gary if you are in the neighborhood. He sells Street Roots at World Foods at Northwest Eighth Avenue and Everett Street.