Cleveland Commons offers home, hope to Bend man
- Homelessness: Real Stories, Real Solutions
- Jun 10
- 5 min read
Trevor Duncan thought his life was over after he was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease. Then, he learned that the symptoms were due to suffering a stroke. The effects could be reversed, but he'd need support to have a fighting chance.

By DAVID DUDLEY
Bend residents may recognize the man in a wheelchair flying a sign outside the Safeway on Franklin Avenue and Third Street. That's Trevor Duncan. He's there most days. Or, he used to be.
Up until a few months ago, the 37-year-old lived in the Franklin Avenue Shelter, run by Shepherd's House Ministries. While there, Duncan signed to get enough money for daily necessities like food.
"There are a lot of good, compassionate people in Bend," said Duncan. "There are also a lot of mean, nasty people riding around in big, shiny SUVs."
Instead of offering help, or simply going about their day, the latter hurled insults at Duncan, he said.
"I think often about a Bible verse," Duncan said. "'Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye, when you have a plank in your own eye?' I don't think people actually see me."
That's from Matthew, 7:3. Its message is often interpreted as "judge not lest ye be judged." Most people, said Duncan, are living a blissfully blind life, in which they don't have to face the daily struggles that come with disability.
"I pray for them," he said. "I pray they don't wind up like me. They wouldn't last a day in my shoes."
What the people who pass $10 and $20 dollar bills, and those who shout insults, don't know about Duncan, is that he may one day walk again. But in order to have a fighting chance, he needed to get off the streets.
In search of healing
Duncan wasn't always in a wheelchair. Born in Orlando, Florida, Duncan said that he was homeschooled through the Umbrella Academy. He graduated early, earning his high school diploma at age 16. But that didn't prepare him for the world, the harsh reality, that awaited him beyond the classroom.
After working a stint with his dad at a pool company in Florida, Duncan traveled around the country, living with various relatives. He eventually wound up working at a Waffle House in Tennessee. Then, his health took a turn for the worse.

"That's when scoliosis changed my life," Duncan said. "I couldn't walk. I couldn't even stand. I knew I had to apply for Social Security disability benefits in order to survive."
Duncan said that he applied for benefits and, to his surprise, was approved after just one visit to the doctor.
"All it took was one X-ray," Duncan said. "I was 22, 23 at the time. And to be able to pay rent, to eat, was a great weight lifted off of my shoulders."
Duncan was living in Salina, Ohio, when he and his girlfriend had a daughter, Julie.
"Her mom struggled with addiction," he said. "She eventually recovered, but not until after our daughter had entered the foster care system."
Duncan spent more than a year trying to reunify with his daughter, but it wasn't meant to be.
"It was Christmas, and I asked her what she wanted," Duncan said. "She said: 'I want to be adopted by the family I'm living with now.'
"That hurt," he continued, "But I stepped aside. I just want her to be safe and happy."
He left Ohio to be closer to family in Coos Bay, Oregon, but his health troubles weren't behind him.
Duncan suffered a stroke three years ago. Marked by symptoms like aphasia (trouble speaking), ataxia (loss of coordination), amnesia (memory loss), and a slew of other challenges, Duncan had his share of worries. But he didn't know he'd suffered a stroke. In fact, he thought his life was over.
"Doctors misdiagnosed it as Lou Gehrig's Disease, or ALS," Duncan said. "It was the scariest three years of my life. I thought I was going to die."
Then, an MRI revealed that he was not battling ALS.
"The doctor said I had a stroke in the brain stem," Duncan said. "And, with consistent physical therapy, I could reverse its effects."
God by my side
Today, Duncan laments the loss of his ability to walk. But he's not content to sit and let life pass him by.
"I watch people in public," said Duncan. "That's when it hits me hard: I can't do everyday tasks, like walking from one end of my apartment to the other, or getting up and sitting down in a quick and effortless manner, as other people do."

That decreased mobility presented challenges when he stayed at The Lighthouse Navigation Center, where he lived for 18 months, and again later, when he moved to the Franklin Avenue Shelter. While the latter offered more housing stability, he didn't have the ability to travel each day to see a physical therapist, to do the difficult exercises that would help him regain strength, function and coordination.
Duncan began reflecting on his need to heal, and a home that offered greater supports to make that possible. Then, he was offered an apartment in the newly-opened Cleveland Commons last February, which offers an array of services.
Before he could move in, he'd have to return to the streets. He'd have to fly his sign in front of Safeway to raise $200 for the security deposit.
"I raised the money by signing and saving," Duncan said. "I kept delivering money orders, until eventually I gave them enough to move into the apartment."

After living for years on the streets and in various shelters, Duncan is no longer homeless. He can see snow-capped mountaintops — Broken Top and Sisters — through his west-facing windows. He has a place to keep things that make him smile: A portrait of baby Yoda hangs on a wall beside a picture of Jesus. A reminder, Duncan said, that God is always by his side.
Now that he's got a home, and in a building that provides an array of onsite medical services, as well as case management, Duncan is poised to take a big step forward.
"I cried my eyes out when I first moved into my apartment," he said. "It felt like I'd won the lottery. I owe everybody at Shepherd's House. I wouldn't be here without them."
Homelessness: Real Stories, Real Solutions (realstoriesrealsolutions.org) is a journalism lab funded by Central Oregon Health Council under FORJournalism (forjournalism.org), an Oregon nonprofit dedicated to supporting journalism statewide. Sign up for weekly newsletters to receive updates.
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