By Molly Balison
It was around 10 a.m. in Boise when Chris Alvarez, better known as “Critter”, sat on the steps of an apartment complex. It wasn’t his apartment. The night before, he’d slept under the stairwell. As he bent down to tie his shoe, reality struck him. “This is my life at the moment. Homelessness is my life,” he thought. Acceptance mixed with confusion and anger swirled in his mind. He went from being a straight-A student who was always responsible and always had a job, cars, apartments, and friends. It all slipped away the further he fell into a drug addiction.
A curious voice interrupted his train of thought. “Hey. Do you need anything?”
Critter looked up and saw this guy wearing baggy skater clothes, a backwards hat, and compassionate eyes standing in front of him. Critter couldn’t think of how to respond. He knew he needed help, but he didn’t know what for. This stranger introduced himself as Nick and offered something Critter hadn’t expected: a shower, a meal, and a safe place to rest.
Nick’s audacious kindness amazed and even confused Critter, but he accepted the invitation. In Nick’s apartment, Critter noticed photos of Nick with big-name skaters hanging on the wall and realized that, of all people, the Nick Rogers, a professional skateboarder, welcomed him into his home at one of the lowest points in Critter’s life. Nick gave him clean, name-brand clothes, a backpack, and a hot meal.
“I felt like I was on a never-ending, soul-searching journey for two years, being homeless,” Critter said, “And Nick played a big part in that. In my recovery too,” he said. “It was an overwhelming sentiment of kindness. A solid representation of humanity that sticks in my mind when I’m going through s—.”
Helping people was ingrained in Nick from a young age. He remembered his dad inviting people who didn’t have a home into theirs for the holidays and sharing meals with those who were hungry. Nick never passed up the opportunity to extend a hand to someone in need wherever he went, including the skate park.
Nick claimed he spent around 10,000 hours at Rhodes Skate Park before 10th grade. He excelled in the competitive world of skateboarding, winning competitions and growing his network. But his success came with a cost. “I traded passion for glory,” he said. He realized the spark he once had for skateboarding became tied to the world of competition and winning.
His career came to a crashing halt when he fell in an elevator shaft and suffered a leg injury, preventing him from skating. After he recovered, he braved the skate park, but he couldn’t bring himself to get sucked into the competitive lifestyle again.
During this time, Critter and Nick lost touch for thirteen years. Nick found himself in a season of uncertainty and instability, so he sought resources at Interfaith Sanctuary. He got involved in Project Well-Being and Word on the Street to gain some structure in his life.
One unexpected day, Nick was hanging out in the Phoenix building, and Critter walked in.
Critter’s face lit up. “I never forget a face,” he said.
It was surreal for Critter, now a tattoo artist and director of the Art Collective at Interfaith. The man who once helped him when he was homeless was now seeking support in the very shelter where Critter worked.
The roles reversed, and they helped each other at their lowest. They are both continuing to rebuild while still impacting people’s lives.
Now, Nick dreams of giving back to the community by creating a skateboarding academy for kids and those with sensory processing challenges. Critter continues inspiring people to be creative while leading the Art Collective and tattooing for a living.
Though over a decade had passed, their journeys intersected. The human condition, interwoven with kindness, brought their resilient friendship full circle.