The Homeless
When someone brings up this topic (the homeless) - my first thought about the homeless I think of them with disdain. There! - I said it! - not politically correct by any means, but that is my immediate reaction to that word “homeless” or homelessness.”“Bum” or “hobo” were the more oft-used words to describe people without a permanent address just a few decades ago here in the US. Funny thing is, when I hear bum or hobo, it does not conjure up the same imagery in my mind of a disheveled looking able-bodied man who is walking the streets panhandling. I tend to think of panhandlers just asking for money to support their own substance abuse, because in times past after dealing with them often, I had offered them food as they would beg for money, and they often would turn me down. I have encountered homelessness in a personal way of being accosted on the street in a number of large US cities such as DC, Dallas, San Francisco and Chicago.
I was hardened to dealing with the homeless in my early 20s while in college. I had lived in Europe and dealt with many persistent panhandlers in major cities there particularly Vienna and St. Petersburg. In Vienna, in the subway one small homeless woman with missing teeth kept yelling at me after I had refused to give her any Schilling at all. She followed me for about 2 blocks continuing to yell in Viennese dialect. It was a very screechy tone of voice and bothersome to say the least. Sometime later, I was staying with a family in Leningrad (St. Petersburg) and there were gypsies and homeless people living in the subways in the winter time. At one point, again at a subway, a gang of gypsy kids (some with physical disabilities) attacked me and knocked me down; they then quickly fleeced my pockets of my winter coat. Luckily, I was carrying a money belt underneath my sweaters. It did not take me long to learn to avoid gangs of gypsy kids. Sometimes I would see them beg somewhere for the day and then hop into a nice car at the end of the day and drive off. Seeing all this on another contintent added to my own growing cynicism of panhandlers, who we often equate to being homeless. Of course, we often do not know which ones are truely homeless and which ones are with homes, but supporting their own substance abuse.
Then some years later, I lived and worked in downtown Atlanta. After sometime, I saw some of the same homeless men again and again. One of them was named “Willy” – a black man probably in his late 40s walked with a terrible limp. I was told by another resident who lived there that Willy was hit by car, hence his limp. When my husband and I lived in a loft on Mitchell Street, the tenants would pay Willy with beer to help them complete small chores, such as moving furniture or taking out the garbage. Next door to where we rented a loft was a flop house basically, where homeless men rented rooms. It was an old dilapidated hotel. Now that same former hotel in Downtown Atlanta is boarded up and ivy covers many of the windows and the backside of the building. In fact, in front of this hotel, a scene from a TV movie called Mama Flora’s Family was filmed in 1998. (A few years later when I acquired a TV and DVD player, I bought this movie to see it) – I do recommend watching it.
Nowadays, I work in downtown Atlanta. I encounter panhandlers almost daily. I try never to make eye contact. I do not speak to them most of the time. Several months back, a dissheveled panhandler with a bicycle asked me for money: as usual I walked right past him not acknowledging him. The jerk off then yelled out something about my personal appearance (I shan’t repeat it here as it was a very ugly comment) – I then went ballistic, and I yelled at him with great fiery. He quickly rode off on his bike. I began to think I was the madwoman. He made me so angry! – I yelled so hard, my voice quickly hurt. For those who deal with me in person, I tend to talk quietly for the most part.
The reason I bring this up is I have helped those in need indirectly and directly, but not by handing them any money. When I am able, I have sent donations to the Open Door Community which is on Ponce De Leon in Atlanta. The Open Door Community is a shelter for homeless men. I applaud that some out there commit their time and resources to help the homeless. Many moons ago, I donated my time to help them out one weekend. Additionally, when I was in high school, I helped out in another homeless men’s shelter. It was a very sobering experience: you smell foul body odor, urine, and sometimes the men there are not very polite to visitors. It is one activity that I do not want to do again. However, I do believe in donating such shelters money and/or goods they may be able to use to help one person at a time. I have been told that men behave better at their shelters than do women at shelters for women and children. Those who run these places say women fight more. That could be the case if the mothers are with their children and there is the added pressure of trying to fend for their young ones. May God bless those who help the downtrodden; I do sincerely mean that.
If our country (US) ever had a structural breakdown on a very large scale, due to war, terrorism, weather, or economic collapse (similar to what happened in the aftermath of Katrina) and many of us were thrown into a state of homelessness, many of us would behave so savagely because the vast majority of us have become so removed from hard times and severe difficulty of just trying to survive. I do think the group of people who could withstand such chaos, in most cases, the most successfully would be the first generation immigrants from Latin America. Many of the Latino immigrants have been through the hard times that we Americans cannot imagine. It is something that is very sobering but most likely the truth in my own opinion. Most of us in this country with this high standard of living compared to the rest of the world are not used to self-sufficiency and this may be our ultimate downfall.
I feel very thankful that I have never been homeless. I have encountered a lot of personal economic difficulty many times in the past that would be considered mild to most who have been homeless. I have dealt with joblessness, unsecured debt that has exceeded my take home pay in one year, but one thing that has always been there for me is a roof over my head and a warm place to sleep. My family and I are very blessed.
1 Comments:
I rather liked what one street guy in Atlanta called himself, when he hit me up for money: an "urban nomad".
Years ago, I used to carry my camera with me downtown. Whenever I was asked for money, I'd give them a dollar, on condition that they'd let me snap their picture. Most declined, but a surprising number of 'em agreed.
Post a Comment
<< Home