I wonder why...

It has been a couple weeks since my last post. I have gone to the shelter every week with my socks to hand out...there is so much pain there...

I went on a Monday one week and met an entirely different group of people. One gal, about my age, crawled out of a dirty broken down van. She is one of the 'rich homeless' that has a running vehicle to live in. She told me her name was Gypsy Rose, and she was once a 'dancer in New York City'. This woman was rough. Her hair was matted, her clothes wrinkled, her body vi sable with dirt. She asked me to comb her hair for her so I did. During that fifteen minutes she told me she had been a jockey in England for year....now I was beginning to wonder if she was part of the mentally ill who are homeless or a woman with a wonderful past of adventures. If she were the later...why was she homeless? What had happened to her. We hugged as we parted way; I may never know the truth of her situation. I wonder why.

The Monday visit also brought a little old man, about 4 foot tall, with a walker. I asked him if he is "inside or outside", which is the polite term for finding out how down and out a person is. He is outside. I gave him a pair of socks and helped him get his zipper open to put them in his bag. He was about 80 pounds of hunched over arthritic bones so I asked if he needed help getting upstairs to the lunch about to be served. He thanked me with the reply "I am used to this, I will be fine". How can be 'okay' when he needed help with a zipper on his bag...I wonder why.

Going upstairs to the area they meet for lunch I was able to say hello to some regulars I had seen before. There were several families with small children. On the side tables were piles of clothing and shoes for the 'guests' to go though and take what they needed. The irony of the shoes were high heels...what are people thinking these homeless will do with high heeled shoes? The homeless walk all day to avoid a loitering charge..I wonder way.

I brought my husband along for one of my visits. (My hubs is the most wonderful, kind man in the world, with a heart of gold.) He was mortified to be there, he would not hand out the socks. He would not go in the building. He would not talk with the people. He was the most uncomfortable I have ever seen him. What makes it so difficult for good people to ignore the homeless. I wonder why.

I had not been able to write my feelings about the last two weeks until a dear school friend (we have know each other 50 years) sent me a 'you-tube' to watch today.
It answers all my 'I wonder why' questions...Here is the link to my enlightenment

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YU0aNAHXP0&feature=email

Abandoned cars, dogs and people.

I go each Wed to the local "soup line" to hand out socks and whatever else I can afford to give. Sometimes it is a zip lock bag of goodies and sometimes it is just batteries. It takes me a couple days to digest what I have seen, heard, and smelled during this adventure...

I met Jim this trip. He proudly told me of the "tent city" he founded in the hills outside our town. He told of the police raids that allow them to grab what they can and then how the police slice the tents and cart them off. He got wind of a coming police raid and how his "camp" was in scurry mode after eating their one meal a day at the Salvation Army. There are breakfasts and dinners at a different location, but one meal today will have to do as they need to move before the 'raid'.

It was the first of the month and Jim spit sour liquor breath my direction as he lisps though missing teeth. He was hard to understand and to hear. His eyes are glassy. He explains that 'he is a man' and starts crying. I give him a hug. After a time he tells me about the impending raid and how 'normal people' (his words) do not understand that the homeless do NOT want to be homeless...they have pain that is covered by the booze and drugs that leads to illegal activity that they then hide from the law. The thinking is so confused that being on the run sounds better than a bed and meals in jail.

He goes on to ask me. "What happens to abandoned cars?" They are impounded I respond. "What happens to abandoned dogs?" he asks patiently... Well, I guess they are picked up and housed by the human society until they find a new home. Tears fill his eyes again. "What happens to homeless people?" I am silent. He looks down at this worn boots for a long time. I wait for his answer and pray that I can find the words to comfort this man. He looks up slowly, right into my eyes...and says "They yell at us, wake us up when we try to sleep in a dry doorway, close shelters for lack of funding, arrest us, give us just enough money for booze or drugs but not enough for housing." I am still silent. "They will not rent to us, they will not give us work, the treatment centers are full, they run us off if we pan handle..." He starts crying again. "The worst thing is that they ignore us...they have more respect for abandoned cars and dogs...." He walked away.