Home Less

It is 32˚ degrees outside. I have a heater two feet away from my frog-flannel-sheeted, duvet-covered bed, trying to make sense of this ridiculously stupid Match.com error I participated in, while outside, maybe 20-30 feet away in (I am assuming) the carport, there sits a human being.   Cold and coughing, he is undoubtedly shivering uncontrollably, and I am wishing I hadn’t given our extra blankets to the homeless camp two weeks ago, just so I would have had something for him here.

I surreptitiously attempted to find him this afternoon, to confirm my beliefs, but I saw nothing and I’m not foolish enough to go blazing onto someone else’s property to look for another trespasser.  I may be naive, but I’m not stupid.  Well, I’m usually not stupid.

It’s difficult to be sitting here in this semi-warm room (about 66˚ now) hearing his constant coughing as I wonder what his story is.  Why is he there?  What happened to put him there?  Drugs, alcohol and mental illness usually play a tremendous role in the lives of the homeless population, but some, like the father of someone I know, simply prefers to be homeless.  He says the streets are his home and he doesn’t want any other.  Ok, so there you have it.  But why?  What made this gentle man so fond of living without a roof over his head, to protect him from the rain, and walls, to shelter him from the wind?  What events in his life, which dominant forces drove this man down his Path?  What is his story? 

 I have always interested in people’s stories.  As a child, an adolescent, a 20, 30, 40 year old, it’s always been a wish of mine to approach a random stranger and say, “Tell me your story!  What was your greatest joy? What was your most heart-wrenching moment?” yet I’m not sure how kindly people would take to that, especially the homeless population.  It isn’t “safe” to tell a stranger those secrets which you, yourself, do not even dare think of.  What analgesic event took place and numbed the inner-fight of their Human Spirit? What diminutive words were said that erased the last vestiges of self-esteem?

There is rarely only one event in the lives of this self-discarded, feared, misunderstood population.  There is a circular causality in which many different variables play a hand in the outcome.  And, if there is no positive loop in the feedback system, signifying a need for change (i.e. taking that community college course to keep the job, go to that clinic to stay on the medication, asking for help to quit drinking), then the system remains in homeostasis, and the losses; of home, vehicle, job, support, simply continue.  Until all that is left is…nothing.  

It is difficult to climb out of that hole.  I was a fortunate one and can see how difficult that might be for a man in his 60s who has a serious addiction to alcohol or a long undiagnosed/untreated mental issue to even attempt a change.  We give up sometimes, because after countless vain attempts, we see little, if any progress. “Get a job!”  People say, but how?  Would you give a homeless man a job in your workplace?  How should he apply?  Just go into Wal-mart and sit at the computer?  Hmm?  Which “home” address would he put down?  As previously mentioned, it isn’t so easy, because along with those rudimentary things such as home address, another prominent need is the desire to participate.  

So, I’m sad. For him, for all of them.    I wish still I had those blankets.