An editorial on the state of the state by Jonas Edwin Sills
Whilst driving on Ocean Avenue in my beloved hometown of Long Beach, California, I was struck by an image that can only be accurately shown by seeing the photo below. Go ahead and look now if you’d like, or wait for it for a interesting surprise.
I am no expert on the politics of “homelessness,” but I do know, for starters, that I never liked the word itself as a description of a group. Though not one for overly politically correct language, somehow the word lumps together an image and attitude of complete lack and is too close to words like helpless and hopeless. The emergence of the words “unsheltered” or “unhoused” seems to marginalize less and dehumanize less.
Living for several years in downtown Long Beach right in the thick of things in an urban condo. became distinctly aware of the humanity of my neighbors, because like it or not, the unhoused were my friendly neighbors. An area that was marketed, sold, and this time after many attempts truly becoming the “place to be for everyone,” was up for.another rude awakening. This time in the hopeful name of “progress.”
There was a little park area and several other open areas around downtown that made a community for the unhoused. They could take care of each other, and not only that, when there was help available, those called to help could know where to go, and it felt relatively safe. I would hand out socks, clothes, leftover food, and whatever I could to help. I made it a habit of always asking their names, and sometimes that little act would bring tears to the other person’s eyes.
A particularly memorable individual named Jeff was on a stroll around town and politely asked, “Can you spare a penny?” with a strong British accent. He laughed and corrected himself, saying, “Actually, can you just buy me a hot dog and coke?” I laughed along with him and led him, in his wheelchair, to the 7/11 where I gave him a hot dog, chips, and more. I asked if he needed any clothes, and he said, “I’m okay, but I’ve got a few friends that could really use some.” He then politely waited for me to get whatever I could give. He didn’t just take the clothes himself to give out but walked me around to all the places his friends were to give each something, with an ending stop in the park. This was Jeffrey’s community, and he knew each member’s territory.
I made it a habit from that day on to buy fifty outfits at Goodwill whenever they had their $2 sale. This was honestly my first experience one-on-one with giving directly to someone in that kind of need. I never saw Jeffrey again and never got to ask him about his story, his accent, or what brought him there that day.
Around that same time, I also owned a store under my home right in that area. Feeling more comfortable, I would chat with my neighbors around, and I met a guy named Paul. We soon had an arrangement: he could stay there, no questions asked, in front of my shop, and I just asked that he keep a lookout for those that might try to vandalize or do anything else to my property. He knew that sleeping there during the day wouldn’t be good for business and was always gone first thing in the morning. I felt safer with him there. Paul, after all, was unhoused but was not a thief. It took quite a while before he would accept his morning breakfast combo of a hot dog, chips, and a coke for free. In the two years he was there, there was not a single act of vandalism.
One day, he was gone, and a walk just those few blocks away confirmed a shift. Barriers were placed, and the areas that allowed for some sort of community were gone.
Months later, we had shiny new fancy buildings, government ones in fact, a courthouse, mayor’s offices, and a wonderful new library. Progress for a beautiful new downtown. Paul and others like him were dispersed, and all these beautiful new places made the area… worse!
Much worse for the residents, for the businesses, for the tourism, and for the unhoused. Build our big beautiful buildings, and things will work out. There seemed to be no plan at all for these people, and they just dispersed into small groups all over downtown. These groups were much more wary of residents and increasingly more agitated and violent. They were ripped away from the only sense of community they had and a centrality that allowed for help for those that would accept it, to an every-person-for-themselves reality.
Do I have answers to this pressing issue in California? Dunno. Do I think that it started with the closing of mental institutions that could be available to a good majority of these humans? Maybe Do I do anything much about it? No. But this striking image makes me think of the irony. Here they spent who knows how much to place a beautiful image of capitalism right at the doorsteps of their government buildings, emblazoned with the image of the president who is known more than any other for freedom and equality.
“Can you spare a penny?” Apparently not. Was there any thought of these current ancestors and how to help their situations? I do not know. All I know is that I ironically call whoever is sleeping in that tent “Paul.” Keep watch over the pristine government offices and make sure they are reminded by you each day of the REAL progress that needs to be done.
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NOTE: This original article by Jonas Edwin Sills reflects the thoughts and opinions of the author. This content may not reflect any opinion or policy of this website. This version of article is Copr. © 2024 by Jonas Edwin Sills and CaliforniaNewswire.com – all rights reserved. Image provided by the author.
