Queen T treated me to a pedicure this morning. She left earlier than I, because she wanted her nails done, too. I walked the two tenths of a mile uphill to the salon, marveling at my ability to do so with every step. I was happy before I walked upstairs to the spa, chose my color, and took a seat in the comfy chair next to her.
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| Cocoon Urban Day Spa |
New toenail polish and new flip flops and steep stairs were a challenge, but I survived until I reached the sofa outside the restaurant on the first floor. I reorganized my phone and wallet around my person, draped my coat over my shoulders, and began to walk home.
Home. Everyone should have access to a home. No one should have to sleep on the street, wrapped in layers of blankets, their possessions huddled beside them. Vulnerable humans exposed, strays, broken people in a broken system. There are not enough shelter beds for those who want them.... and many do not want them at all.
Still, signs like this
I didn't take pictures because it seemed unnecessarily cruel to objectify them for my own purposes, but trust me, there were more than a few sleeping in the sunshine, on the pavement, against the buildings, behind the benches, around the sculptures.
It's a beautiful city with a terrible problem. I fretted for two blocks then decided to laugh at the most ridiculous structure I've ever seen.
It put me in the right frame of mind to go back to the happy young family. I had only a few regrets about not caring more, about not doing more, about reveling in my joy while others sleep on the street.
If the whole city can't solve the problem, I can't take it on my shoulders.
On the other hand, If not me, who? If not now, when.
It's a quandary, indeed.
Since most of us do not know the people on the street, and generally don't have to deal with the thefts that happen near to these camps (my brother does), we have to go by what we read. A homeless woman in Portland was interviewed, with photos, and said she felt good about her situation. She got three meals a day, at no cost. She could go back to her tent and spend the day high on drugs (of course, Oregon made that legal)-- how she pays for those drugs might be asked, but doubt we'd get answers. I think the only real answer is offering training but how many will take it? How many want real jobs? Having two grown grandsons, different parents, where they have no interest in working, I don't think this is a simple problem and guilt won't fix it. Programs might but will they without some pressure brought to bear--- which is not popular at all in our time-- from parents or government. As a grandparent, I can only look on as I do with what has happened to a much beloved city-- Portland and seeing what has happened to it with no real consequences, except to working folksl
ReplyDeleteI understand that quandary all too well. Driving through Seattle I am repulsed by the garbage and filth strewn around the encampments along the freeway, and at the same time I shudder to think that people are living that way. Compassion and repulsion are an unsettling mix.
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