Within a week of hearing on the radio that over 60,000 Americans lost their jobs in one day, I rolled out of bed at 5 in the morning to help with Everyone Counts, an effort organized by the city’s Multi-Service Center that takes place every two years to count the number of homeless people in Long Beach. Being aware of the looming threat of massive unemployment made facing the needs of homeless people seem less like charity and more like necessity to me. I brought my camera with me, but the volunteer coordinator advised me that the people we’d be talking to would probably not want to be photographed. So I’ve included a photo by Marlith available from the Community Commons at Flickr.
I was surprised to be sent back to my own neighborhood, Alamitos Heights, to look for people living on the streets, in alleys, and around parks. I was even more surprised that here among the tidy upper middle class homes, my counting partners (Austin, 25, and Milt, 69) and I met 15 homeless men and women (no children, I’m happy to say). Many found shelter around Recreation Park and behind the shops on Anaheim and Seventh. We only encountered one person near houses.
Many of my assumptions about homelessness were overturned during my three hours of canvassing the neighborhood. First, most of the people we talked to wore clean and fairly new clothes, although they did all have bundles or bags or even carts. Two people had cars packed full of their belongings. Second and maybe most surprisingly, all the people we spoke to were in good health, mentally and physically. Of the 12 men we talked to, 10 were veterans.
With one exception, the homeless people were all happy to talk to us with no sign of resentment or anger. Each person accepted the packaged goods we had to give out politely and gratefully, but none wanted more than a few items. One man said he couldn’t carry very much. Another one said he couldn’t eat chewy food because of his teeth. When we’d offer more, they’d always say, “Save that for someone who needs it more.”
Everywhere, there seemed to be sympathy for others’ misfortunes. People banded together for safety or companionship. One woman, Veronica, had started a blog, Help I’m Homeless, and told us she hoped to expand it to a website providing information about services available to homeless people throughout the country. “I remember when I was first on my own, I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I just want to do something to help.”
These people were healthy, articulate, and socially aware. Most of them had served their country in the armed forces. Why were they on the streets? One man had lost his job as a certified welder because of an injury. Another man, in his 70s, had moved and could not get his social security checks forwarded to a family member who had taken him in. One woman had her salary cut and couldn’t pay her rent any more. The stark reality is that most of us in America are only a paycheck or two away the lives these people struggle to get back on track.
So, I came away from the experience humbled by these people’s spirit and generosity. I will look for ways to help the homeless as described in C. Jeanne Heida’s thoughtful article. I’ll look for more opportunities to help at VolunteerMatch. And I’ll be there for Everyone Counts in 2011.
I was surprised to be sent back to my own neighborhood, Alamitos Heights, to look for people living on the streets, in alleys, and around parks. I was even more surprised that here among the tidy upper middle class homes, my counting partners (Austin, 25, and Milt, 69) and I met 15 homeless men and women (no children, I’m happy to say). Many found shelter around Recreation Park and behind the shops on Anaheim and Seventh. We only encountered one person near houses.
Many of my assumptions about homelessness were overturned during my three hours of canvassing the neighborhood. First, most of the people we talked to wore clean and fairly new clothes, although they did all have bundles or bags or even carts. Two people had cars packed full of their belongings. Second and maybe most surprisingly, all the people we spoke to were in good health, mentally and physically. Of the 12 men we talked to, 10 were veterans.
With one exception, the homeless people were all happy to talk to us with no sign of resentment or anger. Each person accepted the packaged goods we had to give out politely and gratefully, but none wanted more than a few items. One man said he couldn’t carry very much. Another one said he couldn’t eat chewy food because of his teeth. When we’d offer more, they’d always say, “Save that for someone who needs it more.”
Everywhere, there seemed to be sympathy for others’ misfortunes. People banded together for safety or companionship. One woman, Veronica, had started a blog, Help I’m Homeless, and told us she hoped to expand it to a website providing information about services available to homeless people throughout the country. “I remember when I was first on my own, I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I just want to do something to help.”
These people were healthy, articulate, and socially aware. Most of them had served their country in the armed forces. Why were they on the streets? One man had lost his job as a certified welder because of an injury. Another man, in his 70s, had moved and could not get his social security checks forwarded to a family member who had taken him in. One woman had her salary cut and couldn’t pay her rent any more. The stark reality is that most of us in America are only a paycheck or two away the lives these people struggle to get back on track.
So, I came away from the experience humbled by these people’s spirit and generosity. I will look for ways to help the homeless as described in C. Jeanne Heida’s thoughtful article. I’ll look for more opportunities to help at VolunteerMatch. And I’ll be there for Everyone Counts in 2011.
