This week my wife saw a good deal on socks and bought two dozen pairs for distribution to the homeless guests of the Day Center. Toiletries are kept on hand for people who come in for showers, and most of the time, we have plenty of soap, shampoo and toothpaste for them to take away. Other items such as combs, toothbrushes, razors and throat lozenges are available, depending on donations.
The supply of socks is inconsistent, but the demand is steady, especially this time of year. Guests can request one pair a month. Some never ask, while others would take a new pair each week if they could get them. They can wash their socks here, of course, but now they're sleeping with their boots on, and there must be a point when soap and water can't reclaim a cheap sock.
On my ride to town, I sometimes take a bike path under a bridge across the Colorado River. Nearby is a well-established river camp that's sheltered from view and traffic, but this winter someone has camped under the bridge.
Some boxes have been set up at one end to provide a windbreak. The ground is cushioned somewhat by multiple sleeping bags and assorted bedding.
Today, I decided to take a closer look, since I spotted a green plaid sleeping bag like the one I'd just put in the Day Center drier last week. The bottom of the short hill is reinforced with large boulders, creating an irregular climb that's treacherous enough sober and in daylight. I almost fell twice.
The site was kept relatively clean, and I was surprised to discover the main litter was not liquor bottles or food packaging. Among the rocks were about 15 discarded socks — colored, white, rolled, twisted, straight. [Click on the image below. I count seven.]
The sight brought back to me a conversation I'd just had with the Day Center's director about a homeless man who'd choked to death on a hot dog. When she saw his body, she couldn't help but notice his feet. Oh, Steve, she thought, all those socks we gave you, and you had to die in dirty socks.
I suppose a moralist would tell us that free socks create dependence and that people don't value what they haven't earned. I wouldn't totally disagree. But wet socks don't keep feet warm at night, and specific pieces of clothing have little value to someone who lacks a place to keep things they're not wearing.
I'd tell the moralist, disposable men wear disposable socks.
