Everybody thinks I'm doing meth, she said—but I'm not.
I put that one down as a fib, given the evidence—the mouth contortions, the chickenpox face, the rapt but ineffectual focus on dressing the sores on her hands.
A shoplifting charge had put her in jail for a few months, enough to come out clean and healthy, but now she suffers from a skin infection and a bad choice of self-medications.
It's routine for people on the sidelines to talk about "bad choices," but that implies good ones are readily available.
Last week, a local newspaper columnist wrote a lazy opinion piece stating that our local homeless shelter is having financial difficulties because it is serving too many people who don't belong here.
Anyone with eyes knows the number of transients has shot up like a human cannonball. Most of them, by definition, don’t have to be here. If one has no residence or job in an area and its [sic] 5 degrees outside — the logical solution is travel, unless free services outweigh the lure of the road.
One remedy, then, might be a shiny new suitcase, but there will remain a minority, forced by circumstances to remain. This is the number to consider for assistance.
This is a simplistic generalization by clever fellow untrammeled by facts. The type who does back-of-the-envelope math on a few stray figures and mistakes them for reality.
I wonder what he thinks those circumstances are that force people to remain?
According to recent surveys of the local homeless population:
- 28% are under 18
- 42% report at least one disability
- 57% of these transients have lived in the county for three years or more
- Only 22% have been here less than a year.
Some were perhaps drawn by stories of a compassionate community handing out freebies. But others were returning home, seeking help from family members that didn't pan out, or sent here by other communities doing precisely what the columnist proposes doing to others.
***
If unemployment is your only issue, maybe pulling up stakes is the way to go.
But many homeless face multiple barriers. If you're a kid, fresh out of jail and on probation, have chronic health problems and lack transportation or employment, maybe not it's a good idea to leave town and see if you can find a job where you don't have friends or any support structure. Maybe your mail will catch up to you, along with your disability benefits. Maybe you'll quickly hook up with a new clinic or physician and the local shelter won't also be full and straining to keep its doors open.
Yeah, maybe. And maybe a girl's meth problem will clear up with a shiny new suitcase.
***
A regular who recently spent 45 days in the mental health clinic came out last month with a $65,000 bill. His Medicaid paperwork was sent to General Delivery at the post office instead of to the shelter or his mail drop at the Day Center. By the time he discovered where the mail had been sent, he was in danger of being cut off from his coverage.
This snafu happened in the town where he's lived for years. I'm sure he'd do better in LA.
Doctors told another ill guest that she needed three days of bed rest. (There are limited provisions at the shelter for patients discharged from health care facilities to stay during the day, but good luck getting inside if you weren't admitted to the hospital for your ailment.)
Bed rest requires a bed you can access. Rest of any kind is at a premium. I'm sure it'd be easier in a strange city.
***
But I see good things, too.
A woman came in today to pick up her mail. She's in a small apartment now, going to outpatient counseling four days a week. Her parents came to town to visit her for five days last month—the first time she'd seen them in eight years. Her mother, who had refused to visit before, told her, "This is much better than I expected."
When she picked up her mail, she gave a new first name. I'm not using that name any more, she said I'm leaving the old life behind.
Another woman who has been a fixture in the homeless community thanks to a head injury that left her vulnerable and hearing voices got into an extended care home about two years ago and it changed her life. She's safe and well-cared for, and though she still talks to herself, she's more confident and social now. When she comes to the soup kitchen, it's to say hello to the friends who looked out for her back in the day.
This morning an older woman who lives in some new apartments built by Catholic Outreach drove over in her scooter with a bag of fruit and baked goods she bought on manager's special. She brings these items for "the kids" and takes hugs in exchange. A year or so ago, she was living in her car, which contained all her possessions. She totaled it in an accident and had to put her things in storage.
Now she lives a block from her kids and sleeps warm and safe.
But I'm sure, she'd have done fine with a bus ticket to Durango.
