My Soap Box About San Fran

Chris and I recently took the kids on a vacation to California, and I feel as if my heart is bursting with things to share…

my new journal...

We went to San Francisco, a city much more beautiful than I was expecting; then we went to Sequoia National park and Kings Canyon before returning to San Francisco to fly back home.  I hope to share with you a few of my experiences and observations; positive, negative, and introspective.

You may know that I am meticulous at keeping a journal, but you may be unaware that certain events have caused me to be reticent to write as I have become accustomed to—on my computer.  Vacations give me the opportunity to jump-start the writing process because I refuse to take my computer with me and instead carry an old-fashioned journal.  This time, knowing I’ve had “writer’s block”, I junked my previous paper journal for a new one---

Seems appropriate for me, eh?

Yet our vacation was so full that I had little time to journal and instead wrote lists of items of “things to process later”…

I thought I might process them with you.

#1.  San Francisco.

 I noticed many homeless people, but they were quite different from the homeless I encountered while living in Chicago.  They were not IN-YOUR-FACE begging for money or anything of the sort.  They were just “there”.  Much like the homeless were in the Philippines; it was an accepted way of life.  During a city tour, our guide told us that many of the homeless had been “shipped” there from Phoenix as they emptied out their mental institutions…they were handed a one-way ticket to San Fran…due to the excellent care and laws they have in the city towards the homeless, apparently some cities “send” their mentally ill and destitute to San Fran to make their cities look cleaner…so I checked and found many articles like this:  (http://www.seattletimes.com/nation-world/sf-sues-nevada-for-giving-mental-patients-one-way-bus-tickets/)

              

The guide on our tour said most of the homeless had little interest in being placed in institutions or homeless shelters; they liked their “freedom”.  I immediately recalled the book by Jeanette Walls entitled The Glass Castle where her mentally ill parents also chose the same lifestyle in New York  http://www.amazon.com/The-Glass-Castle-A-Memoir/dp/074324754X.  It's an interesting side-note that MENTALLY ILL PEOPLE CAN'T MAKE WISE DECISIONS ABOUT THEIR LIVES.  HEY, I SHOULD KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No, you can't force an adult to swallow their meds and think clearly.  But come on, many of these people need serious help and saying that they "enjoy" their "freedom" is just about the world's biggest cop-out EVER.

              

It IS nice to see a city where there is a great deal of compassion and tolerance for the homeless.  Chicago was a horrible city as far as dealing with the homeless, and I often became nauseous living there, wanting to help those on the streets, but being told over and over again that I was “enabling drunks” and that I should not even look at them.

               

Somewhere along the way I decided to stop thinking about homeless people as being “them”.  I decided to look them in the eye.  I refused to listen to the majority and chose my own way.  I am so glad I did.

fyi, you still are my neighbor.

                

Because I met that young woman with the dog in the grocery store, that one time. http://fragileclayjars.blogspot.com/2012_03_01_archive.html

                

And because last week, I watched a couple (a married couple?) sit together at Fisherman’s Wharf.  

They looked like they were American Indians; they were so dark and red, except that when they sat and crossed their legs, you could see the gaps at their pants where the white showed through.  We were on a tour…having been given a boxed lunch from a place called “Boudin” (Chris said it was on the Food Network or something…) and were relaxing in the shade while listening to some street musician playing music while some other man (mentally ill? Most likely…) swayed with some interpretive dance a few yards away and people lined up along the pier for some tour…

                

While we were eating, the man approached another family from our tour.  I have no idea what he said to them, but he seemed gregarious enough, but the woman remained seated in the shade.  Later, Chris told me that he was the "scout"; the one who begged, while the woman was the one who guarded their meager belongings.

                

Our sandwiches were enormous and they included a bag of chips.  I ate the meat and cheese from my sandwich, throwing away most of the bread, and on an impulse held the chips back.  As we passed the woman, I held them out and asked if she would like them.

                

The only comparable thing I can say is…it was like someone walking past me and saying, “Hey, I’ve got this Crème Brulee and I don’t really want to eat it…” 

               

 She was so happy.  And I had been so nervous.  I mean, how do you approach someone with food without appearing pretentious?  I had no idea what the culture was actually like…after all, the driver said that “these people” liked their freedom.

                

But did they like Doritos?

                

Yes, the answer was yes.

                

Then my family fell in behind me, scavenging in their lunch boxes for all the “safe” food they hadn’t eaten (i/e food that was in a sealed bag) and they left it with the dumbfounded woman.

                

And I realized several things:

1.   San Francisco isn’t all that different from Chicago, for all their lofty ideals.  Because if I can shock the socks off a woman with a bag of Doritos, nobody is REALLY caring for the homeless here.

2.   I should really quit caring about what people think about me, and just do what I feel compelled to do, because being embarrassed is a really lousy excuse for doing nothing.

3.  I am glad there is a city with a mild temperature where there are people who have a tolerance for the mentally ill and the homeless.  I wish my city was more like that.  I wish I was more like that.  I wish that city was more like the way they think they are.  At least nobody is likely to lose their fingers or toes to frostbite there.

4.   If I could do it over again, I would be more aware and I would share a lunch and give away a wholesome sandwich along with the Doritos.  I had more than enough to share; I had just been conditioned to only give away food that was factory sealed.

Part of me feels so completely shamed.  Why am I not ALWAYS prepared to share with others?  It reminds me of the time, many years ago, when the children and I passed homeless people nearly every day on my way to work (and their way to an amazing after-school program)...and it broke my heart, so we bought nutritious snacks and juices and the kids wrote Bible verses and painstakingly taped them to the bottles and snacks...and the homeless people disappeared overnight.  We looked EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. to find a person to give our gifts to, and they were all just...gone.  I can't explain it.  The snacks eventually hit their expiration date, and the juices too...

Now our family serves once a month at a food kitchen in our town.  We are "waiters", so to speak.  It's an amazing place, where people are treated with dignity.  It is run like a restaurant, so I wait tables, serve drinks, take orders, and bring plates of food to the people of MY community.  They don't stand in lines.  They rest, for once.  My daughter usually brings a tray of desserts around, where the patrons choose something to treat themselves.  Birthdays are celebrated with cakes.  Some toothless guy I can barely understand sits next to the trash can and berates me for my poor ability to scrape the plates clean...he says I'm getting better.  I have to laugh.

A young woman with beautiful red hair comes in most weeks, all alone, after the regulars have come and gone, and eats a meal.  We keep inviting her to church.  Perhaps one day she will come.

A group of elderly couples show up sometimes.  The wife of one said she was "just so hungry" and I wonder what their story is...why they have been reduced to coming to get a free meal.  Just a few turns for the worst, and that could be me.  She has such a spark, and I find myself loving her.

I actually find myself hoping to see these people the following month, when my church returns for their time-slot.  But then I realize that these people DON'T hope to return.  They have a love-hate relationship with the soup kitchen.  They love the people who run it; the people who have worked so hard to create a respect-oriented environment.  But they don't want to NEED it.  

 Most homeless or destitute people are NOT drug addicts.  Most people on welfare are NOT druggies either.  You spend time with them and you know.  These are people with lives, with stories.  They have experienced more life than most of us will ever know, or WANT to know.  They deserve compassion and respect.

Okay, I'm done.