The Abyss Always Has Room For A Few More

Down on his luck

Back in 1902, Jack London, celebrated author and activist, packed up his bags and moved to the East End of London, England, which at the time was a notorious slum (the East End of London was still a pretty dumpy place when I paid a visit in '97, but from what I read, the 2012 Olympics brought a ton of urban renewal to the area).

Mr. London took such action for the explicit purpose of gathering material for an expose on the dreadful conditions that London's poor endured. He slept rough on the streets and in workhouses, alongside the hundreds of thousands of the very least fortunate of the least fortunate.

He wrote a book, The People of The Abyss, which was released to wide acclaim in 1903. The book was similar too and most probably inspired by Dutch Immigrant Jacob Riis' book about New York's slums, How The Other Half Lives, published in 1890.

Over 100 years ago, intelligent, earnest, well-intentioned people were making serious efforts to lesson the suffering of the homeless, or rather houseless as a large number of these men (primarily men - about 80% in the U.S., 85% in Europe) prefer to be called.

And yet the ranks of the unsheltered homeless continue to swell, despite the efforts of an army of the altruistic.

Most people assume that the vast majority of the homeless are alcohol and/or drug addicted, which, from my experience, is decidedly true. I'm not just surprised when I meet a homeless person who does not have an alcohol or drug problem, I am genuinely shocked.

In over 20 years of doing what little I can, whether it's been via the Brother Francis shelter or other such organizations, I think I have met exactly two people who were homeless and not addicted to something. Both of those men had lost jobs, then homes, then found themselves out on the streets. Both of those guys also got back on their feet with the assistance of a private organization. 

No country that I have visited has been without a homeless population. There are people living rough everywhere. 

In the most advanced social democracies, in countries such as Norway and Sweden that boast relatively small, homogeneous populations and a tight control over immigration, as well as social safety nets that give "mothering" a whole new meaning, there are homeless.

Why? Simply put, because there are, have always been, and always will be, people who cannot take care of themselves. It's an ugly reality, but it is the reality.

In the course of my work with a few different agencies that try to alleviate the suffering of the homeless, I have met a number of eager, fresh-faced young kids, usually in their first or second years of college, who genuinely believe they can not only save people from themselves, they can indeed change the world.

Each and every single one of these kids spends one, maybe two days working the kitchen, and then usually disappear. A few have worked the outreach, which is commendable, because that is one thankless job, let me tell you. 

If you are feeling like you might want to volunteer at a shelter, I can tell you it is incredibly rewarding, but it is also incredibly...jading. You are not going to see many examples of the best humanity has on offer. You will be beset by constant requests for money (never give any one a dime - not one dime) and you'll probably have a few items stolen - coats, wallets, purses, etc.

If you are wondering how volunteering at a shelter can be rewarding after that last paragraph, I'll tell you what it is for me: I leave knowing that I am one lucky dude.

It is easy to get indignant and self-righteous when you see a homeless person and tell yourself they only have themselves to blame for their situations, but that's only half of it.

The other half is pure, blind luck. Chances are good that the average chronically homeless person wasn't blessed with two loving parents who encouraged them to excel, stay in school, learn a trade, indulge in moderation, practice self-control, etc.

Some of you who know the circumstances of my youth might now be saying "Whoa, you did not have any of that pure, blind luck. WTF?"

Which is all the more reason I consider myself the luckiest man on the planet.

Sure, I was one of six kids raised by a single-parent, but that single parent, my Mom, was pretty damn good at instilling a work ethic, and she made damn sure we all graduated, at least from high school. 

It's more likely that a chronically homeless person was abused, either physically or emotionally, and turned to drugs and/or alcohol for relief. Chances are a chronically homeless person was never shown how to work for a living, how to care for themselves, how to make it on their own, and thus simply does not know how.

Hell, growing up in San Diego, It was pretty easy to get a glimpse of how lucky I was just by spending a day in Tijuana. Tijuana is not exactly the garden spot of Mexico now, it was close to abject squalor back then. 

RT used to go into Tijuana and volunteer with building one room shelters for whole families over there - a one room shelter, with no running water or electricity, for a whole family.

Yep, we are some lucky mofo's. Me and everyone that has a computer, access to the internet, and can read.

Those of us living in homes we own or rent, that have jobs that allow us to pay our bills, that are not crippled by dependency on chemicals...we are the lucky, whether we recognize it or not.  

I know for a fact I'm the luckiest guy most people have ever met, and I'm reminded of that fact almost every day. 

And everyday I try not to screw it up.