Homeless people make me do things.

I just stepped into my apartment and burst into tears because I bought a homeless guy dinner at McDonalds. A few hours ago I had eight dollars and my mom heard the stress in my voice and padded my bank account a little. So when this guy, not quite a crazy person but already talking to himself, dressed in dirty, faded jeans and a dirty, faded sweater approached my car at chevron and asked for a quarter for food I had no change so I bought him dinner at McDonalds. If I told Chris he wouldn't understand. I'm sure a lot of people wouldn't. The only thing I could think to tell the guy when I gave him his meal was that I didn't know what kind of drink he liked so I got him coke, and then when he looked at me with blank eyes I just said everyone should be able to eat.

When Chris and I were out shooting pictures a few days ago for a project it had gotten dark early (darn time change) and we were driving around downtown like we do sometimes when we don't want to go home and be computer zombies. He said "I want to show you something" and drove toward the industrial part of town. We wound around side streets and down some alleys with broken bikes and chain link fences and ended up on the side of a large, clean looking factory. It looked harmless even in the dark. Then I looked down at the sidewalks and couldn't believe what was there. Row upon row upon row of sleeping bags and cardboard boxes, piles of clothing and shopping carts, all discarded people in lines that stretched for blocks. Something in me was so horrified that I sobbed for twenty minutes as we headed back toward home.

In this society of constantly updated video game consoles and blue tooth headsets, of massive malls and casinos and wal marts, why haven't we taken some time and money from all of our successes to somehow solve, if not lessen the homeless crisis? Are they all insane? Addicted? Dangerous? probably. But still people. We dole out welfare checks and give murderers life sentences with a bed and food and healthcare, but to the criminals who have served their time and can't get a job, the mentally ill who were pushed out of facilities strained for space and can't quite function on their own, the veterans who weren't taken care of, these people all need help. If it was your brother, your sister, your mother, even your cousin you might lend a helping hand. But for someone elses brother, sister, you could care less. Welfare reform, single-occupancy housing, better job placement facilities... all of these things might not eliminate the problem, but they guarantee improvement and some sort of hope.

I can volunteer, I can cry, I can care. None of these things get a homeless person an address or a job. I feel powerless.