The Defenestration of a Lack of Motivation

A Story by Tim M

An essay on homelessness.

    We called him Crazy Larry. Not very creative, I know, but we were just kids when we got our first glimpse at the man pushing around a shopping cart wearing mirrored goggles and a flannel hunting cap. Through the spring and summer, Larry would collect things he found around town, and build up his shopping cart until it became so large he could no longer push it anymore. There were times it had a ten foot silver wingspan, shining hub caps along the side, and once a broken totem pole that reached almost ten feet high. That’s usually when the police would take it away.
   There were rumors that he was violent, crazed, and was to be avoided at all costs. But standing outside of the Arby’s I was leaving one day when I was fifteen, he seemed sweet natured and simply hungry. I gave him a sandwich, and he thanked me heartily before tucking it into the multitudes of trinkets in his cart. I would find out later that he was a loving husband and father, and had a substantial net worth for our little Montana town. But he was also a schizophrenic, and was prone to stop taking his medications, which led to long periods of seeing Larry around town, collecting things to build up his cart.
   According to the National Coalition For the Homeless, an average of 730,000 people are homeless every night, with children making up about a fourth of that number. Why in the land of TV’s as big as cars, where half the world’s richest people live, are some citizens still sleeping in boxes and begging for spare change? Because not enough of us are doing anything about it, especially those with the big-money muscle, and if things continue the way they are going, this problem won’t be going away anytime soon.
   It’s easy to ignore the problem, which is one of the reasons it‘s still perpetuated. You see a filthy, unshaven, perhaps even deranged person living on a street corner and begging for some of the money that you worked for. But we forget that these people weren‘t born like this. Many come from normal homes and backgrounds, and are often simply victims of circumstance. A few have even made it to Hollywood after catching the attention‘s of the right people.
   Nathaniel Ayers, the Los Angeles homeless man who was the subject of the film The Soloist, based on Steve Lopez’s Times columns and subsequent book, was a Julliard trained bassist that ended up on the streets because of his mental breakdown.
   Ted Williams is another recent example. A one-time voice over artist, he had been living homeless since around 1993, until he was discovered by a Columbus, Ohio reporter. Ted was standing next to traffic with a sign advertising his vocal skills, and after exemplifying what’s become known as ’The Golden Voice’, he’s received national attention, as well as job offers. Ted attributes his drug and alcohol problems to some of the contributing factors that led to his homelessness.
   And yet, though we know these people are just like us--indeed maybe closer than we care to imagine--we have been trained to ignore them. They are the outcasts of our society, the fringe dwellers. And of course we are healthy, productive members of society. We contribute, we pay taxes, we are consumers: We matter. The homeless represent in the average citizens eyes the worst possible outcome, and the fear that goes along with hitting absolute bottom. They live and die as unknowns in the eyes of most, so it’s only so easy to keep walking and ignore that dented cup that begs for just a few more coins.
   As George Carlin put it in his special Jamming in New York, “First thing, change the name of it. It’s not ’homelessness’, it’s ’houselessness’. It’s houses these people need. A home is an abstract idea, a home is a setting, a state of mind. These people need houses! Physical, tangible structures.” He’s advocating low-cost housing, but points out that no one wants this housing near their house. Rehab centers, halfway houses, housing for the mentally handicapped, the response is usually the same: “Not in my backyard”. Most people realize the programs are inherently helpful, they just don’t want to have to see the underbelly of the infallible capitalist system in their neighborhood. So where do we put this low-cost housing they so desperately need? He goes on to offer a viable solution to the problem, “I know where we can build housing for the homeless: golf courses. Plenty of good land in nice neighborhoods, land that is currently being wasted on a meaningless, mindless activity engaged in primarily by white, well-to-do businessmen… It is time to reclaim the golf courses from the wealthy, and turn them over to the homeless.” Now, if an average 18 hole golf course requires around 150 acres of land, and there are about 16,000 courses in the United States, that would equal out to over two million acres of land. That’s about the size of Los Angeles county, which already holds over ten million people.
   George might have a point.
   Now I know, this is just adding up to a big shoulder heap of guilt. The same finger pointing you hear over all sorts of issues, and the same subconscious conclusion: But what can I really do? Most of us work for our living, and lead lives that don’t allow time for massive philanthropic undertakings. But don’t worry, I’m not suggesting you start building shelters in your backyards, or hold mass demonstrations wherever you can. That might help, but it’s not necessarily practical to the everyday working stiff.
   What you can do is donate your old clothes to shelters, volunteer if you have the time, get to know these people as faces and real lives and not just statistics. Join coalitions and help to create new legislature in your home town to help these people. Give old appliances, books, computers, pots, pans, toothbrushes, shampoo, shoes, toys and anything else you don’t need or want to a shelter. These are people that have almost nothing, and even the smallest item you might usually just throw away could go a long way in the lives of these men and women.
   And if that’s too much, then just stop and have a conversation. Even a person living dirty on a street corner has a story and a mind, so why not at least get to know one? Give that pile of change that sits endlessly in your car’s center console to someone who needs it. Or the next time you’re at a restaurant, maybe grab an extra sandwich for your own Crazy Larry. Who knows, it might make all the difference.