As I make my way to the gym every morning, there are a variety of buildings and people I usually see as I leave my car in the garage to entering the doors. And most of these people are homeless.
If you’ve ever been to Santa Monica, one of the hot spots to hang out is called the Third Street Promenade. For those who don’t know what this is, it’s similar to both 16th Street in Denver and Pearl Street in Boulder, or like the Riverwalk in San Antonio minus the river. Basically, it’s like an outdoor mall with restaurants and shops that take up about five blocks, starting with a huge indoor mall on one end.
Every Wednesday, there is usually a Famer’s Market in the middle of this mall. And no, all of you Texans, I’m not talking about a side road that cuts from one freeway to the next. We’re talking a real market where area farmers drive to sell their produce directly to the customer, bypassing the supermarket middleman. It’s amazing how many people show up and buy their food fresh at one of these markets.
I digress.
Along the street of the promenade are many black, metel benches in which to sit. And every morning, these benches are regularly populated with homeless people sleeping and waiting for the impending day to start. Sometimes they’re congregated in certain areas, already awake and ready to panhandle their way into food, booze or drugs.
During the day, these folks are all over the place, trying to catch the passerby’s eye to request help or spare some money. As do most people, I am not one to pay attention to these people, but it’s not to say I don’t see them or realize they are there. And you know, it doesn’t get easier facing homeless people in one place versus another. Pearl Street in Boulder has a very similar homeless population, although most of those people are hippys. Same with all the cities in Texas I have ever dwelled. These people are everywhere.
But I am always curious to know, how do people end up this way? How do they continue to, day after day, live such a unhappy, dreadful life? They smell bad. They look dirty. They are often sad or bitter. And yet, they have given up all hope for a better life.
Sometimes the Samaritan in me wants to go up to one of them, take them to eat a meal and learn about their life. Most of me wants to just ignore them and hope they go away and leave me alone. It’s such a taboo.