Denver For The Win

German Lopez in the paper of record, “We Know How to Fix Homelessness. Look at Denver.”

Strong start:

“Homelessness, all appearances to the contrary, is a long-solved problem. We know both the causes and the cure. You wouldn’t think that’s the case from visiting many U.S. cities. Stymied by political and financial hurdles, progressive bastions including Los Angeles, Seattle and Burlington, Vt., appear to have given up. They have surrendered public spaces to the homeless and their encampments to the point that it’s difficult to describe these spaces as truly for the public anymore.

Denver shows what happens when a city puts into place proven policies with determination and focus. Not only has it dramatically reduced homelessness, it embarrasses every other urban jurisdiction that has failed to deal with its Covid-era surge of homeless encampments. Other cities no longer have an excuse.”

Sober analysis:

“Politically, none of this is easy. On the policing side, progressives remain skeptical of using law enforcement to deal with what they see as largely an economic issue. On the housing side, the constraint is money. Building housing and shelters requires public and private funds that cities often don’t have and aren’t willing to prioritize over other spending and tax cuts.”

Progress towards ‘the goal’:

“. . . residents told the mayor they finally had been able to get their lives in order. Staff at The Aspen and other shelters spend much of their time preparing people to leave. They help residents get the documents they need to find a job and permanent housing. They connect them to training, education programs and additional government aid, including housing vouchers and rent subsidies. Residents don’t face hard limits on how long they can stay, but providers are, under their contracts, evaluated on how many people they help get on the right path.

The goal is to keep people off the streets for good. To that end, the city still has to address the high cost of housing. Denver has enacted some reforms, but buying and renting a home remain too expensive for much of the poor and middle class.”

Progressives are too soft:

“Progressives tend to view the enforcement side of anti-homelessness strategies with disdain because it can involve criminalizing an economic or a mental health issue. At the same time, residents don’t want encampments clogging up parks and sidewalks. Progressive cities have tried to get around the dilemma by flooding the streets with social services, hoping that offers of help would get people on the streets to pack up. The reality, as cities have painfully learned, is that people often need a stronger push to abandon their tents.”

The Principal principle:

“Mayor Johnston described his strategy through his perspective as a former school principal. ‘Your job is to keep everyone safe,’ he said. ‘That means I love every single kid in the building. And if there’s one kid who’s making other kids in the building feel unsafe, my job is to either help him change his behavior or hold him accountable for it.'”

The key ingredient:

“I came away from Denver convinced that the mayor’s focus and determination are the most crucial factors. I’ve seen this happen nationwide: Policies that work in one place fail in another because officials can replicate the law or the money, but not the leadership — the force of will — behind the original success.”

If you could use a dose of hopefulness, read the whole thing.

The “Truth” Is Always In The Middle

Think of it as the flip side of “woke mind disease”. Suburban moderates in Greater Seattle, and especially right wing nutters, love nothing more than complaining about all things Seattle. It gives their lives purpose. More specifically, the leftist politicians in charge, homelessness, decaying public spaces, and lax policing.

Then you come across a story like this one. “Alongside World Cup, Seattle’s street soccer scene is alive at Judkins Park.”

Major props to Carly Dykes and the Seattle Times for restoring some balance and so poignantly reminding us that our Big City, despite real challenges, has redeeming qualities too.

On The Sidewalk Ramp Above Deschutes Parkway

Last night I went for a beautiful sunset run. West Bay, Tugboat Annie’s flyby, and back to Cap Lake for a short out and back. I unplugged and started walking at the base of the sidewalk ramp beside the Fifth Street Bridge. And that’s where our story begins. A story I could use your help processing.

Halfway up the first switchback, just above Deschutes Parkway, a women was lying on a blanket seemingly going through her bedtime routine. All sorts of accessories were spread across her blanket which covered the entire width of the sidewalk. As I approached, she said, “You can go around the other way.” Haha, I thought to myself, I’m not taking the unnecessarily long route tonight.

So your intrepid reporter stepped over and around her with one of my dogs landing smack dab on her blanky. Which set her off a bit. “I’m going to say you raped me.” Unable to process that, I kept walking. And then, “Faggot.” That got me to u-turn and engage. Feel free to deduct points at this point.

What I should’ve said is “Homophobic much?” Instead, I asked a question, “Why don’t you think people should be able to walk on this public sidewalk?” Brown skinned, maybe even indigenous, she said, “Because it’s my land.” To which I said, “Well, thank you for letting me use it tonight.” Close curtains.

Come on, you have to give me back the points you previously deducted for the smoothish ending.

This story is either a run-of-the-mill anecdote or an important case study about class differences, urban life, and how we will or won’t get along. Or something in between, I’m not sure.

The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t know my neighbor’s story. Nothing could explain away what she said, but I’m disinclined to castigate her more generally for being troubled and impoverished since I have no idea how she ended up going to sleep on the sidewalk ramp above Deschutes Parkway.

Why Pedestrian Deaths Are Up In The (dis)United States

There are a multiplicity of factors, but this analysis highlights the increase in pedestrian deaths at night as a result of walkers wearing dark clothes, crosswalks being poorly lit, and a rise in homelessness.

I live 4-5 miles from a perfect storm for ped deaths. Right now in Olympia, Washington it’s dark between 15-16 hours a day. Right off a main drag, there’s a Salvation Army that is a magnet for the homeless, whom I refer to as the “walking wounded”. But they’re not always walking. I’ve seen homeless people dressed entirely in black, suddenly shoot across the street on skateboards and bikes, between crosswalks. It’s human-powered transportation Russian Roulette.

There are accidents, sometimes even deaths, but I’m surprised there aren’t more.

Maybe The Future Is Okay

Boy’s hot cocoa stand in southwest Spokane has raised $300 to help people who are homeless.

In unrelated news, except for the fact it’s another young person, I like this picture of a girl and Rafael Devers who recently signed an 11 year, $331m extension (no wonder he’s smiling) for two reasons. She has the exact right color of hair and she has mastered the selfie+, something I’m terrible at.

Why Do People Have To Live Outside?

I receive a weekly culture/media newsletter from the Guardian’s Gwilym Mumford. This weeks highlighted Chat Pile’s new album. I’m not a heavy or “agit-metal” fan, but after reading Mumford’s description of their song “Why” I gave it a listen.

Damn right the protest song is alive and well. Give it a listen below.

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The Ultra Wealthy Are Winning. . . For Now

Based on yesterday’s middling statistics, including how few times the LA Times link was opened, I did a poor job framing Mckenzie’s story. I described it as a long and difficult read hoping you’d rise to the occasion. If I were to suggest all of us go run a hilly and hot marathon, I probably shouldn’t be surprised if none of you show.

I should’ve lead with the importance of regularly mixing in challenging content with all of the light, entertaining stuff that tends to dominate the interwebs.

I can’t shake Mckenzie’s story, especially after reading Evan Osnos’s mind blowing New Yorker piece, “The Haves and The Have-Yachts”. Osnos tells the story of the ultra-rich buying ever larger, more expensive yachts.

If you’re even a little bit like me, and you don’t like the ultra-rich, Osnos’s piece will turn your dislike into a much, much deeper antipathy. If you have high blood pressure, be sure to take your pills first.

I can’t help but read the stories without wondering why in hell the world isn’t overcome by poor people’s revolutions. Osnos makes a few references to the “EatTheRich” movement, but the Wikipedia entry for it describes it as a political slogan associated with class conflict and anti-capitalism.

Sometimes in my hometown of Olympia, WA I see an “Eat the Rich” bumpersticker or graffiti tag. If I was a “Have-Yachter” I’d be thrilled that the primary pushback to the growing wealth gap is some flaccid combo of political slogans and bumperstickers.

This puts me in a tough position in that I don’t condone mindless property damage or really violence of any kind, and yet, I can’t help but wonder if much more radical responses to the growing wealth gap are warranted.

Another dilemma is how do we define “ultra-wealthy”? The tipping point seems to be $30 million, but compared to Mckenzie, I definitely qualify as ultra wealthy.

The legions of ultra wealthy people reading this post are saying to themselves, “We’ll be fine, we’ll just invest even more in security.” Right now they’re right, but whether I live to see it or not, someday poor people’s rage will ignite like the fires in France, Greece, Portugal, and Spain.

Pregnant And Homeless In Los Angeles

“In 2018, three Times reporters slipped through a hole in the fence above the 101 Freeway in Hollywood and into a world of young homeless people. Their objective was to tell the story of women at the cusp of the shifting response to some of the gravest social problems: intergenerational poverty, homelessness, child neglect, mental health, foster care and addiction. A feature-length documentary will be released as a companion to this project. See all of the stories at latimes.com/hollywoodsfinest.”

Mckenzie Trahan’s story. Long and difficult to read/view, but an incredibly illuminating window into homelessness. A story of hardship upon hardship upon hardship.

How Not To Care

If you look even a little bit, the growing population of homeless men, women, and children in Olympia, Washington are easily visible; mostly you’ll find them close to the social service agencies they depend upon, like the Salvation Army and the Thurston County Food Bank. An enormous tent and tarp community stretches all along the western edge of Capital Lake on Deschutes Parkway SW. It looks like a refugee camp you might find in Northeast Africa, but worse because there’s no UNHCR to create some semblance of order. More accurately, picture Miami post Hurricane Katrina. Many more live in tents and tarps among the trees that line the Woodland Trail and the I-5 freeway.  

The classic argument between the Individual Responsibility folks, “they have to take responsibility for their bad decisions” versus the Systemic Forces folks, “the growing numbers of homeless who succumb to combinations of poverty, addiction, and poor mental health are entirely predictable given our ‘winner-takes-all’ economic system coupled with our anemic social safety net” shows no signs of abating. Nearly all of the Individual Responsibility folks respond to  homeless men, women, and children with a mix of resentment and anger. At the same time, a gradually increasing percentage of the Systemic Forces folks are exasperated as some natural areas are lost and downtown grows less clean and safe.

So why, as the population of homeless men, women, and children rises; does it seem like our collective empathy decreases? Even among a lot of decent people who have demonstrated empathy in their past for others less fortunate than them?

Mired in resentment and anger, we leapfrog caring about our fellow citizens’ pain and suffering because we don’t know any homeless person’s story. We don’t know where they’re from, what their childhood was like, what hardships they’ve had to endure. Not knowing any of those things makes it much easier to assume they’ve made a series of bad decisions. And that until they start making good ones, they get what they deserve. 

Local papers don’t have the resources to tell their stories anymore. And even if alternative papers tried, would we read them when we don’t even really look at our homeless neighbors? As if they have leprosy, the best we can do, it seems, is a quick glance.

The secret to not caring about the homeless is not knowing anything about any one homeless person. Not learning their names and not looking at them helps too, but mostly, it’s avoiding learning how and why and where things went off the rails. 

Irrespective of one’s religious views or politics, it seems increasingly common to castigate “the homeless”. Because they remain an abstraction. 

This proven strategy works equally well in other contexts too. For example, the same approach to not caring works for the growing number of Central American immigrants gathering at our southern border. Many Fox News hosts are absolutely giddy over what the gathering numbers of desperate immigrants mean for Biden’s approval ratings and the midterm elections because they don’t know any of their stories. There are laws to be enforced and political gain to be made, nevermind their pain and suffering, their humanity.

Yesterday, I screwed up. And mistakenly read this story in the New York Times.

A Violent End to a Desperate Dream Leaves a Guatemalan Town Grieving

In doing so, I was introduced to Santa Cristina García Pérez, a 20 year old, one of twelve Comitecos who were massacred by Mexican police near the U.S. border. I learned Christina was one of 11 siblings who hoped to make enough money in the U.S. to. . . 

“. . . cover the cost of an operation for her one-year-old sister, Angela Idalia, who was born with a cleft lip. . . . 

She wanted to save Ángela Idalia from what she thought would be a life of ridicule, relatives said.”

I doubled down on my mistake by taking my time to truly see all of the Comitecos mourning their friends and family. Powerful images of profound loss, one after another. Including one of Ricardo García Pérez, Cristina’s dad, placing a bottle of water next to her casket. . .

“. . . so that Ms. García’s spirit did not suffer from thirst on its journey to the next life.”

I wasn’t the only one learning about the Comitecos. The Times explains:

“The killings have stunned the community, spurred a wave of international media attention on Comitancillo and an outpouring of financial support for the victim’s families. Among other acts of largess, donations from nearby communities in the region and from the Guatemalan diaspora have paid for Ángela Idalia’s first surgery to repair her cleft lip and have enabled the García family to build a new house.”

That’s one more vivid example that when most people see someone suffering, look into their eyes, learn their name, and something about their life journey; they can’t help but care. And help.

In contrast, the homeless in my community remain an abstraction. An abstraction most of us are determined to keep at a comfortable distance. Given our mounting resentment and anger at this abstraction, we keep asking, “When is someone going to do something?” 

 

Hating The Homeless

Monday morning post swim workout. YMCA locker room. The showers specifically, but you didn’t do anything to deserve that unsettling imagery. I’d say I was eavesdropping on the two men across from me, but the one man hating on the homeless was so worked up, so loud, I don’t think it really counted as eavesdropping.

LIVID at how many people were living under the 4th Street Bridge downtown.

ENRAGED at how many resources the state was dedicating to helping them.

FURIOUS at them for not having the decency to live indoors.

So indignant, I couldn’t organize my thoughts until immediately afterwards. Isn’t that how it always is? As soon as I escaped his orbit, I knew what I should’ve said to him.

“It’s so amazing how you’ve never lacked for anything, how you’ve never even needed any compassion from anyone. You are so perfectly together, your life is such a model of success, you owe it to everyone of those homeless men, women, and children to share your life lessons. You should go down to the 4th Street Bridge right now and start your “Live Life Just Like Me!” lecture series. I’m sure they will be appreciative and immediately start applying all of your amazing insights on how to live. And as a result of that wisdom, and your incredible personal example, they will no longer be homeless. And just like you, they will have disposable income, some of which they will use to also join the YMCA. Then they will join us in these exact same showers, and following your amazing lead, express their outrage at some other offending subset of people.”