Walking down 6th street in the middle of the day is an experience that makes you realize there are a lot of people out there who have had very difficult lives.  You can see it in the the grime that seems to be performanently creased into the lines on their faces, in their blank eyes, in their plastic grocery bags filled with their belongings.  Where do they go each day?  What do they think?  Where did they start to end up here, meandering down sixth street with nowhere to go, tattoos of tears and diamonds on their faces?  What state were they in that they let someone put tattoos on their faces?  Even the street itself looks sad and dirty, especially on a day like today when the sky is gray with clouds and soot.  And I hate that I feel fear sometimes when I’m walking among them and all the tourist and businesspeople seem to have disappeared and it’s just me and the forgotten street people.  I can drown them out, turn up my headphones and concentrate on the rhythm.  But I can’t turn them off.  Can’t pretend they aren’t there.  Who was the first person to fail them?  Who was the last?  Who was the one that failed them so badly, they’ve never recovered?

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Comments

some weirdo in a weird mood, ok its smashley

2005-01-13T18:36:58.000Z

They are in that general area in higher numbers because the Salvation Army center where they can rest and eat is just a few blocks away.  If I learned anything during my few years with United Way it is that there are resources, though limited, for help and there are people who really do care.  It is the non-profits of our country that take the rough edge off of capitalism and smooth out the wrinkles in this free market. 

One day I walked out from work at United Way (east austin) and there was a man bleeding from the head in the middle of the street.  I whipped out my cell phone and called 911 while standing at his feet.  While I talked to the dispatch I sized him up; bicycle laying next to him, police monitor on his ankle.  When they asked me what color he was (and yes, they really did) I said black and they replied they would send the police as well.  Sigh.  But when they told me to stop his bleeding I said no, I dont want to touch his blood.  He had a towel in his pocket and since he had regained consciousness I told him to hold it to his head.  At that point he was pissed and yelling at me and the few people who had gathered around.

Did I feel guilty for not wanting to touch him?  Oh hell yeah.  But that was my instinct.  And so when you are chilling, walking around downtown and you see people who make you nervous, dont be ashamed - its your survival instinct. Because if memory serves me well it was a homeless man who went down 6th street one night, in the crowd, and stabbed everyone he passed - about 5 people.  While that was a very random act and no way does it mean that homeless people are armed and dangerous, it does not hurt to be aware of your surroundings.

Oh and I blame Reagan.