from my home to the MUNI underground, soaked by the atmospheric river and lashed by the wind. The last stage was waiting in the bus shelter in the Castro for the 24 Divisadero, which would drop me a few blocks from my home.
There was someone already sitting in the shelter. He was a young Black man who was NOT dressed for the weather. His hoodie was pulled over his head. He sat with his arms wrapped tightly around his body, his long legs stretched out beyond the meager roof of the shelter. His sneakers had to be soaked. He stared straight ahead, talking softly to himself. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but somehow I did not think he was mentally ill. He was not waiting for the bus. How did I know? I knew. What could I say? Any gesture of compassion or friendliness felt meaningless, since I was not willing to invite him to escape the weather by spending the night at my home. I was going home to my warm dry flat that had an empty guest room, and I was not willing. I am not writing this to show you what a flawed human being I am. I am writing this to talk about how we are all forced to be cold and inhumane because our society isn’t providing housing for everyone. People with empty guest rooms cannot be expected to take in strangers they see soaked and shivering at a bus stop in horrible weather. I do not expect that of myself. He kept talking softly, and then his voice began to tremble. He was on the edge of tears, still looking straight ahead, still talking. As I write now, I’m realizing that perhaps the only thing worse than sheltering for the cold wet night at a bus stop is sharing that bus stop with someone who is waiting for a bus to take her to her dry and probably warm home. Maybe the most compassionate thing I could have done was to walk to the next bus stop. But it never occurred to me. I felt immobilized. The bus arrived and I got on. It wasn’t until then I remembered I could phone 311 and tell Homeless Outreach that there was someone who needed help at the bus stop on 19th and Castro. I did that, and a very kind-sounding man told me that someone would go and talk to shivering man on the verge of tears. At times like this, I always recall an experience I had when I was 13. I watched a documentary on public television that showed footage of the Warsaw Ghetto during the Nazi Occupation of Poland. A German soldier had secretly filmed daily life in the Ghetto, walking around the streets of the Jewish quarter where over 300,000 Polish Jews were trapped by 10-foot high barbed wire fences. The most memorable image for me was this: Jews walked past Jews who were begging, without even looking at them. I, at 13, had never seen anyone begging or sleeping on the street. There was no homeless “problem” in the U.S. then, because there was enough public housing for everyone. It wasn’t nice, but it was housing. In my ignorant and judgmental mind, I saw the Jews in the Warsaw Ghetto walking by as heartless, evil people. I knew that I would never, ever walk by someone begging without giving them some money, acknowledging them in some way. I would never pretend that people begging were invisible. I cannot forget that high-minded and judgmental adolescent. And now, it's a common occurrence for me to walk by people living on the street, with my eyes averted. I know it's bad for my soul.
This is not a problem that can be solved by individuals, even indivioduials with an empty guestroom. PEOPLE NEED A SAFE PLACE TO LIVE! All of them! I have read "The homeless will always be with us" in articles and letters about this issue. Not true! This is a relatively new problem in our country, I assure you! And it not the problem of any one city. It is a NATIONAL problem. It is a result of President Reagan's decision to dismantle public housing, which has not been reversed by any subsequent President.
Our federal government needs to work with states and cities to provide heavily subsidized housing throughout the land.
Please contact your Congressional Representatives about this: https://www.congress.gov/contact-us
Bloggellinis: What does it do to our souls, every time we walk by someone who we know has no home to go to? I don't want to become numb. Terry | 
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