I worked for homeless services in NY for 2.5 years. During that time, I had the honor of meeting some of the brightest, and darkest, minds. I had various encounters with homeless men and women from all walks of life: an Afro-Cuban man with a degree in mechanical engineering; a graduate from Fordam Law School who had a successful real estate law practice; a man who was a famous jazz musician; the mother of an extremely famous NFL player; a political exile from Angola who’s family was murdered and was in NY to petition for grievances at the UN; a woman who came from a wealth British family but was afflicted with drug abuse and mental illness; a man who came to NY to run a marathon in the early 1990s and never left; and the list continues. The “homeless” problem is really a problem with the “homed”. People who are are confined to living on the street, for whatever reason, are no different than people who are confined to living in formal dwelling places. The apparent difference lies in how we see ourselves verse how we see “them”. People who live on the street cannot dress their problems in nice clothes or hide them in apartments or houses – they are exposed, in their rawest and truest form, for the world to see. So when we walk down the street, it is hard to look at the man or woman sitting against the curb or in the corner – we have shame, or even worse, pity. What we fail to realize is that they have made it their life’s job to teach society a lesson (an unchosen occupation might I add). They are our mirrors. What we see in them is who we truly are.
ALCOHOLIC:
