OK, America, people of the street, here are a few ideas on how we can make life on the street more conducive not only for our tired asses but those that look upon homelessness as a crime. I think food cards should allow one to be able to buy cough drops or products along those lines, rather than just food and junkfood products such as Pepsi. (Not that I don’t enjoy a good Pepsi like any average American.) Unfortunately, that seems to be just a reward of the American Express card, or Discover.
Or how about a place to come home to, at least a place to rest your head where the staff is more concerned with the guidelines of depravity and rejection that the streets seem to bring to one’s soul, rather than if one has his or her socks off in the day room. Where the bathrooms in the back smell like urine while workers, not volunteers, have time to do crossword puzzles. Not that crossword puzzles don’t have their time in our American workforce nowadays.
Do I dare discuss the horrible attribute that paperwork seems to bring to the process of being just another average homeless person? Spreadsheets that give a false stature of importance to our systems that simply give you a number, a number that does not seem to do much but bring more weight to the fact that you simply don’t matter when you are out there on the streets. At least we could try to reach a system where the number has a little color to it.
Or how about a cup of water being available rather than a shot glass for after one brushes their teeth? Or how about a laundry facility that the city helps set up for the dreaded homeless and their bladders; that they — the brothers and sisters of the street — maintained with guidelines, of course. Then we would not have to worry about the middle class getting offended when they have to trek through homeless territory to do some good old-fashioned American shopping.
Availability of being able to process one’s dirty-ass underwear instead of throwing them away, or wearing them until the stench makes middle America stare and run rather than just stare and dash the other direction. Then maybe we might feel human rather than just barcodes on hearts, and then we might actually search for a job without the fear of personal appearance.
Or here is a brilliant idea – establish a bathroom in the city where homeless most populate and allow them to maintain the digs so, once again, the middle class can dance around without fear of urine and whatnot spattered around like impromptu art or something. I suppose if none of the above is possible, how about a simple sandwich that is not expired by eight days and made with unsafe products that expire quickly, like eggs and mayo.
I don’t know how to accomplish this alone or inspire tired injured souls of the street to do it together. I’m just a girl in the world alone, my brothers and sisters.
Feeling human is all anyone wants and we must try to find solutions to these simple problems in this country, not only for the homeless but for all Americans.
Because if we as a country cannot find solutions for such issues, then how are we going to help other countries find solutions to their issues at hand, or is it really all about money, America? Another aspect I would like to touch on but is not a concern for the homeless of this nation (but may fuel the money within our systems to generate some solutions for our brothers and sisters that are tired and hungry) is middle America, we elect Georgie Boy, and then the one time he wants to do something constructive, such as pillage our own land up there in Alaska for oil, we say no. Now what good does that do our country in a war over oil, with our young men and women dying for oil, not rights?
