When I visited Portland's Old Town last fall, I realized how much it had changed from the “Burnside” neighborhood I lived and worked in over thirty years ago. Where there had once been old hotels and flophouses, there are now trendy night clubs and offices.
I entered one of the agencies still serving the district's transient population, Transition Projects, Inc., and asked what overnight shelters were available for the homeless. The young lady standing behind the counter mentioned several facilities which have been operating for decades. I asked, “Where do the rest of the homeless sleep?” She lowered her head appearing too embarassed to answer. I said, “They're sleeping on park benches and sidewalks, aren't they?” She nodded. I then inquired if there were as many transient individuals currently living in the Portland area as there had been 30 years ago. She said, “Yes, probably more.”
I spoke with an employee of one of the existing shelters, the Portland Rescue Mission, who confirmed that current facilities provide only a fraction of the space required to protect all those who need it. When I reflected how the city of Portland has abandoned its transient population, I cried.
I called the Bureau of Housing Commissioner Erik Sten, and an aide told me it planned to furnish a temporary homeless shelter “during the winter months only.” This is a far reach from the former Northwest Everett Street Drop-in Center, located between Fifth and Sixth Avenues, which annually provided shelter for up to 150 transient individuals throughout the year.
Clearly, in reshaping its downtown image, the city has dispersed its transient population, perhaps hoping they may “disappear.” Ironically, in 1976, when several of us petitioned to keep the Northwest Everett Street Drop-in Center in operation, we demonstrated that it would cost the city significantly more money to monitor the homeless if they were scattered throughout Portland than if they were staying primarily in one district. The city elected to keep the Drop-in Center open.
By neglecting our homeless, we are really denying the nature and reality of our own vulnerability. We would all like to think of ourselves as being able to stand on our own or “pull our own weight,” but inevitably we reach a point where we can no longer fully take care of ourselves. For most of us this happens near the end of our lives, but for some it happens much earlier.
The residents I knew in Burnside had one thing in common: Each of them encountered a kind of emotional or psychological wall in their lives which, for one reason or another, they were unable to move beyond. Abandoning those who cannot take care of themselves is like ignoring one of our own children who has a drug problem. Pretending the problem doesn't exist only makes it worse.
We are not going to change the lives of the homeless in a positive way by pointing our fingers and saying, “Get a job!” Instead we can enhance their lives — and our own — by sharing ourselves with them and giving them support. My most vivid recollection of the residents of Burnside was the compassion and acceptance many of them showed me. I hope I brought some comfort and happiness into their lives, but ultimately it was their kindness and humility which strengthened my own life.
In order for the city of Portland to reconcile with its own guilt, its citizens must expand their spheres of compassion and provide a permanent shelter for its transient population. Fundamentally, a clear conscience is the strongest face we can project.
