Rare is the day that I can walk around my Sam Hughes neighborhood in Tucson, Arizona without encountering a homeless person. It’s not Skid Row by any stretch, but the down-and-out are amongst us. Once in a while, a transient will set up camp in an alley behind a vacant commercial building on the neighborhood’s perimeter or in the oleander grove in Himmel Park. Sometimes they’ll sleep in the open under a tree in the park, in front of the library or on a picnic table. The picnic tables and exercise bench near the tennis courts are particularly popular.
My family and our neighbors have had a few unpleasant experiences with vagrants over the years. In one instance, when my son was ten, he and I met with a group for a morning run at the park. As the leader was explaining the route, a homeless-looking guy about five yards behind him started shouting obscenities and climbing on a tree. Another time that same year, two bums were hanging around the pull-up bar in the park while my son and I were on a walk. I wanted to do some pull-ups so I walked toward the pull-up bar. One of the guys saw me headed his way and yelled, “What the fuck are you looking at?” I ignored him and completed my pull-ups as my nervous son observed from a safe distance.
I was familiar with those two chaps as they had a habit of walking past my house every morning. The smaller of the two always pushed a bike that he invariably would slam to the ground and then start yelling profanities. Then the bigger one, whom I called “Buttcrack Man” because he always showed it, would shout at him to pick up his bike. Buttcrack Man and Bike Boy–they had a routine.
On another occasion, my son and I were walking past the library in the morning and a couple of hippy-looking dudes were rolling around in their sleeping bags. One looked at us and moaned erotically, “Ohhhhh Daddy.” Interesting.
There’s more. I’ve had shoes stolen from someone who hopped our fence. Most likely a homeless person took those since the shoes were ancient Crocs covered in paint stains. Not sure who else other than me and a homeless person would want those. Notwithstanding the creepiness of someone monitoring my front patio so closely that he could see a pair of Crocs, I didn’t mind the theft too much.
However, I did mind reading a story on the neighborhood listserv about a picnic of a couple of young mothers and their toddlers being violently interrupted by a transient yelling at them and trampling their picnic blanket. Thankfully nobody was physically harmed, but it sounded scary. Speaking of scary, there was the time a man dressed all in black followed my wife as she walked our dogs at night. He might not have been homeless; maybe he was just yet another sketchy character prowling our central Tucson neighborhood. Eventually she told him to pass on by, which fortunately he did. She doesn’t walk the dogs alone at night, anymore. I don’t feel comfortable walking the dogs alone at night, either, these days.
Here’s another scary one. One day I looked out my window to see a young man apparently on drugs and/or suffering from mental illness throwing rocks at my neighbor’s house and then picking a fight with their cactus. He boxed several rounds with the cactus and knocked some limbs off. The cactus held its ground, though, until the police arrived. I watched in horror as they took the guy down, and the family fled the house to allow the cops to check everything out. “Where the hell do I live?” I thought. The family moved shortly thereafter. I thought about moving, and sometimes I still do.
Mostly, though, the transients mind their own business like anyone else. Sometimes we say hello; sometimes we don’t. I walk my dogs; they push their shopping carts. A few weeks ago, I saw three abandoned shopping carts piled high with an assortment of repurposed items, although the purposes weren’t clear to me. The carts sat there for a few days and then vanished. They were the traditional shiny, stainless steel models. I found an orange cart the other day–Home Depot. It sat in front of a neighbor’s house until somebody moved it into the alley behind our houses. Shopping carts are unwieldy; you need couple of people to load them into a pickup or large SUV. My son and I folded my vehicle seats down, lifted the cart in, and secured it with a bungee cord for the trip to Home Depot. Fittingly, as I unloaded the cart in the parking lot, a beggar approached me to ask for money.
Sometimes I criticize myself for subjecting my son and wife to residing in a neighborhood with homelessness issues. There are myriad places we could live and not see anyone who is homeless. I grew up in a neighborhood like that. However, seeing the homeless can be a good thing. Because they are not out of sight, they are not out of mind. They are worthy of our concern and our assistance. The question is how do we assist?
I don’t believe homelessness will ever be “resolved”. Jesus himself said, “The poor you will always have with you.” However, we can take meaningful, targeted actions. Our family recently donated to the Salvation Army Thanksgiving dinner drive so we’ll feed several people on Turkey Day. That type of donation feels good, but it is a one-off that provides meals for one day and doesn’t do much else.
I recently learned about Sister Jose Women’s Center from Tucson City Council Member Steve Kozachik’s newsletter. He provided photographs and information from a tour he took of the organization’s facility that shelters homeless women, even during the pandemic. In the last twelve months, Sister Jose’s has provided nearly 14,000 meals, over 5,000 showers, over 2,300 light suppers, 2,000 daytime quiet rests, more than 3,000 overnights, and has provided nourishment to over 13,000 day guests. The organization also has begun to provide case management and access to medical services for guests. Immediately after reading about Sister Jose’s, I made a donation online, and we have since established an automatic, monthly contribution.
More information on Sister Jose Women’s Center can be found: here.
I lack big ideas about homelessness. I just see it every day and want to do something to help. Sister Jose’s seems like a good start. How about you? Does homelessness concern you? Do you want to do anything about it?
With Love,
P. Gustav Mueller, author of The Present
Relevant Links:
Himmel Park, Tucson, Arizona
Sam Hughes Neighborhood, Tucson, Arizona
Salvation Army, Tucson, Arizona
National Alliance to End Homelessness
Steve Kozachik, Tucson, Arizona City Council Member