I ran into Sean, a member of the Old Crow Book Club, on a cold weekday morning. He was standing outside his domicile, a 1975 Dodge Ram pickup with a windowless canopy, and sorting through his possessions. We struck up a conversation. He always asks me how Dad is doing in assisted…
Monday morning, I sit at a table in a coffee shop. A young woman taps a tablet. Marty, the shop's homeless mascot just rolled his folded blankets…
I drove slowly down a boulevard of the neighborhood on a cold Saturday afternoon. The forecast called for light snow. I passed a closed urgent care…
In recent weeks, I have felt something new in connection to the crisis of homelessness all around me: a hardening of the heart toward some homeless…
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I just passed 300,000 words writing about the crisis of Oregon homelessness. I recently extracted and polished 40,000 words from that output for a book…
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Was I happy at the sweep? Yes, I admit I was. I wanted the miscreants out of the wetlands. It would take half a decade to heal, but it would. I knew…
Regular readers of this newsletter know I hold no sympathy with those homeless people who destroy the natural areas they inhabit. I've seen this…
I saw a four-foot man pushing a grocery cart. The cart contained three large bags of cans and bottles. The top bag was at least four feet over the man's…
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The New American Diaspora