Robert in a Wheelchair
In recent weeks I'd walked, bicycled or driven past the sidewalk where the Old Crow Book Club typically meets, and seen multiple times an upended wheelchair, blankets and plastic bags full of possessions scattered across the concrete.
There was never anyone around the mess, although twice I saw a lump under the blankets that could have been a human being.
It all made no sense until not too long ago, I learned the story from Mark and a man who lives two houses down from the sidewalk.
The man was talking to Mark and Mark introduced me as the author of the book. Neighbor Man (I've since forgotten his name) shook my hand vigorously, said he'd loved the book, and thanked me for writing it. It turned out he knew all the members of the book club and for many years before I'd met them.
We discussed the book for a few minutes and then I asked Mark about the wheelchair. I hadn't seen it around the last few days.
Mark and Neighbor Man told me the story of its occupant. His name was Robert and he was elderly, a double amputee and homeless in the neighborhood. He'd been around for a long time, but incredibly I'd never seen or met him. The past couple of weeks, Robert had experienced some kind of severe mental breakdown and was screaming, hallucinating, harassing nearby homeowners (one who had confronted him concerned for the safety of his children) and sleeping on the sidewalk in general disarray. He had soiled himself repeatedly and Neighbor Man had brought him several changes of clothing and spent hours on the phone with various 2-1-1 operators who didn't have a clue how to help a deranged and disabled homeless senior get into emergency housing.
Neighbor Man referenced my frustrations chronicled in the book about 2-1-1 and other city, county and nonprofit organizations tasked with addressing the homeless crisis and not doing any really substantive addressing. Neighbor Man delivered a profane criticism of city and county officials and I could hardly disagree.
The more Neighbor Man and I discussed Robert's terrible, life-threatening condition, the more I realized that, once again, I had met yet another citizen in the neighborhood doing what he could to help one homeless person drawn inexorably into that citizen's orbit.
I knew the feeling of that kind of gravity of compassion all too well. Once it grips you, you must act.
Neighbor Man remarked that the last time he'd talked to Robert, he was somewhat lucid, and said someone else in the neighborhood (also orbiting) had possibly helped him find housing. He just needed ID. ID!!!!!???? But someone was working on that for him, too.
As I have written before, this private and mostly silent, unacknowledged initiative to help homeless people is going on all over Portland, the rest of Oregon, and the United States. And I'm talking much more than handing out water, tents and power bars.
Some politician needs to tap into this type of American compassion that runs Crater Lake deep and let it better partner with all the official programs. I can think of ten ways right now how this partnership might work.
I don't care if the politician exploits this partnership or not for political gain. I'd love to see someone, anyone touting large scale successes in addressing the homeless crisis.
As I've also written before, someone could go all the way to the White House on this, telling a narrative of widespread success, not a narrative of blame and failure.
I'd sure like to run that campaign!