A line of homeless people quietly stand in line waiting to be served paper plates full of food by a group of teenagers and kids. The homeless folks are solemn while the kids work hard to interact as they load the plates with pasta, salad, fruit and bread. They are celebrating and smiling as they greet each man and women wearing multiple coats on this warm Santa Barbara afternoon.
We are in a park across the street from the ocean so the whole thing has a picnic feel as people spread blankets to sit on or simply plop down in the grass to eat. A long grocery cart is piled high with discarded clothes. One man has a tall one in a brown paper bag that he takes swigs from as he eats. Students walk around passing our bottles of water and socks.
Socks are the gold standard of homelessness. You spend so much time on your feet that you really go through them quickly. Imagine wearing the same pair of socks for a week with no ability to do anything other than wash them out in a public restroom. It leads to bad hygiene of course and worsens over time but what is one to do with limited laundry options? Giving someone socks is the quickest way to make a friend on the streets.
I am standing behind a taped off section where there are tables and chairs occupied with doctors, nurses, medical students and social workers treating homeless men and women. There is a great deal more interaction here as dirty patients loudly run through the litany of their illnesses ... which are many. The professionals and students are in as good a humor as the teenagers and kids serving the food.
I look passed the park to the beauty of Santa Barbara ... the harbor where I'd had lunch, the beach that I'd walked that morning, the blue Pacific Ocean and the mountains of California. The city is beauty at the beach. It is full of tourists from around the world and every language is heard. The hotels are all full and the sidewalk cafes are crowded. The sky is clear and the salt hangs in the air.
This is a tranquil and serene wonderland ... for people who can afford it. The average two bedroom house in Santa Barbara starts at $2.1 Million. No wonder everyone is dressed you nice.
Except for the ragged ones who live on the far ends of the beach and the public parks of the city. After the picnic in the park a group of us do "Street Rounds" going out in teams looking for the hidden ones. We pass a huge bush that has two feet sticking out from under it. Jennifer, a mental health outreach worker, exclaims "I know those feet! It's John!"
She rushes over and slowly John emerges from the bush. It's now dusk and he was settling in for the night. Wobbly he stands and grins at Jennifer. Laura the doctor wanders over and gives him a quick examination. A medical student opens his backpack and gives John water, fruit and socks. He smiles.
We turn and continue "Street Rounds" finding people who are not seen by most and ignored by more. It's a shame that a disproportionate number of them are veterans.
After it grows too dark to find anybody else, the Street Round teams collect back together in the park. There are hugs, stories and Laura announces it is time to go to "The Office". The Office is a bar, so everyone makes their way there for beer and debriefing. They will also plan next week's Street Rounds.
I opt of the office meeting. I've sworn them off. So I wave bye and make my way back to the hotel as I have to get up at 5:00 in the morning.
At the hotel I check out and the manager asks, "Are you with the park people?"
"I am," I say wondering if it was my University of Georgia shirt that gave me away.
"You are horrible for business," he snaps.
I stop signing stuff and look at him. He is intensely staring at me.
"You're no vacancy sign is on," I say returning to signing my bill. "We must not be too horrible."
His daughter is beside him. She is maybe ten, blond hair, Sponge Bob shirt, and one of the front teeth missing. He sends her away with the sweetest of smiles and then turns to me with a snarl.
"I took her outside the other day and their was this woman squatting right there," he said pointing, "peeing! In front of my child. Do you want your children to see things like that? Or a dirty old man holding his cock peeing? In front of your children?"
I step back from the counter but continue to look at him. "It is sad that things like that happen anywhere," I finally say, "especially in a country as great as this one."
He looks away for a moment and wipes his hand across his mouth. "Why can't you do it somewhere else?" he finally says sitting back down.
Long seconds of silence pass.
"Hey listen," I say, "we really want the same thing here. You don't want them in the park or living on the beach. We don't either. Nobody want people forced to pee in public. The thing is you want it all handled now and we think it's going to take a while which is awfully sad."
He nodded. "I just worry about my daughter."
"Good Dad's do," I answer.
He stands and shakes my hand.
In the dark of the night I walk to my room and collapse on the bed and fall asleep to dream of bushes that have feet.
