Homeless in Seattle

In 1993 I visited California for the first time, attending the annual gathering of the National Conference of State Legislatures (NCSL) in San Diego. As I unpacked my bags a luxury room at a large, expensive hotel, I was shocked to see homeless people laying down their makeshift bed linens in the beautiful park across the street. I was so sheltered from the reality of poverty in America that it took me several minutes before I realized that these men -- and they were, I think, all male -- were bedding down at 4 PM to get the best spots on the grass, seeking shelter under large trees, in areas protected from sand and wind. I worked the problem around in my head, knowing that homelessness existed in Minnesota, too. But in Minnesota, those who are homeless are invisible for much of the year, evident only to those who know the spots under bridges or in makeshift camps far away from my neighborhood.

Seattle seems so prosperous. The people are cheerful, friendly and full of hope for the future. The homeless are here, though. I saw them yesterday evening, furtively hiding in doorways and in alleys. This morning, they were wandering the streets when I headed out for coffee at about 6:30. Today, a man who reeked of cigarette smoke approached us at a bus stop. I am used to ignoring people who accost me on the street. On some level, I really don't know what to do or how to act. If I have bills in my pocket and can drop a dollar or two in a can, I feel I've gotten off easy. If I have to open my purse or my wallet, I'm usually too cautious to do so and will regretfully and guiltily pass by.

Today was so hot and now the evening is quite chilly. I wonder where the homeless are tonight as we try to find the right temperature (not too hot, not too cold) for our comfy little abode.