I Should Be Distraught

I should be distraught

It was Thursday, November 10th. The weather had not started to turn cold quite yet, but the forecast was looking very cold for the weekend. “Winter is about to arrive!” the weather man exclaimed. My plan was to give out as many blankets as I could carry along with the regular food, bottled water, socks, etc. For me, it was just going to be another night of food delivery and meeting with friends and neighbors affected by homelessness and trying to survive the perils of street life. I mean, it’s normal for me. I have been doing this for over ten years and I have seen some stuff. Occasionally, after these delivery rides, I have to take a step back and reflect. Because, I am afraid that I’m becoming calloused. I see it so much that, unfortunately, it has become routine. But, this night made me think twice. On the surface, it was just another night. But, after I took some time to reflect on this, I thought, “Did that really just happen? What the hell?”

Three isolated incidents took place on this night, all in the same night, all within about six blocks of downtown Nashville.

1)    I turned into a dark alleyway beside a large parking lot. It’s a regular stopping point on this side of town. I was less than 10 minutes into the ride. There was a car parked in front of a loading dock and laying directly in front of the car, nearly touching the front bumper, was a lady, passed out. She was older, probably in her late sixties. Her skin was wrinkled and like leather. Her flannel shirt was half-way rolled up and her protruding belly was touching the ground. I knew she was homeless because one, she looked familiar. Two, her clothes were dirty. And three, she had a bag with her that appeared to contain all of her belongings. She was laying in an uncomfortable position. Actually, and I do have to do this often, I had to look for inhale/exhale movements to be certain she was alive. When affirmed, I spoke to her in a soft voice until she came to. When she opened her eyes, I asked if I could give her some food and blankets. She mumbled something repeatedly until it started making since. She was saying, “I am so messed up.” I assumed that it was alcohol and/or drugs. And, it most likely was. But, there was something else. I told her that I had blankets for her and I wanted to help her move to the loading dock rather than on the gravel lot, on the ground, in the front of the car. Finally, I got her up and helped her up the steps to the covered portion of the dock. She was staggering all over the place. Then I noticed, she had a large cut on the back of her head. It was not actively bleeding. It appeared that her long white hair clotted up the wound. Was it the cause of her passed out? Maybe. Was it a result of her being unconscious on the ground? Maybe. Was she sober, attacked by someone, and that’s why she was messed up? Maybe. I told her that she was bleeding and I could call an ambulance. She quickly responded with a definitive, “No!” She continued, “Just leave me some blankets and leave me alone, I am fine.”

I struggled to not call an ambulance. But, I knew that if I did, she would lose everything in her possession. Her bags would be discarded in a dumpster somewhere and that is all she had to her name. I have seen this happen countless times. So, I didn’t call for help. I don’t know if I did the right thing. Maybe I should have called an ambulance. I don’t know. But, I wrapped her up in a few blankets, and carried on.

2)    There is a park downtown that connects to a large amphitheater. There’s an open grassy area, a dog park, several, picnic tables and chairs, and a recreation area. A lot of homeless people will sleep on the benches on the back side of the park. We always ride back there and typically serve a lot of food. On this night there were several in this area. But, there was one guy laying on a concrete ledge that I almost missed. Another volunteer, Dave, pointed him out to us. He didn’t have on shoes, just a long-sleeve flannel plaid shirt, and some pajama pants. We offered food and blankets and he accepted. He asked that we place them on the concrete ledge beside him. He never moved as we fulfilled his request. We said goodbye and carried on. Now, there’s more to this story. I served this man just three days before this. On Monday, he was laying on the grass in the middle of the same park, same plaid shirt, but he wasn’t wearing the pajama pants. Actually, he was wearing no pants or underwear, butt cheeks for world to see. He was lying face down in the grass. The idea of him being dead crossed my mind. I asked him if he wanted some food and a blanket and thankfully he responded. He accepted the food and blanket, but I didn’t care whether he did or not. I was going to cover his ass up with a fleece blanket (no pun intended). I gave him the blanket, food, and a pair of boxer-briefs. I hope it helped.

3)    The third incident was a little bizarre. It might not seem to be bizarre to anyone else but, for me, it was odd. First let me state, we serve drug dealers and drug addicts. That’s part of this job, it’s part of the ministry. I have served numerous people that were holding a crack pipe or a syringe in one hand and receiving a burrito with the other. With that said, there are places that we go that many of these folks congregate. We don’t feel threatened or fearful when we visit these places because we are always welcomed. Most of the people are eagerly waiting for us to get there.  

On this particular night, we went under a bridge where we normally serve a small group of drug dealers, users, and addicts. Though, we are accustomed to serving these people, and they are very receptive to us, this is not a place the average tourist would want to find themselves. Here is another way to put it, and I don’t mean to sound sexist in any way, but if I were an attractive female, wearing what many females wear when they visit downtown Nashville, I would certainly avoid this location. If for nothing else, I would avoid it to simply prevent harassment. Well, as I stood, straddling my bike handing out some food and blankets, from a distance I see a lovely lady walking toward us. She appeared to be in her late 30s early 40s. She had long beautiful blond hair, purse across her shoulder, and walking toward us not paying any attention to the people under the bridge but looking directly at us. She was dressed as if she just got off work at a law firm, very business-like. Interesting enough, the people under the bridge paid no attention to her. As I gave out some more supplies to the people around me, she came up to me as if she knew me and as if I should know her. I asked, “Hey, how’s it going?” She responded, “Oh, I am good. I just need some burritos, a water, and a couple of blankets if you got’em. Oh and, do you have any of those packs of hot sauce?” I said, “Ummm, yeah, sure, here… Need anything else?” “No, that’s it. Thanks.” She replied as she slowly walked away in her high-heels. The lesson here is this, just because someone doesn’t look homeless, poor, hungry, etc. doesn’t mean they aren’t. I have always known this and preached it. But, this was just a strange reminder.

It was one of those nights that I just had to take a step back and reflect. “Did that just happen?” I thought to myself. Yes, it did. Holy smokes, I should be distraught! I should be flustered, disturbed, troubled! But, this is the stuff we see. This is just a reminder that there is a significant misbalance in society, in America. Is there a solution? I don’t know, maybe? But, I know this, most people don’t want to care. Most people don’t want to see the person behind the situation. Their judgements are clouded by what they see on the surface. They don’t see or want to see the life that person has lived, that has led them to that place, that thought, that path. They only see their life as the only template and if they can be successful, then why can’t everybody else? Perhaps, it’s because trauma changes the course of everything. Traumatic life events are like wrenches thrown in the fan or bridges being destroyed. It changes the course of life. And, if it hasn’t happened to you, you’re not going to understand. If there is a solution, I think it starts with solidarity, understanding, sharing, and making sacrifices in our blessed lives so that those who need love can experience it.

I hate seeing the things that I see on the streets. Honestly, I am distraught. But, we will keep doing what we do, confidently praying for a change.