In kindergarten we hatched chicks, an experience so profound I can still, stretching back over more than fifty years, remember the thrill of it. In my excitement I decided I would make the little fuzzies a special home, fashioned, as I recall, from those plastic green pint containers meant to hold strawberries. I was not asked to do this, not by any external voice. The idea simply came to me that I needed to make things better for the hatchlings.
I learned so much about my Austin neighbors while volunteering for Mobile Loaves & Fishes. (I stan Alan Graham, kind of amazed at the man, frankly). On my shifts, not necessarily representative of the entire community, there were ALWAYS several memorable categories of persons who genuinely seemed appreciative of a decent brown-bag meal. (Hunger will make everyone grateful for food in the moment.) Not mutually exclusive categories, for sure (intersectionality is real): Runaway "kids" (or foster care age-outs), often surprisingly adept and well-travelled; persons with mental illnesses, obvious and otherwise, some in active treatment, a few even a little frightening; persons clearly suffering from substance abuse disorders; recent immigrants (mostly young men who worked hard outdoors all day and in all weather and shared a roof or camp at night in large groups, they always asked for work clothes, which MLF trucks sometimes also had available). So many different people, so many ways to be without a fixed home within one of the richest societies in human history.
Spike, I like having a mental picture of you taking deep breaths in toleration of the Central Presbys, they are good peeps downtown. "Neighbor" means something to them: to be one is not about mere proximity, but to show mercy. Basic food for hungry peeps is about as basic as mercy gets. And they do what they do not because there is a judgey/abusive grandpa up in the sky, but because they know Love is the only way to survive/thrive right here on Third Rock. (Many atheists I know can make common cause with Jesus of Nazareth on that, no problemo.)
When I lived in Seattle I volunteered for a group called 'Heroes for the Homeless'. Most of our clients lived under Interstate 5. The majority of folks I met were very friendly and appreciative of our services; however, there were those who, ironically, threatened us with violence for trespassing.
I learned so much about my Austin neighbors while volunteering for Mobile Loaves & Fishes. (I stan Alan Graham, kind of amazed at the man, frankly). On my shifts, not necessarily representative of the entire community, there were ALWAYS several memorable categories of persons who genuinely seemed appreciative of a decent brown-bag meal. (Hunger will make everyone grateful for food in the moment.) Not mutually exclusive categories, for sure (intersectionality is real): Runaway "kids" (or foster care age-outs), often surprisingly adept and well-travelled; persons with mental illnesses, obvious and otherwise, some in active treatment, a few even a little frightening; persons clearly suffering from substance abuse disorders; recent immigrants (mostly young men who worked hard outdoors all day and in all weather and shared a roof or camp at night in large groups, they always asked for work clothes, which MLF trucks sometimes also had available). So many different people, so many ways to be without a fixed home within one of the richest societies in human history.
Spike, I like having a mental picture of you taking deep breaths in toleration of the Central Presbys, they are good peeps downtown. "Neighbor" means something to them: to be one is not about mere proximity, but to show mercy. Basic food for hungry peeps is about as basic as mercy gets. And they do what they do not because there is a judgey/abusive grandpa up in the sky, but because they know Love is the only way to survive/thrive right here on Third Rock. (Many atheists I know can make common cause with Jesus of Nazareth on that, no problemo.)
I miss being in Downtown Austin, enjoy!
I don't miss having to drive there. :)
When I lived in Seattle I volunteered for a group called 'Heroes for the Homeless'. Most of our clients lived under Interstate 5. The majority of folks I met were very friendly and appreciative of our services; however, there were those who, ironically, threatened us with violence for trespassing.