I run hot & cold with the homeless. One minute I’m feeling sorry for their plight, and the next I’m disgusted or annoyed. I realize their are many hard luck stories worthy of empathy, but in too many cases I just think they like the lifestyle.  As the rest of us have gone into hiding, they’ve flourished, becoming what I see as “the untouchables.” They’ve taken the doorsteps of closed businesses and seem unaffected by the virus. No one gets near them anymore, as the downtown camps continue to grow. There is no longer police presence, clean-up attempts, or any efforts to disrupt their near permanent settlements. I’m expecting to see mailboxes, soon. 

While they huddle together, we spread apart. In one way, I admire their ability to survive. I could never live as they do. Their food and spare change providers of the past do not go near them any more. They are kept at distances even greater than current six-foot social standards. To make matters worse, they aren’t wearing masks when this is their opportunity to hide from any shame. Instead, they want us to see their faces. They’re also not washing their hands every hour as we do. Maybe even the virus wants to stay away?

Some taunt me as I run by every morning. A majority of this is sadly mental illness; people who need our help. While I’m on the move, no one ever asks for money. They also aren’t finding as much leftover food because everything now is strictly to-go. Yet, they’re still a major presence in our community and perhaps a health threat. I try to help out in other ways by supporting local missions, but too many of the homeless are wary of their programs. They want help…but then again they don’t. It’s frustrating…and real….and help runs hot and cold!