They may not have hopes and dreams, but they do have trials and tribulations. There are arguments, debates, frustrations, jealousy, yelling, and crying. There are attachments, relationships, and concern for others. There is a pecking order and one-upmanship. Be assured, that although this is the world of the homeless – disenchanted and disenfranchised – in many ways, it is no different than any other world.
It was gray, rainy, and cold. Much too cold to be swimming outdoors. As I walked through Washington Square Park, a homeless woman was determined to go in the fountain pool. Her friend was not gaining any ground trying to dissuade her.
She screamed over and over that she wanted to go into the water as he tried to talk to her and restrain her. She sat on the fountain’s interior steps and descended one at a time. She was severely drugged and unstable but strong enough to resist her friend’s efforts at keeping her out of the water. At one juncture, he looked at me and threw his hands in the air in frustration. I said to him that it was too cold and she may likely get sick. He responded by telling me he had told her just that, but he had given up. In a world where no one cares whether she lives or dies, what is she to do? Make a scene and try to capture the attention of any willing to watch and listen.
Yes, this predicament – the drugs, her friends, her dead end life – are all her own doing. It would be unfair to say that she is down on her luck – better said, she is just down on her butt. But no matter, because at that moment in time, her pain and frustration was just as real as yours or mine. The three of us were alone in the rain, with an occasional passerby. No one seemed to care. She is disposable and will likely not live long. We are better off without her, are we not? Out of sight, out of mind. In this type of conflict, which I have seen played out often enough, even if violence erupts, the police will not arrest her – to what end? They would be told to leave and take their misery elsewhere.
She finally reached the bottom, soaked by rain, immersing herself into that cold pool of water. Like an obstinate child having a tantrum, I could see that she was not really happy at all. She had won a hollow victory, making the whole thing even sadder. Here, in a fountain surrounded by one of the world’s most affluent neighborhoods, it is likely that some watched this entire ordeal from apartments averaging 2 million dollars.
Telling this story makes me feel a little worse. I kid no one if I try to pretend that I feel their pain. I have never been so down that I sat soaking wet, crying as I descended into a cold pool of water on a gray rainy day at the end of my rope with no hope. It was The Hollowest of Victories…
Afternote: Later that night, I saw them under the park’s arch, playing out another confrontation, her soaking wet, lying on the grates with her friend trying to reason with her.
More stories of the homeless: Ask Tommy, Looking for an Angel, Usually. Maybe. Probably Not., Caught in the Rain, Any Questions?, Crusties Are People Too? (Part 1 and Part 2), On the Road, Cosmetics, Crustie, Dead to the World, Stephanie, Caravan of Dreams, Extreme Camping, Homeless Art Scene, The Art of Kissing
Again….amazing story. You report about the utter beauty the city holds, as well as the sadness and filth. After all, isn’t that what makes the city what it is? Isn’t that what keeps all us glued to our seats reading your posts? NYC is fascinating in every way. We are all voyeurs in some way or another and you allow us to see and watch the good, the bad and the ugly of NYC. It is, by far, the most amazing city in the world. Thank you for another great post.
Sally,
Thanks so much. I have not seen your commenting until very recently. Did not know if you had stop reading or not.
Brian,
Very sad, but very real. Thank you for reminding me how fortunate I am to have a mind that is mostly put together.
These people to not actively choose to live the way they do. The chemicals in their brains have ganged up to put them in a state that is very difficult to escape from even if they wanted.
And thank you for the wonderful look into my birth city. Please keep it up.
Cheers,
Runner30005
Runner30005
At this point, you are right. They essentially do not drive their own lives and destiny – it is too late. The poor choices, misfortune and bad company that led them where they are today, are things of the past. America is the land of the second chance, the comeback kid, opportunity and hope. But for them, I do believe the train has left the station.
Brian, this story was heart breaking and as I have said before we are so far removed here in the middle of nowhere that we tend to forget people like her. She is someones daughter and possibly mother and she is hurting. Thanks for sharing you candid look into reality.
Cheri,
It was very painful. And really, there is nothing much that can be done. I have spoken with people like her and seen them daily. This is a road best not traveled.
She looks pregnant.
Brian, I would never top reading! Just stopped commenting, didn’t want to be annoying! 🙂
Sorrow–is written on her face-perhaps she is remembering a happier past–or contemplating an even darker future–lost possibilities–Great story-reminds me of your post about Morgan..
This woman had her face bashed in tonight – blood all over the ground – by one of her crustie women colleagues. (Morgan wasn’t the one.)
Oh my gosh Mary P. that’s terrible! I wonder if she’s ok.
Same thing happened again tonight. She was smashed in the face again by the same woman. She was taken away in an ambulance, again. I can’t imagine how long this will go on.
Mary P. – any news on this girl lately?
Sally – the last I heard, she was smashed in the face and taken away in an ambulance. Very sad.
She hasn’t been back, nor have I seen most of their group. Many of them have moved on for the moment. I heard the police were looking for the one who hit her. There’s not too much we can do.