Usually, when there’s that next new face that arrives to the streets in some parts of Wheeling, he or she is staring down at their smartphone trying to find “the spot” where they “need to find a friend.” They are frequently frantic when asking for directions, but they never mention names.
And the next time we see the person, they know exactly where they’re going, and they look tired and they appear dirtied and disheveled.
If we see them a third time, we say our prayers for them. Take that for what it’s worth.
Advocates who come to Ground Zero to help the homeless see what we see and it’s a dire decline no one wants to watch. Most folks believe the homeless are homeless because “those people” want to be and that they should realize their wished-for way of life could become their wished-for way to die.
Because active addicts are sooooo busy realizing those kinds of things, right?
Some last longer than others. Some we get to know. Some get out alive, but others are wheeled out, too. Most owe Narcan gratitude for extensions of life, and all of them made a mistake one day they’re paying for today and again tomorrow and the next day.
We see you, too, the nurses and the doctors, the aids and the volunteers, and we witness what you endure. We know you pave paths out of those woods to healthier environments and can only imagine how deeply depressing the perpetual defeat must be.
That’s why we say our prayers for you, too.
We all have our own ways of dealing with the theft that takes place, the litter that is constant, and the panhandling that never stops, and we tire of the street stool, the puddles of piss, and the cleared-yet-contaminated encampments. We’ve called the authorities, arrests have been made, convictions have been handed down, and encampments have been cleared.
But there’s always another campground just like there’s always another new face in need of finding “that friend” in “that spot.”
Sincerely,
Witnesses of an American Tragedy
