Sheet Storm

No pun intended. The San Diego Union Tribune described the storm that is pummeling us as “sheets of wind and rain.” But don’t cry for us, Argentina...or anywhere else. We’ve been crying rivers of tears over the California drought for years now. A more religious interpretation of our recent onslaught of winter storms might be that our prayers have been answered. Surely you can’t deny the rosy outlook in this Union Trib headline: (Would that the Mogadishu Union Tribune greet the end of the Somali drought with such a headline.)I don’t mean to rain on our rain, but as I tossed and turned last night to the sound of those sheets buffeting our large, well-built, two-story home, I couldn’t help but think of the people living in the makeshift tents in the lowlands lining the bike path I ride from our gorgeous home to the beautiful Pacific most every day. The density of their sporadically spaced tent cities has fluctuated over the time I’ve been cruising on by. Sometimes they disappear all together. That’s when the local authorities come through in white pick-up trucks and orange vested crews to evict them and clean up after them. The disappearance doesn’t last long…in two or three weeks they’re back, doing their best to hide their hovels in the bush. What’s been most remarkable to me is that when I last rode by two days before the storm, their presence had expanded significantly. What made this shocking is that the last big rain just a week or so ago left many of them surrounded by water or completely washed away. The news of this current storm was certainly no surprise even if you don’t have access to Internet or cable TV…it’s been building for days. Which would lead one…like me…to assume these folks would be seeking out more formidable shelter. But when I awoke this Valentine’s Day morn, my heart drove me to do some research on what alternatives might be available to these folks. What I learned is that there are an estimated 15,000 homeless people in our area…and not nearly enough beds to accommodate them all. Long wait lists are typical. Most of the shelters are dedicated to families, which has become a more recent and urgent crisis. The people I see heading into the tents along the bike path mostly travel as singles or couples, ranging in age from mid 20s to late 30s…though the wear of the lifestyle makes them look older. The all too common reaction to their plight, I assume, is why don’t they get jobs? Without doing a full journalistic investigation here or sociological study, I’ll venture a few possible answers to the question:They have drug addictionsThey face mental or physical obstaclesThey’ve been thrown out of home due to conflict with a spouse, parent or other relativeThey have jobs but still can’t afford a proper shelter in one of the most expensive places to live They are modern day Thoreaus…philosophically committed to a simple, austere life They are itinerants on their way to their next destinationThey are indeed lazy and shiftless and expect…what? Mother Nature to take care of them.If it’s the latter, then Mother Nature should be reported to child and family services after what she put them through last night. I couldn’t sleep thinking about it…which was the extent of my suffering for them. Although at the darkest, wettest, windiest hour last night, my inner Jesus got a grip on me, and I imagined taking my Rav 4 out to those lowlands, loading the homeless into it, and bringing them home to put up in our garage until the deluge passed. It was a preposterous raising-the-dead level idea. The sheer impossibility of it brought on an enormous sense of inadequacy as I confronted the sorry options for my liberal impulses. I could donate to a homeless shelter, I could go work in a homeless shelter...I could write a blog post! I could vote. I could vote for caring and responsible leadership and against corrupt and bigoted leadership. But I already did that…I voted against Duncan Hunter Jr. who won his most recent election while under indictment for campaign finance violations and by smearing his opponent, a Christian, as an Islamist with ties to terrorists.   The Atlantic just ran an article on how individuals’ reactions to disgust may be telling in determining whether their politics are liberal or conservative. This congressional district of ours has long been a conservative stronghold (previously represented by Hunter’s father). Many ex-military from Camp Pendleton settle here after their service. Given their voting habits and attitudes in general, I daresay that most of Duncan Hunter’s supporters would look upon the squalor along the bike path with open disgust and respond with military gusto to bulldoze them all the hell out of there.I reserve my disgust for a society that consistently fails the least among us while constantly feathering the beds of the richest and most privileged. 

The Sheet Storm, filmed from the safety and comfort of our home...

For readers in North County San Diego, here are the results of my morning research. For readers elsewhere, I encourage you to do a Google search of your own and act accordingly.https://www.friendsoflaposada.org/why-we-help/http://solutionsforchange.org/https://www.kpbs.org/news/2013/mar/07/two-new-homeless-shelters-operating-north-county/https://www.homelessshelterdirectory.org/cgi-bin/id/city.cgi?city=Vista&state=CA