The Clean, Lonely Place

It happened in broad daylight. I saw (3) Sheriff SUVS pulled up by her makeshift "home" with their red and blue lights flashing and I knew it was over. The lady who had made the bus stop at the corner of Kanan and Heathercliff her world was living on borrowed time. Her time was up. Where does she go from here? Where do we go from here?

I agree with those who say it is not sustainable, nor is it a good precedence for a person to be able to adopt a public space (a bus stop bench in this case) and turn it into their own private Idaho. I don't think many would disagree. Still, something was unsettling when I came back the next day and saw the space completely empty, without a trace that anyone had been taking refuge in that space 24 hours a day for weeks. It was her entire universe. It was all she asked for; a spot on the curb of life. She was willing to live and sleep on a bench, exposed to the sun (until a kind hearted couple assembled a tent to shade her) and with deafening car traffic and car exhaust her constant, and only, companion. Still, she was asking too much. In a place where no one else wanted to be, let alone live, she was evicted. She must have gathered up all of her books (there were many) and her humble belongings placed in plastic bags. She wasn't asking very much from life but it was still too much for the city of Malibu. I get it! I understand. Maybe she should feel lucky that she was able to stay as long as she did.

We were all forced to confront homelessness and, perhaps, the effects of some mental and physical incapacity for awhile. We saw it every time we passed by. We knew her; well, not that many of us spoke to her but she was in our community. I stopped one day and spoke with her for over half an hour. She had much more to say than I expected. She recounted much of her life. I would often drive by and see her holding a book and sometimes staring out into the distance. I wondered what she might be thinking about. She had just as much right to inhabit this small planet as I did.

There are no winners here; at least I don't think so. I think the discomfort is in not knowing what has happened. Yes, she is gone and no longer a visible homeless person with messy bags all around but what has become of her. Should we know? Should we care?

I don't think it would have been asking too much for someone in a position of authority to leave a sign or a note at that location letting people (those who want to know) what has happened to this lady. Where is she? Is she in a jail cell? a mental hospital? a ditch somewhere? The morgue? She was someone's daughter. She is someone's mother.

I'm not a Christian but I greatly admire the life of Jesus as depicted in the New Testament. Fact or Fiction Jesus is an amazing example to us all. I thought, what if Jesus decided to come down to the earth and live disguised as this lady on this bus bench for the sole purpose of seeing how people would receive her. What if he wanted to see if his teachings and his life (and sacrifice) had any lasting value or if it was all ceremony, pomp, and circumstance. I haven't read the whole thing but I think Jesus was known to have washed the feet of the impoverished.

I'm reminded of a 1970's song by the late Jim Croce called "I've got a name". Imagine...there was once a day when she was the center of attention. She was born on a day and celebrated. She came into this world with fanfare...she was brought home and nurtured. She had her first day of school just like you and me. She blew out birthday candles and opened presents from Santa. She surely had friends, and there were hopes and dreams for her life. She never thought it would come to this. In her dreams as a child I am sure that she would rather be the person who is driving by that intersection in a new Range Rover with air conditioning and temperature adjusted seats to her house on the bluff. It didn't work out that way for her. She was living on the curb of life. She is out of our lives now...out of our minds. She had a name.

"Like the pine trees linin' the windin' road
I've got a name, I've got a name
Like the singin' bird and the croakin' toad
I've got a name, I've got a name
And I carry it with me like my daddy did
But I'm living the dream that he kept hid
Movin' me down the highway, rollin' me down the highway
Movin' ahead so life won't pass me by"

*a companion piece to this was written a few weeks ago, before her eviction.