By Mridula Koshy and Michael Creighton, Contributing Columnists
A year and a half ago, our family returned to Portland after
six years living in India. We found many things had improved in our absence.
For example, food carts had become an affordable alternative to fast food. More
significantly, the roads and TriMet were so much more bike friendly than they
were when we left that we decided we didn’t need a car.
But some things were, if anything, worse. Much of this could
be blamed on the economy: Unemployment and foreclosures were up. We also
noticed many more people forced to camp under bridges and in doorways. We found
this last fact most disturbing: How could such a well-run, compassionate — and
still prosperous — city let this happen?
But although we complained about the state of homelessness,
we rarely did anything concrete about it. Maybe that’s because we believed,
without thinking too much, that it was one of those social ills that had no
solution given the current political context in the United States. Maybe it was
because we just didn’t understand how serious, or how deadly, a problem could
be.
On Dec. 16, that changed for us.
We were riding to church on the Going Street bike boulevard,
just west of MLK, when we saw a gentleman sleeping on the sidewalk next to his
shopping carts. We see this every day in Portland. And we had seen him, in
particular, a number of times over the previous couple weeks. We had been
worried enough about his well being to voice the worry to one another. Seeing
him this time, we knew immediately something was clearly not right. We stopped
a nearby police officer, who said he would call for help. The ambulance and
firefighters were there in minutes, but they said our neighbor had died
sometime in the night, probably from exposure to the elements.
The medical examiner said our neighbor had died of natural
causes. We could not fathom these words applied to a man who had died sleeping
outside on a cold, rainy night. But we have since learned our homeless
neighbors die of the same things that kill us all; they just do it much more
often and earlier than those of us with homes. In fact, at every age group,
homeless Americans are three times more likely to die prematurely than the rest
of us, and the lifespan for a homeless person is just 50 years, as compared
with 78 years for the general population in the United States. Common sense
tells us that exposure to the elements may not always kill you outright, but it
is hard on human beings.
Sadly, what we witnessed was not out of the ordinary in
Portland. We know now that 47 of our homeless neighors died on the streets in
2011 — that’s nearly one death each
week, on average.
So what are we called to do? That same morning, we heard
these words in church:
“Whoever has two coats must share with the one who doesn’t
have any, and the person who has food must do the same.”
We know we fail to live up to this teaching every day. But
we don’t have to keep failing. As a family, we decided that we do bear some
responsibility as residents of a city where so many people are forced to sleep
— and sometimes even to die — out in the cold.
We did a few things. We gave some money to Street Roots and
other groups that support those who are homeless. We made a small online
memorial for our neighbor (giveacoat.wordpress.com). And we wrote letters to
some of our city officials asking them to make it a priority to find decent
shelter for all.
In the process, we’ve learned some things, and we have many
more questions. Like why do the shelters in our city turn people out before the
sun rises? How can the city justify its attempts to close a homeless camp that
is working — Right 2 Dream Too — when public shelters are full most nights?
We know this is a difficult problem. But it isn’t one we can
afford to ignore. When our neighbors are sleeping on our streets in the cold, how
can any of us rest easy? When our neighbors are dying on our streets, how can
any of us feel safe?