Because I'm very happy on this hilltop outside Sedona, Az.
Looking south, I see the fascinating/ghost town of Jerome perched on the side of Mingus Mountain.
And almost every day I have visitors from the sky.
Sometimes they land only yards from my camp.
And here, I am in easy reach of friends who drop by. This is Joseph Smyth, an important architect whose imaginative design work you may have seen in the childrens hospital of Washington, DC.
I am so thankful for my friends--That's Kat on the left and her visiting sister Bronwen.
who come this day bringing dinner.
So I leave my cozy campsite and go down toward Phoenix, spending the night here at a side road north of town.
Then settle in here in the parking lot of the American Legion next to this law office.
The prices alone should tell you the kind of neighborhood I'm in. I'm within a fenced area so I'm secure enough.
A walk around the block shows I'm living near the homeless. This carefully constructed "den".....
Parked near me is this fellow RVer , bold enough to live on the street.
On the back of his rig is this bit of profundity: "You are the universe experiencing itself" --which I regard as truth. I wanted to ask him: and therefore---what?
Here's an interesting work of art right behind me. A Jackson Pollock piece?
And nearby is this patriotic work of art.
And down the block this noble Indian.
And this classic work on a flower pot.
Here's an appealing coffee shop/ tattoo parlor
next door to a philosophy shop. I meant to come experience this place but didn't get around to it--
because I had to take care of this little hospital chore--a colonoscopy.
Meet one of my oldest travel friends---Brenda Harris---who drove across town to shephard me through the process. Some years ago, Brenda took a week out of her life to teach me how to operate a computer. There are two poems about her in my book.
Meet one of my oldest travel friends---Brenda Harris---who drove across town to shephard me through the process. Some years ago, Brenda took a week out of her life to teach me how to operate a computer. There are two poems about her in my book.
Next day--while walking the mean streets , I came across this lump of stuff on the sidewalk,
laid back a flap and discovered a body--it was totally unresponsive to voice or touch. Eventually I saw that it was breathing. I have a friend who'se an expert in these matters, so I called him for advice on what I should do. His very surprising answer was: NOTHING. "As tempting as it is to rescue or get cops involved, or even buy him a meal---ANYTHING you do to ease his situation is ENABLEMENT and you become part of his problem."
I returned later in the afternoon--and he was still totally unresponsive. I took my friend's advice and did nothing. The story of the good samaritan crossed my mind---can it possibly be that alcoholics are a special class of (self?) victimized people that (when the whole picture is considered) should be left alone to die on the street.
That may be my best option but I believe society has a better option: If I had my way, we would gently, humanely, educationally restrain him in some lovely place ---for years if necessary--until we could be aabsolutely sure he was over his alcohol addiction. (how could you ever be sure?--easy--put small amounts of alcohol within easy reach. When he could resist for months on end--we could release him)
RANDY PHILOSOPHIZES: I'm not done with the streets of Phoenix---I want to show you the glitzy side of things in my next post.
That may be my best option but I believe society has a better option: If I had my way, we would gently, humanely, educationally restrain him in some lovely place ---for years if necessary--until we could be aabsolutely sure he was over his alcohol addiction. (how could you ever be sure?--easy--put small amounts of alcohol within easy reach. When he could resist for months on end--we could release him)
RANDY PHILOSOPHIZES: I'm not done with the streets of Phoenix---I want to show you the glitzy side of things in my next post.
6 comments:
Who and what we are is not always a good fit for this world. Sometimes we have to change ourselves, sometimes we simply need to change the world.
I could not just walk past that person. Perhaps he was sick, perhaps injured, perhaps dying.
Call the police. They will then refer the guy to the appropriate social service agency, hospital, etc.
Perhaps some have created their own difficulties, but does that excuse us from offering a helping hand?
Ed
EVtinker: That's the most profound wisdom I've heard all year--thanks for sharing it.
My friend Wayne Wirs seems to be a classic example of needing to change the world. I thank humanity's lucky stars for those people who have changed the world for us.
Ed:
the guy was drunk--I could smell it--even so I was inclined to help---I feel a tad guilty for
walking away.
When I'm inclined to contact the policia for *any* reason these days, I borrow a phone at a place of business and I do it anonymously. Then the burden is on THEM to do the job they profess to do which is "to protect and to serve" though they curiously forget to add the truth which is "rich people and businesses". I'm not qualified to know if somebody laying on the street actually "needs" help or not so I leave it up to the supposed professionals. Though I will be motivated to take a picture (which gives me a date *and* a time) of the situation in case those who profess to serve fail to respond in a timely fashion . . . one could even park a safe distance away and SEE how long it takes the goons with guns to do their job :)
Too many "unredeemable alcoholics" die in drunk tanks for no other reason than that they are also diabetic. Their blood sugar has crashed too low and they will remain unconscious until they die if emergency glucose is not administered in time. If someone like that died and I had a chance to do something and I didn't? I couldn't live with myself -- damned "enabling" or not.
I have a good friend in the hospital right now who was admitted because of liver and kidney failure. His skin color is egg yolk. He isn't poor or homeless (yet). He is in physical and emotional pain due to multiple surgeries to fuse the spine. He was a Ranger officer with hundreds of jumps. Recent job loss, divorce, court cases. Someone saw him trying but unable to start his car and called 911.
At first he was glad to see me when I visited. But the only thing he wants from me is to get him out of that hospital. He doesn't want rehab or treatment, and I'm not even sure that's even on the table because he was admitted for palliative care. The doctors told him that if he has another drink, he is a dead man.
Our health care system is not designed for those who don't want or refuse help. He has friends and family, but I can only see a dark path ahead. It's human to want to help. It's part of the sickness and pain to refuse help.
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