We received a lovely set of donations from individuals, and our nonprofit, SAVS, was able to shop today for the unsheltered people living on the Joe Rodota Trail. We went after exploring in detail with camp residents what to buy.
It was a strange experience. Mostly, it was what it would’ve been like as a kid being given a thousand dollars and told to empty a toy store in 15 minutes. I wanted to live stream to everyone I know and let them watch me thump tarps into the shopping cart, get people applauding.
But the other emotion that dominated the shopping experience was worry. I’d spoken to many people about what to buy, so although I knew I would miss some important things, most of the items were easy. But how could SAVS distribute things fairly? We were having to say no to so many needs, and make sure we say no to the right ones. We cannot get enough for everyone, so there is a sifting and choosing process with vital donations that isn’t necessarily easy. Don’t give too much to your friends, even if you know they need it, because nepotism sucks sucks sucks. Some tents look awful but they’re fantastic in the rain, others look fantastic and are awful in the rain; so what do you do when someone asks you for a 50 dollar tarp when the one they have looks fine? What side do you start giving away on? It’s all enough to make you want to take two xanex and start tomorrow, after the flood, when you can plan better.
Because we have to focus on a coming major rainstorm, I also worried because I couldn’t buy enough plastic tent covers and tarps without digging into other needs. Happily, Home Depot gave us a 27% discount, and we were able to fulfill roughly half the demand in a quarter-mile highly populated section of the Trail- much better than I though we would. We also were able to work as a team to assess need so that the 25% or so of the camp we were able to cover included many of the particularly needy.
With 3-4 inches of rain expected in a 36 hour period, I expect the Joe Rodota Trail to be a complete mess tomorrow this time. I tried to warn as many people as I could, as bluntly as I could, that they would need to move or their tent would be flooded. There are several hurdles in being this kind of herald in this particular place, without a government worker beside you, clad in something impressively orange. Some can’t understand your words or language, some can’t remember what you said ten minutes later, some are sleeping, some are gone, some “have been through this a hundred times.” Some need to deal with it just before it becomes their throbbing, screaming-siren emergency. The main overall tack is to be pleasant and very blunt, and name deadlines if you have them (which we do.) Thankfully, some were able to instantly understand how those swales they live in will gather to themselves a great deal of that 3-4 inches of rainfall in 36 hours. About ten of the 40 or so worst potential tragedies seemed committed to moving their abode, though it is almost always a large task. That felt like a minor victory.
It angers me to realize that even the most alert and productive people there did not know that Santa Rosa has had advisory flash flood warnings for tomorrow for a day now. Some hopped to it as soon as I told them. Why is it up to SAVs, a random charity group, to pass such vital information on? The city and county are perfectly aware of the weather and the flash flood advisory- why isn’t there someone in their homelessness and/or Parks and/or Police or other public safety entity tasked with preventing a large encampment from suffering a largely unnecessary crisis through lack of basic knowledge? Why didn’t a jeep come through three times today with a bullhorn and attitude and advice? Where is the sump pump crew? This is a potential emergency that could ruin the lives of 100 people or more! People are residing where it is common in the winter to have 12 inches of standing water, sometimes much more than 12 inches of water. Did no one warn of this? If they did, where is the implied mitigants to this coming heartache and disaster? For we are sure it will be a disaster, we just don’t know how universal it will be for the residents.
The heartbreaker for me, the back end of my worry at the store, came when people asked if we could pay for a few 2X4′s or 4X4′s and I had to say no. No, you can’t have ten bucks worth of wood today, which could hoist you above the flood waters. I decided to focus on tarps and other basics. Only one fellow had mentioned wood; I blew him off. Later, as I toured the camp and gave out tarps and plastic, I saw how much good just $100 of wood would’ve been for 10 families, so I’ll try to get some for the morning.
People get confused about investing in safe, healthy tent homes. Think of the power you have in the lives of human beings! To be able to radically transform the lives of suffering people with 5 or 10 dollars worth of wood. That is a super simple point that should be emphasized in our struggle to raise money and consciousness about the plight of the unsheltered. A little money, especially when thought of on a per-head basis (50 dollars, 100 hundred dollars), is a miracle worker for many.
Lots of people, perhaps even most people, though, are annoyed at the very notion of help because it “only encourages them.” These are the rock bottom gang, as in, “Let them hit rock bottom and they’ll do fine or get what they deserve, either of which is fine.” Let’s set this aside for our purposes here as an ironic, useful-only-in-spurts, worthy, but complex point. It’s the reservations about safe homes felt by those who want to help that are interesting. One flavor is, “We can do so much better! Why can’t we buy them things that will make a difference for a long time, that they can keep? Don’t buy tarps or plastic tent cover, which will be nearing uselessness in an average of 3-6 months- don’t buy batteries and tape and non-recyclable handwarmer crap!” The answer to their question is that in addition to basic needs that must be fulfilled (dryness/health), we certainly can buy those noble things that last and count- it just adds up to a lot of money. A nice snow suit, for instance, or a great tent- sure! Right after we ensure health and safety. Asking this question probably means that we’ve never had a disaster happen because we couldn’t afford 20 cent AAA batteries.
Another flavor is, “But they can’t stay where they are, so why would we work hard to make it comfortable for them to stay- doesn’t that only encourage them to dig in?” Sometimes this flavor throws in a budget argument about spending on this disaster place versus a place to come. Anyone can sympathize a little with this outlook while you watch someone build a robust cantilevered bridge/platform on the Joe Rodota Trail, where people shouldn’t be living. But the answer to this question in this particular case, and often, is quite simple: we should do it because making safe, healthy housing means exactly doing a robust platform and a dry, warm comfortable home atop it. If you go back and read this flavor’s question again, try to see that this is the very same question the rock bottom gang is asking, couched more pleasantly.
Another flavor is oh well. This is perhaps the most common. It’s part of liberalism’s unwritten rules that we must volunteer, so liberals need lots of excuses to not volunteer, far more than conservatives do. Here’s a faceful of the ones I hear: There’s a lot of pain in the world, Scott; We’re all doing what we can on all kinds of fronts; we’re facing a strong enemy, and it’s bullshit, just like the rest of everywhere I turn; we aren’t going to make shit for difference today; one day at a time; the need will always be there, and I have pressing personal interests and needs that are just as ethically defensible, just as vital; You have to leave a message with the government to do that, we can’t do that; we don’t have the money to make a difference right now.
The answer to all that is a combination of so what and no you don’t. Almost no one has more important things to do than be out in a village of destitute people, making sure perfectly valid humans don’t lose their health and possessions to a grave flood.
It’s good to have the residents be so much more visible. Most are very social beings, so the volunteer/donor hubbub both energizes and calms them (there are exceptions, but most who aren’t social are spread out further along the Trail.) There were donors and organizations streaming through the village all day and into the evening, out to help in various ways, then back to their homes and hearths. It is heartwarming. As an organizer, it’s a little odd because there were many more private parties than organizations (isn’t that cool?? And weird. Coolweird.) They say things that try to sound at least somewhat like, “I’m probably never coming back, I just had 150 dollars so we made tomales and we’re giving them out.” Most are latinx, typically in families, which makes me grin and want to genuflect like los catolicas in appreciation. It’s inspiring to see their lovely, delighted children handing out food and important whatnot. I watch their backs while they leave and wonder at the lives meandering through here, a mild and steady river of other humans so casually and practically generous, so unafraid and cheerful, despite all the bad press and prejudice and mess and inconvenience.
“Mama likes to give out free pizza every other Sunday at 11.”
“We’re just concerned citizens.”
“Would you like some free marijuana? Lots of people could use a little high right about now!”
“We’re giving away women’s purses.” [Seeing my interest in what they were doing, one of them leaned in and intoned to me, "To women."]
They’re very happy to help, but you can see their reluctance to get involved in the day-to-day of it all. There are emergencies involved, you see- the flat world ends there, it all falls off into dark and horror. It’s easiest to come to the edge of the precipice, drop it in, and go home. I introduce SAVS and, because they are mostly good liberals, I can see them instantly forming mental excuses to not help in any other way from giving out their hot dogs. For many of them, introducing myself is a little like seeing Chucky shuffle their way.
As individuals- especially as at least somewhat saintly individual donors to a tent encampment- we should be generous about the value of their gifts. Only government workers should be made guilty for not helping more. But that can’t change the fact of a dire lack of Sonoma county interest and basic care of their indigent. It doesn’t change that there should be roughly 10 times the people doing what SAVS does on the Trail, addressing basic life services. We’re not particularly community-minded in Sonoma county with the unsleltered yet, despite our riches and leisure time. And we’re not well-informed. Both those things will have to change, and it’s our job to change them.
The residents aren’t confused at all about how to spend money on them. There’s mostly one flavor of resident, and they want a safe, dry, healthy home. Their question is, “Can you help this warmer, dryer, and safer here, or show me somewhere better?”