Mulvaney: Cutting Aid to the Poor Is Compassionate for Those of Us Who
Pay for Them...
I was digging out variegated hosta for Ernesto when he
showed up the other day to pick up some bundles and the starters of Persian
Shield he so much loved to spark some of the edges of his large garden. I’d happened across a bunch of the Burmese
tropical plant, a serrated leaf with iridescent purple splashes of color
against a verdant green. Good stuff.
I recommend it for its color, not its recent political
history.
Ernesto had just come from south of my home, along Harlem
Avenue at about 143rd Street.
That’s an especially telling corner these days. In the middle of the Forest Preserves of Cook
County, that beautiful collar bequeathed by Daniel Burnham, the intersection
has become the place where each corner is occupied by sign-holding
panhandlers.
Because it is in the depth of the forest preserve, not the
various villages surrounding the place, the only block facing those seeking
handouts here will be the occasional Cook County Sheriff vehicle that pulls
over and shags them away. Other than
that, they’re there each and every day. Each and every hour. And a few moments after the Sheriff squad
pulls away.
Ernesto: It is so wrong to see these people begging along the
corner out there. Especially the Santy
Claus guy with the sign attached to his chest saying he’s homeless.
I totally agree,
Ernesto. I’ve known that man for more
than a decade, and he has become a sorry product of his situation. He’s an outcome of Cook County jail and our
broken system of medical carelessness for one who is suffering mental
illness.
Ernesto: Mental illness?
He seems fine to me. He should be
working instead of begging.
I totally agree again,
my friend. But he cannot. He is off his meds and is not likely to find
an employer who wants to hear someone talking to himself in Biblical verse for
periods of time while he – what? – packs something into boxes? Didn’t you notice he is talking all the time
he is roving between the cars for handouts?
Ernesto: I don’t roll down the windows. But I have heard from friends he has a car.
Yes?
Ernesto: And an
apartment. A place to live, so he may
say homeless on his coat, but he’s not.
You know, Ernesto, as
I work with those who are truly homeless, they – like you – mythologize this
man. Indeed, he does look like Santa
Clause, and he does work the corners of the street in Harlem. The truly homeless tell exaggerated tales of
his climb to greatness and wealth. They imagine
he has an annual income of well over $100,000 per year. They covet his new Infinity SUV. In fact, one woman who gave him some money
one day saw him in an SUV and began chasing him on Facebook, trying to find out
his apartment, etc., and decrying his falsehoods as homeless.
Ernesto: Don’t give me that one please, it’s too big. You should keep it for yourself. But back to Santy. So, you admit, he’s not homeless, my friend. And his car, he parks it in the forest and walks to his corner.
Of course,
Ernesto. That’s easy, and in fact, I’m
proud of him for it. Despite a state
which birthed him out of Cook County’s jail system and offered him no support
and cast him from the queue of needy people with mental illness (thank you,
Governor Rauner), he survives. He even
has a place to stay. He might even have
a white, beater SUV. And how? He works in the rain and the snow and the
heat and the cold on a corner. He wraps
his feet in strips of cloth and walks on the muddy street’s edge and between
the traffic to achieve a dollar or even more. Maybe many more.
Ernesto: So you admit this homelessness is a total scam.
Scam? But, Ernesto, my
friend, he cannot work. Do you
understand? He is incapable of work
because he hasn’t the support system for on with a mental illness to do so. He
works alone. He panhandles.
Ernesto: But he’s not homeless. He chooses not to work.
Yes, for the moment
he’s not. But he’s always on the
verge. And he’s up every morning at 5
a.m. to get to the corner so others who are trying to do the same thing and
encumbered with the same problems cannot push him out. And believe me, Ernesto, they will. He’s surviving, and he’s working as only he
is able. Isn’t that enough?
Ernesto: You know that some of these people actually have
whole families out there. They park
their cars and send everyone – the kids and wife – to separate corners to get
as much money as they can.
I would imagine you’re
right, Ernesto. Do you believe that is a
scam too? Are all the poor a scam unless they draw a check?
Ernesto: Of
course. They could have jobs. If they wanted.
It’s good we have
these talks, Ernesto. They open both our eyes.
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