Page 2
March 26, 1990
The Clarion
Commentary
BC to DC: Waking up in Washington..
by Lin Redmond
Clarion Assistant Editor
"So this is Washington, D.C.," I
thought, as we carried our luggage from
^e train station. Surprisingly ordinary
looking for such an important city, it
was a world of contrasts: powerful and
powerless, rich and poor, and there we
were, 10 college students from the
mountains staying in a youth hostel on
the border bel ihe^hetto and the
"nice part of town." We weren't^eeirig
the contrasts - we were part of the
contrasts.
Most of the homeless were black.
Most of our group were white. I did not
anticipate that. So how to bridge the
gaps, racial and otherwise, between a
group of well-fed students and those
hungry who "live" on the streets? With
visions of what we could accomplish,
we set out to discover what it must feel
like to be homeless and what could be
done.
If you had asked us what we most
craved before we left, I daresay the
unanimous reply would have been an
enthusiastic and resounding "CHAN
GE!" That desire remains. Yet, our tone
has changed. What we naively thought
we could grasp and alter in nine days
turned out to be a monster problem of
such complexity and proportion we
could scarcely grab ahold of its tail.
How do you grab a monster you
can't see? Sure, its victims are in plain,
undignified daylight before our eyes, but
the monster has no face. What causes
the problem? How can the financial and
political aspects be understood, much
less straightened out? Look at the word;
homelessness. It's not even a thing; it's
a lack of a thing. Cancer, drugs, war -
these are all afflictions which at least
afford the comfort of a concrete focal
image.
Our minds sought such comfort. If
only we could put a name on the
monster we would tackle it wholehear
tedly for nine days. Again, the contrasts
came. With our stomachs full of Sybil's
biscuit breakfast, we worked alongside
those fasting at the Community for
Creative Non-Violence to make a
healthful meal from 300 pounds of
rotten spinach and other ^parently un
consumable donated goods. We worked
with children - bright, affectionate
and innocent in spite of their harsh,
crime-ridden environment
Barriers down, we talked with
homeless on the streets. Some were
bitter and blaming and out of control,
like the drunk man who came from
behind demanding of me, "Gimme that
pizza! I'm homeless!" Some were sober
and constructive, like "Bill," who was
young and unable to work because of a
prison record. "I spend the money on
food. I don't drink or do drugs," he said,
continuing, "I'm taking care of myself
as long as I can. I sleep in an old
abandoned building and I keep looking
for a job." Bill plans to get back to
Georgia where prospects are better and
life is kinder.
Some were sweet and understan
ding, like Karen. She sat reminding
passers to notice the’blooming cherry
blossoms. When Jock asked her outright
why she wasn't bitter, she replied, "You
can't be mean to people. That's no way
to be. It's nobody else's fault I'm here."
If comfort was hard for us to come
by, it is unobtainable for the homeless.
But homelessness is not just a lack of
comfort — a room around you, a ceiling
over you. It’s sleep-deprivation,
malnutrition, fear, feeling like society's
garbage. We had each other, the youth
hostel with it’s interesting international
students, good beds and Sybil's cooking.
I believe most people spend their
lives half asleep. We went to
Washington to help, to somehow share
what we have so much of with people
who have fallen through the cracks and
have virtually nothing. What we did was
CLARION
Lihhy Enloe
Ashley Cimino
Associate Editors
Scott Holmes
Sftorts Editor
Sean Frazier
Artist
Lora Woodrum
Editor
Lin Redmond
Poetry Editor
Tina Wiegerink
Laura Clark
Photographers
Jock Laiiterer
Faculty Advisor
W'k
Kuf^ry coo(d.yojf^^
iaofB- chcnr\0g?
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H-e la/es yob.
Poht Worrube
Homeless "Bill," panhandling on Pennsylvania Ave. in D.C., told
BC students he wasn't bitter about his situation. (Clarion photos by
Jock Lauterer)
wake up. We won't gripe about ARA
food anymore - an activity I've
frequently engaged in - or dorm life or
how much we hate to go home. Every
little math test will no longer seem a
major inconvenience.
The marble in Washington is as
beautiful as the cherry blossoms. But
the concrete got really old while we
were there. It's ugly and it's painful to
walk on for hours. Sleeping on it must
not be any treat either. I wouldn't know.
Tonight I'm sleeping in my bed. I keep
having dreams about unbelievable
contrasts. Tomorrow I'm going to the
Transfer Office to find out about
majoring in Public Affairs. I'm going to
find that monster's face.
BC's Libby Enloe helps her new friend, Isthmatu, with math
homework at the inner city after school program.