My daily bicycle commute is giving me a new angle on homelessness in Edmonton. Before this summer, I knew, of course, that homelessness existed; I even saw homeless people from time to time. But my summer commuting route gives me glimpses of the lifestyle that were previously denied.
Two older men I pass each morning. Fellow cyclists, but of quite a different ilk. Clothed in faded, torn jeans and jean jackets, with baseball caps on their heads, they are weighed down with numerous blue recycling bags and black garbage bags and various other plastic bags stuffed with, um, stuff. Presumably there are some bottles and cans they can exchange for cash, but I suspect the remainder consists of their personal treasures. For them, the morning ride is a delicate balancing act. Their destination is a mystery, but somehow, I doubt they are heading to work. Their bedroom seems to be the River Valley; their alarm clock the sunrise. They look serious and earnest, but happy, too. Of course -- they are riding bikes.
A pillow and shopping cart at my Callingwood parking spot. Though I arrive rather early and the parking lot is deserted, someone has clearly preceded me. A pillow is carefully placed next to the treeline and a half-full shopping cart lingers nearby.
More shopping carts. All along the shared sidewalk are shopping carts -- some empty, some overflowing with what would appear to be all the owners' worldly possessions. Most of these carts are unattended, perhaps waiting for the next person who needs them.
Today I had a closer than usual encounter with the phenomenon. As I rounded a bend on the 100 Avenue shared sidewalk, I had to brake sharply to avoid hitting -- what, exactly, I am not sure. But laid out across the trail were articles of clothing, household items, and other bits and pieces of an urban life-on-the-road. I didn't take time to examine the display, but a granite candle holder and some brassware caught my eye -- useful, no doubt, for entertaining. When I hit the brakes, I sort of screamed involuntarily -- I was startled, after all, to find my path blocked in this fashion.
Preparing to weave my way through these obstacles, I heard a voice from the shrubbery, "Sorry about that." Turning my head, I spied two men -- possibly the very ones mentioned above -- sorting through their bags. "I guess we really should move that stuff," he added. Briefly I voiced my agreement, bade them good day and rode on, wishing I'd had the nerve to take a photo of the scene.
And husbands everywhere, take note: even homeless men occasionally engage in a spot of housecleaning!
My students are troubled by homeless people. When asked what they would do if they were Mayor of Edmonton, many of them mentioned doing something about homeless people. This surprised me. Most of them come from countries where homelessness is a greater problem than it is here in Edmonton. But they are disturbed by the fact that in a rich country like Canada, there are people who don't have homes. They are afraid of these people. They are bothered by the fact that they appear in reasonably decent places, such as the Milner library and grocery stores in Chinatown. We discussed some possible solutions. In a couple of countries, I was told, homeless people are rounded up, loaded onto trains or buses and taken out of the city, the theory being that they won't have enough money to get back. Hmmm. Some students said more shelters should be built, enough to accommodate all the people who need a place to live.
If only the answer were that simple. I do know one thing: When I went to San Francisco a few years ago, I saw many homeless people there. It didn't look quite so bad in that climate, and I vowed that if I ever find myself living on the street, I will use my last bit of cash to buy a ticket to a warmer place than Edmonton,
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