forty eight

Every year I attend a funeral for the homeless who've died on the streets in our county. Every year the names are compiled of those who've died and it allows their friends, family if any, and the community to witness their passing and offer them some small grace.

This year I knew several of the forty eight folks who died, one whom I've paid tribute to already, and others who I knew less well, but mourn them just the same. Like the woman whose body was found on the conveyor belt of our local refuse plant, where she'd landed after her body had been carelessly tossed into a dumpster and unwittingly delivered, or the woman who died in the streets and left her husband alone, to weep today at what will be the only official tribute to her life. The morgue is full of unclaimed bodies, for even those who'd like to cannot afford to bury them, and so they sit.

It's always bittersweet because while I appreciate the acknowledgement of those we've lost, I can't help but wonder what this winter will hold in store for others. The nights are getting colder, the first rain is already upon us, and the medical system cannot keep the ones without insurance unless their condition absolutely mandates it, so the sick and dying are left to wander.

And then I wonder what it's going to really take to force our local and national governments to sit up and take notice. The horror of Katrina and it's aftermath certainly didn't - I was involved in resettlement for about 200 refugees that were displaced and sent across the country on greyhound buses so I got to see the bureaucracy that folks had to suffer through, and how it took a very long time and a lot of bullshit to get folks rehoused. And that was just a small piece of the total that were rendered (and still are) homeless.

I wonder how many more names I will hear read while we continue to fail those who need it the most because it is unsavory economically to do something about it.

Rest in peace.