It was 1335, police talk for 1:30 in the afternoon. I didn’t plan on encountering any policemen today until I saw it. It was the familiar work of design genius: the cart of a homeless man on the street that I’ve seen numerous times but have neglected to ask for the owner’s name. This man, who my friends and I call Mr. M, converted a shopping cart into a dwelling. It was supped out with a tarp as a tent cover, small bed for comfort, the equivalent of saddle bags to contain his daily findings. It was a simple place, but it was his. I’ve always adored his work. He had captured his own sort of dignity and place.
Today I was scooting down the road on my way to run the everyday errands. I was unexpectedly torn in two. No, not from a wreck on my beautiful new scooter, but emotionally from what I was about to witness.
An L.A. front-loader sanitation truck was pulled up to this aforementioned cart. The two men standing aside the cart went to work tearing off all of its appendages, pulling out its innards, and emptying its soul. I felt like I was watching a murder, paralyzed on the outside, screaming on the inside.
Questions were flooding my mind:
Did they even know what they were doing? Did they care about Mr. M? What would happen if he came passing by? Do they realize they are tearing apart and discarding the entire earthly possessions of one man? The hardest question that broke my paralysis was, “What am I going to do?”
I knew I would be forever retelling a story of cowardice and apathy if I kept on my way to the post office. Was it my right to step in? The question came back again…
I parked the scooter and started walking…
At this point I saw a police car pull up. As I was crossing the street, the officer exited the car with intention, calling out to me to leave them alone. I wonder what he thought I was going to do. My emotions flared. For some mysterious reason I was taking this personally. I didn’t know I was showing it, but that cop must have seen it in my gait. I decided to walk over to the police. My assumption was that they were somehow mistaken, so I quickly informed the officer that the large cart was a man’s home. His response: “It’s an abandoned cart.”
“I don’t like this,” I added.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I live right down the street at 917. Can someone come and loot my apartment? It looks abandoned right now too.”
I thought I had him. He went on to explain to me that someone had called in complaining about this cart and that if it’s abandoned they have the right to come and take it.
Now my mind was racing. Frustrated at my virtual handcuffs. Angry at my neighbor for placing their own aesthetic need over the life of a harmless man.
I had a long conversation with Officer Washington. He told me his story of working for the LAPD for 24 years, 22 of which were right here in Hollywood. He was a strong and poised individual. I actually respected him although I didn’t know at the time if we were on the same team. He was doing his job, and yet his actions displayed complete apathy for the rights of my homeless neighbor.
As the trash men were heaving the last of the cart into the front-loader, I couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. M would think when he came back to this spot tonight. Would he wonder if he forgot where he parked his cart, like me at Target? Surely not. His meticulous care of this creative storage unit spoke of his conscientiousness. Would he think that another homeless man had stolen it? Would it even cross his mind that his neighbors had turned on him and the police had authorized his worldly possessions to be relocated to the local landfill?
I left the scene unsure, and very concerned.
CATEGORIES: Ethics, Global Health, Human Rights
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Heartbreaking story, thanks for sharing, Adrian.
That’s humbling. I know a lot of justice takes one intervention or someone speaking up/standing in the gap. I see waves, like you standing in the gap here is creating a tidal wave of justice.
I’m so glad you didn’t leave the situation and continue as if nothing was happening…at least when you see Mr. M you can let him know you were his advocate. If only all of us had your compassion!
Adrian, your story will continue to stick with me. I prayed for Mr. M after hearing it, and pray for him now. There must be something we can do to stand for the rights of the homeless, for people like Mr. M. Dignity, respect, understanding that the homeless have worth. Thank you for sharing your story. It is a compelling story that serves as a reference point for this conversation, this conversation we need to have.
Thanks Adrian. Thanks for making the invisible visible. We have similar issues in Melbourne and see that there are some people that simply aren’t considered to even exist so anything can happen to them. Genuine advocates are those who share the powerlessness as you did.
Wow….what an impacting story of a moment where someone took the time to see the value in everyone, well above their socio-economic status, and chose to at least attempt to right some of the wrongs that occur on a day-to-day basis in our cities. Thanks Adrian for having the courage to stand in the gaps for those that arent there or can’t stand up themselves.
so what happened with Mr. M. Do you see him anymore? Does he have a new cart?
Adrian, I beginning to think that you’re going to be a deputized social worker soon! I particularly like how you spoke with police officers with boldness. Few of us would take such a direct route if any. At most, it would be an indirect way of writing letters or something to local constituencies who maybe interested.
Perhaps this resource will be of use:
http://www.healthycity.org
powerful piece. to stand there powerless as this was happening, your heart screaming for justice. wish we were moved to this in more moments when our angst was stirred. Spent quite a bit of time with the homeless when i was living in baltimore. sharing lunch with them, they each have a story to tell to those who will listen and treat them better than litter. its a whole lot less visible here in suburbia of va. still my heart cries.
How pathetic that you ask for discussion on this post by Mr. Koehler and yet when the comments aren’t filled with accolades for his so-called attempt to do something you delete them. This can only mean that you are more about self-serving, self-promoting comments, than you really are about having a discussion of the problems in this world. Mr. Koehler revealed the apathy of his own heart, but tells us a story so we can feel bad for Mr. M and Mr. Koehler’s so-called inability to help. Maybe Mr. Koehler wrote the post to be freed from his guilt instead of promoting action. Maybe you should add the disclaimer: Flattering comments only!
Michael, I did appreciate many of your comments from your first post. I never thought to “claim the cart”. If the police officer hadn’t ordered me to move across the street that would have been brilliant. If the story would have been longer i could have told you about the numerous times i came back to that scene (just 300 feet from my front door) to see Mr. M again to see how I could help him by informing him what happened and seeing what he needed. I haven’t seen him since.
The reason i wrote the article was to ask the question, “what would you do in this situation?” in my human imperfection and stun of the moment i did feel paralyzed. i don’t need flattery, but do want to create dialogue for a more compassionate society. your first post didn’t note what you would have done, just what i did wrong. your judgement and anger are noted.