Tag Archives: homelessness

Moved To Tears By Girl In Pompeii

by Woody

“We do not take a trip,” John Steinbeck wrote in his 1962 gem, Travels with Charley: In Search of America, “a trip take us.”

In 2022, in search of the Pompeii ruins in Italy during my Travels with Lisa, our 40th wedding anniversary trip took us to tears.

To learn that an estimated 2,000 inhabitants of this ancient city died in less than 15 minutes after Mount Vesuvius, less than 15 miles away, erupted two millennia ago is overwhelming. Indeed, imagining the horror of noon on August 11, 79 A.D. brings to mind the nightmare morning of September 11, 2001.

Strolling the cobblestone streets and alleyways, ducking into living quarters and brothels, seeing the basilica and amphitheatre and the massive main city square with a colossal statue of a centaur warrior, all brought on a sense of wonder.

A narrow alleyway in the ancient ruins of Pompeii.

And yet it was a single room, small and simple, that brought on misty eyes. Here, one story represented every story on that calamitous day. Here, in a sarcophagus-like glass box, was a plaster casting of one of the exhumed victims. Here was a 14-year-old girl.

She died lying prone, forehead resting on her right forearm and left hand covering her nose and mouth, as though she were pleasantly sunbathing on a beach while shielding her eyes from the summer sun and face from wind-blown sand. In truth, she was trying to protect herself from the aerial tsunami of falling ash and swirling gasses that suffocated the residents of Pompeii – in the streets, in their homes, in their beds – long before the molten waves of lava arrived.

A steady line of tourists, hushed and solemn in expression, filed past the plaster girl with many snapping photographs as if this were merely an art sculpture imitating life – or, in this case, death.

The following day, 150 miles to the north in Rome, the Pompeiian girl seemed to reappear on the beautiful Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II pedestrian bridge spanning the Tibre River and connecting the historic city centre with the Vatican. Midway across, and also centered widthwise, was a life-sized sculpture. Instead of white plaster, it was cast iron and grey; instead of a girl in her home, it was a homeless man lying in a similar prone position with his forehead pillowed on a forearm. Again, tourists took pause to reflect in thought and take pictures.

The amphitheatre with a stage of white marble.

Shortly past the end of the triple-arched stone bridge, less than a half-mile walk from St. Peter’s Basilica where the poor are daily blessed, was a third figure in a nearly identical pose as the ancient girl of plaster and the man of iron. But this was a real person, a man, in his fifties perhaps, lying on the sidewalk with his head turned to the side as if taking a swimmer’s breath, a raggedy blanket pulled up to his scraggy-bearded chin.

For all the attention given to the sculpture of a homeless man on the nearby landmark bridge; for all the reverence paid to the Pompeiian girl who died in a famous disaster long, long, long ago; the opposite was now the norm. The person still drawing breath seemed to draw only blind eyes, not empathy.

Homelessness is everydayness in most cities worldwide, yet the manner in which passerby’s collectively sidestepped and averted their eyes from a living person whereas they visually embraced a plaster girl and a cast-iron man, this juxtaposition was as silently heartbreaking as a thunderous Vesuvius eruption.

To be continued, more happily, in Rome in two weeks after the kickoff of Woody’s Holiday Ball Drive next week…

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com

 

Column: Homeless Compassion

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

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Homeless Deserve Compassion

It was a recent evening, lovely even by California standards, and after enjoying dinner at an Italian restaurant my daughter and I were walking to a theater. Along the way, predictably, we encountered a homeless man encamped on the sidewalk.

Also, predictably, he was begging for spare change.1-homeless

Predictably, too, my daughter instead offered him a take-out box containing half of a savory dinner, complete with plastic utensils she had thought to ask our waiter to include in anticipation of this scene.

“What is it?” the unkempt and unshaven man asked.

“Pasta and chicken,” my daughter answered, adding: “It’s delicious!”

The man, wearing a knit cap despite the unseasonably warm evening, shook his head like a child who has been offered Brussels sprouts and waved his hands as though shooing away a pigeon. “Nah, I don’t think I’d eat that,” he said dismissively.

As we walked on, slightly stunned at the rejection, my daughter observed: “At least he was honest about it so we can give it to someone who will enjoy it.”

Curmudgeonly, I said: “If it was a Big Mac you know he would have been thrilled.”

Perhaps I was correct, but certainly my daughter was because on the very next block she succeeded in doing what Mother Teresa urged: “If you can’t feed a hundred people, feed just one.”

Truth is there are a hundred, and hundreds more, locally who need to be fed – and clothed and given a warm and dry place to sleep, especially on those nights far harsher than the one recalled above.

So I was dismayed by a Feb. 15 guest column in The Star under the headline: “How to end homelessness? No extra services.” The writer argued that the efforts of local faith leaders and their materialistic solutions to end homelessness will only worsen the problem, not help it.

Among the writer’s contentions is that “the majority of the chronically homeless have substance abuse and/or mental illness issues they simply refuse to deal with responsibly.”

But therein lies the Rubik’s cube: it is no simple matter for anyone struggling with mental illness or substance abuse – even those with the financial means to afford the best help – to deal with these challenges responsibly.

Indeed, to complain, as the commentary did, “If they would just get clean and sober,” is to diminish not only the problem but the individuals, as though mental illness and addiction are a choice.

Compassion, on the other hand, is a choice. Treating the down-and-out with respect, not scorn, is a choice. Offering a helping hand is a choice. Choices we must make.

To be sure, help and services will too often seem in vain. But if there were an easy fix, it would have happened already. I would rather have a citizenry that tries and fails to help the homeless than one that fails to try.

Just this week Pope Francis did something so small to help the poor that it is actually huge: a space off of St. Peter’s Square has been transformed to offer homeless men and women shower facilities daily and free haircuts and shaves every Monday. The biggest offering – a little dignity.

Closer to home, Scott Harris is also trying to help the least among us in a way that often goes overlooked. His local firm, Mustang Marketing, is holding a “Sleeping Bag Drive.” Used bags donated to its office at 3135 Old Conejo Road in Thousand Oaks by March 15 will be dry cleaned before being given out. Better yet, every $25 donation will pay for the purchase of a new sleeping bag. (Information: 805-498-8718)

“When it’s all said and done,” Harris says, “no one should go to bed cold. We can make a difference.”

Nor should anyone go to bed hungry. Walking back to our car after the show, my daughter and I again passed the homeless man who had wrinkled his nose at her pasta and chicken leftovers. He was eating a fast-food hamburger. Happily, someone else had made a small difference more to his liking.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden-&-Me-cover-mock-upCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”

 

Column: Super Bowl “Tin Man”

by Woody

Homeless ‘Tin Man’ has company

 

I think about Willie from time to time, which is saying something when you consider I met him only briefly 22 Januarys past.

 

I do not remember much from that Super Bowl XXVII in Pasadena I covered, but I haven’t forgotten Willie.TinMan

 

In truth, I see Willie still. I see him in town and downtown and at our beaches. I see him in parks and parking lots and lots of other places.

 

Willie was homeless.

 

I have long forgotten any down-and-out pass patterns run by Dallas Cowboys or Buffalo Bills receivers that distant Super Bowl Sunday, but the image of down-and-out Willie remains stored on my mental hard drive.

 

Troy Aikman was the game MVP and thus celebrated the Cowboys’ one-sided victory by going to Disneyland; Willie probably celebrated by going to a soup kitchen. To be sure, a restaurant meal was a Fantasyland for him.

 

I met Willie outside the Rose Bowl stadium a few hours before kickoff when he asked if he could have the soda can I was still drinking from. After I took a final gulp, Willie crushed it with a smooth foot stomp before flipping it into a grocery cart nearly brimming with other flattened cans and empty bottles.

 

We got to talking and I learned Willie’s nickname was “Tin Man.” While it would have been more accurate, L. Frank Baum never wrote about and the band America never sang about “ALUMINUM Man.”

 

Certainly “Tin Man” looked as weathered as a rusty can and walked like his knees could use a few squirts from an oilcan.

 

The Super Bowl is America’s tailgate biggest party, but for Willie it was a workday. The growing litter on the Rose Bowl grounds came into his focus like a field of blooming poppies outside Oz. Indeed, instead of earning the $10 or so he did on a typical day of scavenging, “Tin Man” figured he’d collect a bounty of recyclables worth close to $100.

 

If he had ever been on it, “Tin Man” veered off the Yellow Brick Road years earlier. The cause might have been a lost job or catastrophic medical bills, alcoholism or drug addiction, mental illness or perhaps a combination of the aforementioned – I didn’t ask, he didn’t tell.

 

Just as Willie’s shopping cart was overflowing with empty cans, our world is filled with too many Tin Men and Tin Women, Tin Teens and Tin Children.

 

Even the great Oz would have been powerless in solving homelessness, but that is not preventing Harbor Community Church in midtown Ventura from trying to make a dent. For the past five years its Operation Embrace program’s mission has been to “reach the least of these among us.”

 

Recently, however, the Ventura Planning Commission denied the church the right to run its homeless ministry on account it is in a residential neighborhood. Upon appeal, the Ventura City Council is now weighing in on whether to grant a conditional-use permit.

 

            Few argue the church’s work is less than worthy. Rather, as is so often the case – and often understandable – the contention against is Not In My Back Yard. And fewer people still want the homeless element it in their schoolyard – an elementary school is next-door Harbor. Furthermore, residents in the area claim crime has increased since Harbor began embracing the homeless.

 

            The obvious compromise is to move Operation Embrace. The reality is feeding 4,000 with two fish and five loaves of bread might be less a miracle than finding a new location. NIMBY, after all. Everyplace is someone’s backyard and neighborhood.

 

I don’t know the answer, but have one question: Would an increased police patrol be the healing salve?

 

            I know this: there but for the grace of God any one of us could go, needing a caring (Operation) Embrace.

 

Leaving the press tent after filing that long-ago Super Bowl column, I saw “Tin Man” still toiling. I went back inside and got him a couple hot dogs and a soda.

 

“Thanks, man,” Willie said, his one-tooth-missing smile flashing warmly on a chilly winter night. “You’re all right.”

 

Truth is, it wasn’t much at all but doing nothing is all wrong.

 

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. His new memoir WOODEN & ME is available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com and Amazon.com.

 

Column: Inocente’s Story is Powerful

by Woody

Artistic Perspective of Homelessness

 

             When you see a dandelion, do you see a flower? Or a weed?

 

            Or, perhaps, as happened a couple weeks ago when I was walking along a sidewalk on my way to a movie, you step over a dandelion without seeing it at all.

 

            Dandelions are a lot like the homeless. Perspective is everything.

 

            Along with about 200 others attending “Summer at the Oscars,” a fundraiser held by the nonprofit Ventura County Housing Trust Fund at the historic Camarillo Ranch, my perspective was brought into a sharper focus.

For more artwork by Inocente, visit www.inocenteart.com

For more artwork by Inocente, visit www.inocenteart.com

 

            My vision, however, was briefly blurry. Watery eyes will do that. Watching “Inocente” will do that.

 

            “Inocente,” which earlier this year won the Oscar for Best Documentary Short, is the best film of any length and genre I have seen in years. It is “Rocky,” only grittier; “Cinderella,” only more magical. It is 39 minutes of hard-to-watch reality with a happy ending.

 

Inocente Izucar, the teenage subject of the film, had a physically abusive father who beat her with extension cords. After escaping his torment, Inocente and her mother and three younger brothers lived a nomadic existence on the streets of San Diego. They slept in homeless shelters and crowded motel rooms. This was on good nights.

 

 “I don’t think children should have to wake up in the park,” Inocente says, knowingly, in the film.

 

The truth is, too many children do wake up in parks. And in shelters. According to the National Center on Family Homelessness, 1 in 45 children will experience homelessness during their lives. That is nearly one child per classroom.

 

This includes 4,000 kids locally, according to the Ventura County Office of Education. You might never guess which children; Inocente says she was able to keep her hardship a secret from schoolmates.

 

More perspective: 3.5 million people experience homelessness in the U.S. annually and more than 1.6 million of them are children. In California the figure for homeless kids is 226,000.

 

By any measure it is a huge problem. Countless people and agencies are fighting the good fight, including the Ventura County Housing Trust Fund. But all of our combined efforts need to be redoubled. And redoubled again.

 

Different things can unlock a brighter future for a homeless person: food and shelter, of course, but also counseling; clean clothes for a job interview; access to showers in order to keep a job.

 

For Inocente, the magic wand had horsehair bristles: a paintbrush. At age 12 she enrolled in an after-school program for disadvantaged kids called ARTS: A Reason To Survive.

 

For Inocente, art was a way to thrive.

 

Given her grim background, one might expect her paintings to be dark and foreboding. Rather, they are the opposite – happy and uplifting; hearts and bunnies; vibrant reds and sunshine yellows and brilliant blues.

 

Inocente’s obvious talent was one of the reasons she was selected as the subject for the documentary. Her first big art show, which she earned on merit, is part of the film’s storyline. Thanks to the spotlight of the Oscars, her career has taken off. She has had loftier art shows, including in New York City. Prints of her work typically run $200 with some reaching $1,000. A small original piece she donated to “Summer at the Oscars” sold for $2,000 and was likely a steal.

 

After growing up in a nightmare, 19-year-old Inocente is living her dream as an artist. Her dream of living in her own apartment is also a reality. Like her work on canvas, in person she radiates brightness. She gives you a new perspective of what a homeless person is – and can be.

 

Asked how the rest of us can best help the homeless, besides making donations to worthy causes, Inocente’s answer is simple: “Show them you believe in them.”

 

Taking the same sidewalk back to my car after the screening, the dandelion did not go unnoticed under my foot. This time I saw its yellow bloom and green stalk poking up through a crack. What strength to survive its cement hardship. And what beauty.

 

Indeed, it was not a weed. It was a sunflower by van Gogh. No, by Inocente.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for the Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com or through his website www.WoodyWoodburn.com.