It Was A Very Cold Winter
And my whiny little ass knows exactly how fucking cold it was because I worked outdoors for much of it this past season. I endured polar vortexes (two of them!), relentless wind chills, snow squalls, high winds, treacherous ice and freezing rain. There are other aggravations that one has to endure while working outside in extreme weather - items needed to do my job properly often froze or blew away, and places I needed to get to sometimes weren't plowed free of snow or ice.
But let me put all of this into proper perspective; I worked outdoors kinda sorta. I was in and out of the elements. I didn't spend the entire eight hours outside - not even close. And as temperatures dropped to mind-numbing negative double digits, I was permitted to take "warm up" breaks as mandated by law.
I was also properly outfitted by my employer: warm knee length parka, proper footwear. What my employer didn't provide, I was able to provide myself - two pairs of pants, three pairs of socks, earmuffs, gloves, etc.
And though I hated every single moment I had to spend outside in the cold, there was a light at the end of that tunnel called a "paycheck". I'm fairly well paid for what I do, with the added benefits that come from being employed in a unionized environment at a federal workplace.
There was still yet another "perk" I got to enjoy each day come the end of my shift: I got to go home.
"Home" is my humble little one bedroom apartment in a not so ritzy part of this town. I remain there by choice. Rents round here have spiked considerably over the past year. I'm paying about $300.00 less per month than I would be were I to rent a newly vacant unit right now.
And I have....well...stuff. Furniture, electronics, dishes, houseplants. Clothes. (Too many clothes.) I also get to do stuff. Like go for the occasional drink after work with my coworkers. Or on daytrips with my daughter that take me away from this town for a while. Or hell, even a nice meal out, which happens way more than it probably should.
After one such meal out a few months ago, I was harshly struck by the glaring divide between the "haves" and the "have nots" in this town. I'm often reminded (by the cosmos) that I'm actually one of the lucky ones around here.
There I was on my way home from Harvey's, my belly full after a nice feed of burger and fries, when I spotted one of our local homeless people sitting outside the liquor store on a bitterly cold day. I'd seen her in that precise spot several times before, but on this day, she was shivering. The humanity inside me kicked in as I crossed the street, wanting to indulge in an act of kindness. I fished around in my pocket, found a fiver and handed it to her. My hope was that she would use the money to get a hot drink or something to eat. The harmless soul looked up at me with such immense gratitude that I will never forget it. But I mean, really? Five dollars isn't going to make a meaningful difference in this woman's life, is it? Five dollars isn't going to get her into an apartment and out of the cold.
On another occasion, I was on my way to work early in the morning when I encountered an individual sleeping in the controlled lobby entrance of my apartment building. My initial reaction? I recoiled, in fear. Who was this person? Would they do me harm? I had a few moments to get a grip on my base instincts though, and as I got closer, I reminded myself that it was fucking cold outside. The better side of me took over as soon as I saw this person scrambling to get out of my way, scrambling to collect the shabby piece of cardboard he had been sleeping on, a worried look forming on his face. As I came face to face with him, I said, "No, it's alright. It's cold out there. Go back to sleep." He thanked me with relief.
What?
Nobody should have to say thanks for needing temporary shelter from the elements. We're all human here, we all have the same basic needs. He's going to freeze out there - same as you or I would. But there is a fear around here now that didn't really exist twenty years ago. The fear is due to methamphetamine addiction and the the trouble it has wrought on this town. Not all of the homeless people here are meth addicts - but many of them are. They can be violent, delusional and unpredictable. There has been a sharp uptick in crime ever since meth came to this town. And that causes many people (including myself) to think twice before reaching out to anyone in unfortunate circumstances.
Unfortunate circumstances that are causing more and more people to suffer. Like high unemployment, low rental vacancies, depressed wages, high rents, unusually high housing prices, addiction and inflation on basic things like food, hydro and even thrift store prices.
I'm reading (in our local newspapers) about the housing "crisis", the addiction "crisis" and the mental health "crisis." I can see evidence of all three in my neighborhood alone. The newspapers aren't exaggerating about this - it is real.
Our local charities can no longer cope with the rising numbers of homeless, the rising number of unemployed (or under employed), those with addiction or mental health issues. The shelters are over capacity and the food banks are running empty.
Simultaneously, our city is bulldozing buildings that could be utilized to deal with all of these crises - a hospital that could have been transformed into a community shelter or addiction treatment facility, older schools that could provide some form of emergency shelter. It's all so maddening.
So, if I'm outdoors again next winter - though it may be hard at times - I'm going to try to remember to count my blessings, meagre as they may be.
I'm by no means rich. My job is about as unglamorous as one could get. I do not drive a fancy automobile. I've never enjoyed a vacay to the Caribbean.
But.... I'm employed. I'm housed. Thus far, I'm able bodied and reasonably fit for my age. I'm lucky enough to be able to hem and haw sometimes over whether to order the pizza and wings or subs and salad when payday rolls around. If I have enough days off in a row, I can take a bit of pleasure in a four pack of craft beer from the brewery across the street and indulge with a little (now legal) marijuana to take my mind off my own worries and troubles. I actually need to purge some of my belongings - in contrast with others who have nothing.
I get to go on little journeys occasionally, to break up the monotony in my not so exciting life. I have two darling little doggies, friends, and a family that loves me.
I truly am one of the lucky ones - though I know all of that could change in a heartbeat.
I was prompted to write this after reading an article in my local newspaper today. I've read many such posts on DU - in fact, these kinds of posts are becoming far too common.
What will people do if things get much worse? It's happening everywhere, not just in my hometown.
BTW, I'm in Canada, which may suprise some here.
= new reply since forum marked as read
Welcome to you and your heart, to DU, Madtown. 
You said, "The reason I did that was because when you see so many homeless you feel you can’t help them and it is very discouraging."
We each can do a little something, even a big something now and then. I used to do something similar. On my way home from work, I would frequently stop at a particular grocery store. There was a homeless woman who would offer to wash windshields there. I would save up little car jobs for her, not just washing my windshield, but other exterior car work. Then I would pay her when I came out. I would also buy her a little bag of groceries, usually stuff like a loaf of bread, some mayo and sliced turkey.
When she quit showing up there, I missed her, but she did tell me she would be doing something different about her circumstances, so didn't worry too much. I think about her now and then and wonder how she is.
