Today I set out on an adventure to the Central Library downtown. Eight full stories of wonderful library-ness.I got on the Red Line intending to grab a bus to my final destination. But apparently, even in downtown Dallas, the bus only runs every 40 minutes. So I set off walking, and it actually wasn't too far. Only about 8 blocks. Good exercise and all.
I spent my first hour on the 8th floor. I was looking at the back issues of a professional journal for math teachers. Then I slowly explored each floor, walking down one staircase at a time. I am impressed by the collection. Did you know that they have one of the original printed copies of the U.S. Constitution on display? I think it was on the 7th floor. You should check it out. It's in a low-light room. I assume that's for preservation reasons.
The library was interesting enough, but more interesting were its patrons. There were people in business suits, parents with kids. Even an entire day care hanging out on the children's floor. There were people on almost every available computer, on every floor, doing everything from applying for loans to playing silly games on Yahoo.
And then there were the other people. These are the people who make my heart beat a little faster when I have to walk by them. There was an unusually high population of what appeared to be vagrants. They seemed to be either homeless, mentally ill, or high. Or maybe they were all of the above. I noticed them walking through downtown and I noticed a lot more of them on the various floors of the library.
At first, I was lecturing myself. I was accusing myself of racism or perhaps elitism. But then I started to pay attention to who these pulse-raising people were. Some were white. Some were black. Some were men. Some were women.
What they seemed to have in common was a sense of having nowhere to go. They were sitting. They were staring. They had plastic sacks filled with their possessions. They seemed to just be appreciative of the air conditioning.
Sometimes they walked purposefully in my direction and then turned around and walked back. Sometimes they watched what I was doing and showed signs of intending to follow. Their behavior somehow felt threatening to me, and I would like to understand that feeling better.
The main thing I took away from this experience was a curiosity about the sheer number of people who seem to have nowhere to go and no purpose in life. Seeing them in a concentrated location really made me think.
What can be done? Should I have stopped and asked them to tell me their stories? Why does that sound scary to me?
Maybe God is trying to tell me something. I don't really know.
2 comments:
I wonder if God was showing you this display because of your inner fight with yourself over the helplessness of others. From things I have read, heard, and seen, these people are not all on the street for the same reason. Maybe they lost a job, maybe they are mentally ill and can't hold down a job, maybe they are just bums and refuse to get a job.
Some of them probably are dangerous...but I bet most of them have a good story to tell about how they got where they are.
I would be interested to know if God speaks to you again on this subject. He may be leading you somewhere you didn't ever think you would go.
I worked for 10 wonderful years in that building and appreciate very much what you have said in this post. Every person living in the streets or in shelters--or apparently doing so--has a different and interesting story. I'm typing this comment on my cell phone in an airport, or I would give more details! I would highly encourage you to make an appointment with the director or one of the social workers at the Day Resource Center to learn more about the groups of people often lumped together with the label "homeless". You can get their number by dialing 311 if you live in the city limits of Dallas or--of course--from the library! Again, I appreciate your thoughtul post. (That original printed version of the Declaration is the only one on display west of the Mississippi. When one from the same group owned by Norman Lear was on display in Atlanta a few years ago, people waited in line two to three hours to see it.
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