What About the Humans?

Every time I hear of another former Tent City resident losing their housing, my heart sinks. I’m engulfed by that same feeling of helplessness and indignation that I felt watching bulldozers demolish people’s makeshift homes a year ago.

It’s been almost exactly a year since the last residents were evicted from the Lakewood encampment. And sure, a year of free housing under the consent order that closed the camp was better than nothing. But without resources in place to help these folks readjust to society, or any consideration given to their emotional needs, the outcome was predictable: they are back on the street, or in the woods, or elsewhere without an adequate roof over their heads. And now, they are also without the sense of community and ownership that Tent City provided them.

The fact remains that it would have been far more cost-effective – not to mention far more humane – for Lakewood Township and Ocean County to work alongside advocates to build a comprehensive, sustainable community for the homeless in the absence of a shelter. Sadly, such a solution was met with not only a lack of political will, but also the ignorance and prejudices that exacerbate the “Not In My Backyard” mentality. Ironically, the homeless ARE in our backyard - in some places, quite literally, relegated to the shadows behind our homes and in our towns, because they have nowhere else to go. To this day, there is still no homeless shelter in Ocean County.

Having seen the Ocean County political machine at work, I stand firm in my belief that the primary goal was ultimately keeping the homeless out of sight and out of mind. But where exactly does that leave the poorest of the poor?

It is worth noting that Ocean County does have multiple animal shelters. Perhaps it is a hard truth that human beings do not elicit as much sympathy as a sad-eyed puppy or mewling kitten. But honestly, that speaks tragic volumes about our society. The bedraggled individual with a history of substance abuse or mental illness might not be as cuddly as a stray dog, but he or she is still deserving of compassion, dignity, and the basic necessities of life.

There are some of us who believe that a little bit of our own comfort is worth sacrificing for the sake of others. We take the phrase “live simply so that others may simply live” to heart, without questioning whether or not someone is deserving. We believe that maybe, just maybe, if enough people felt this way, those in extreme poverty would not be so inclined to give up on themselves as many often do.

For some, Tent City was a means to a better end: an opportunity to step up and do better, and many did. For others, it was all they could hope to have. With affordable housing, jobs, mental health resources, and addiction counseling out of reach for those people, a tent in the woods was their only option. They had food, clothing, and shelter. They had access to hygienic facilities, transportation, and caring volunteers. They had neighbors. Friends. Continuity. Predictability. Dignity. And it was enough.

Tent City was by no means a perfect solution by many people’s standards, but compared to overcrowded shelters, unsanitary motels, or the despair of the streets, it was better than many could have hoped for.

Meanwhile, we who serve the homeless still do what we can to help individuals with their most immediate needs, even in the face of financial and logistical challenges. We also still believe it is possible to take the lessons learned from Tent City and build upon them, creating something even better. But thus far, our pleas to those in power still go unheard – and worse, the situation for the homeless in our area grows more desperate by the day.

So what will you, dear reader, do for the least of your brothers and sisters?

Because we – and the homeless themselves – need your help more than ever.

Inspiration

"This song is brand new. I only wrote it a few weeks ago, so if I forget the words, bear with me."

It was an artsy, intimate setting over at the Asbury Park Music In Film Festival, and many of the faces - my Tent City friends, a mix of volunteers, advocates, and former residents - were quite familiar. Nevertheless, as I stood in front of the crowd, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, my adrenaline soaring. That studio may as well have been a stadium.

But as I heard the introduction of my newest musical composition, "I've Got a Story" start to play, I jumped in. My eyes struggled against the bright stage lights as they scanned the outlines of my friends' faces. Indeed, as the song proclaimed, they all had a story. They all had a name. And we were not very different at all. I sang to and about each and every one of them, as well as those who were there only in spirit.

The day was a joyful one, a reunion and a reminder of the paths that crossed along a winding dirt road. I felt proud that my video for another song I'd written, "One Voice," had been accepted as an entry into the festival, and prouder still that I had the opportunity to perform live.

But there was more work to be done.

About two weeks after the Asbury Park Music in Film Festival, the tremendous degree of inspiration I'd received along that dirt road came to fruition. The album I'd been working on - composing, producing, mixing, remixing - for the past year was finally complete and sent to the distributor. It is due for release on May 5 - which is now less than forty-eight hours away.

I've got a story too, one that I've attempted to condense into ten songs. I wonder if my listeners will be able to hear the elusive bits of my heart poured into each note: the subtle shifts when powerful emotions hindered an otherwise-flawless take; the allegories and the metaphors in lyrics scribbled on the back of a Harbor Freight receipt; the piano progression that took me weeks to perfect.

I wonder how many are aware of the number of times I was filled with doubt, questioning not only the journey itself, but what would come of it. There I was, never having been homeless myself, never having pitched a tent, never having slept outdoors, suddenly drawn into a world I knew nothing about and a calling I didn't think I was equipped to handle. I felt so strongly that providence had led me there, yet there were many moments I tried to walk away, returning to the life I knew before the people of Tent City left their footprints on my heart. At times I didn't have much recourse but to just strap myself in and take the ride. But with each song I wrote, another doubt disappeared.

My listeners may never know the full breadth of my experience, but whenever those songs are played, I hope they are able move people in spirit and to action.

I hope they will inspire their audience just as the people and spirit of Tent City inspired me.

I hope I sell so many copies that I'm able to single-handedly finance an intentional community for the homeless where people need not fear harassment, demolition, or eviction ever again. Hey, I can dream, right?

Yes, I can. And I will. Because as grass can still grow through cracks in the sidewalk, even amid hopelessness and uncertainty, there will always be room for inspiration.

And always, ALWAYS room for dreams.

COMING SOON!!! :-D