Andy Nichols

Many Calgarians are living on the edge of poverty and homelessness.

Charles Bukowski once said, “My greatest strength is that I fear everything.” I couldn’t agree more. My fear is prodigious. Red light cameras? They petrify me. Mould? I own three gas masks. Nuclear war? I’ve got canned goods stashed in my apartment’s service corridors.

But the worst fear of them all is that I might mess it all up and wind up homeless, on the streets one day. I know I have it in me. Most of us do. A devastating divorce, a murdered child or even the mundanity of day-to-day stress; the stairwell down to the street is closer than we might think.

But when it comes to the other citizens in this fine city, well, I find many take a Marxist approach. That wise and benevolent scribbler, in describing his class breakdown, mentioned a group called the lumpenproletariat: the “rag proles,” the bottom rung, the downtrodden. — the so-called useless. His utopia was designed only for a certain class of people — all others be damned, higher and lower. He’s sort of like Nietzsche in that sense, only a bit more nihilistic.

Granted, there are some that act with a sense of noble obligation, dropping a few coins in the coffer, even when they haven’t got a hot date to impress... who? Society?.My ego? But even when they “give” or “donate”I sense disconnection and a hint of fear, as if these scruffy, homeless men were the Morlocks to us Eloi. I’ve seen too much ugliness to believe in that.

So I decide to visit Steve Griffin, the managing director of The Mustard Seed’s southeast shelter. Behind his salt-and-pepper moustache his face is warm with kindness, but I can tell from his eyes that he’s seen a lot of sorrow.

I want to get down to business so I ask about the “lazy-bum” stereotype and query him about the real reasons people end up homeless.

“Well, it’s varied, but I think that stereotype is a huge misconception,” he nods thoughtfully before going on. “We have people who have grown up in broken homes, who’ve been emotionally, mentally, physically or sexually abused. People who have made choices — or choices have been made for them, by someone that’s harmed them — and they find themselves on the street, not sure where to turn.”

If you’re as cynical as this social stenographer, then that could easily be classified as an excuse. But Griffith and I aren’t talking about people in the “poverty-cycle,” blowing their welfare on ugly, name-brand clothing. We’re talking about people who live under the constant threat of frostbite, malnutrition, sickness and sporadic violence.

So I ask him about stories I’ve heard of people who were upper class before they became homeless — people who have fallen on hard times. Has he seen those situations?

“Well, yes, we have. Certainly there’s not as many in that group, but with the economic boom and bust we’ve seen in Alberta, there have been situations where we’ve offered services to people who used to be architects, or who used to be oil company execs or who practised law,” he says. The Paris Hiltons of this world can afford rehab when they screw everything up. Their families can afford “justice” when they crash their car while driving drunk and high on cocaine. Here, among many immigrants and the socially disadvantaged, where rental contracts demand the soul of your first born as collateral, there’s a lot of people who haven’t been born with silver spoons, therefore don’t have those safety nets.

So, is he telling me homelessness can happen to anyone mixed up in a perfect storm?

“What we really want people to get is that homeless people, people in poverty, are no different than anybody else,” Griffith says. “We’re all the same; we’re all people — but we all have different circumstances at different times.”

As I drive home, the Deerfoot is filled with rush-hours rage. When my vehicle starts to crawl, I stare at other drivers. How many of them are close to the edge, I wonder. How many are in debt for their fancy clothes and fairly new vehicles? Do they even notice the edge? And do they care about those who’ve gone over it?

I’m glad that there are men like Griffin out there, caring for the ones who are held back.

Davis M.J Aurini is an author and cynical political writer. He blogs at StaresAtTheWorld.com.