The Rembis Report and Other Fascinating Topics - Volume CIII

This newsletter is the first of six weekly editions in a series about homelessness, vagrancy, nomadic lifestyle, human emigration, and definitions of freedom.

I lack empathy. I always have. That is just how I am wired.

To be clear, I mean empathy for humanity. When it comes to animals, plants, and insects, I absolutely love them and will go far out of my way to rescue an injured rat. But when it comes to people, those I know personally may fare well, but strangers are liable to get the short end of the stick.

While I do have a soft spot for victims of tragedy and senseless violence, I would not wish misfortune upon anyone. Yet, for those who appear to have put themselves into poor, unusual, or bizarre situations when they might have opted otherwise, I sometimes lack empathy.

Reality television comes to mind. I have previously reported that I do not consume such information. I consider the entertainment value of true stories (or what are purported to be true stories) near the dark end of the spectrum. Thirty to sixty minute vignettes about real people’s daily routines and their troubles do not particularly fascinate me. Yes, I watch the news, and I enjoy a few minutes of a game show between channel flicks, guessing the best answer to a trivial question, but I prefer well told scripted stories performed by trained actors and produced by entertainment professionals over simple voyeurism.

My dear, sweet wife Ellen, and millions of others however, feel differently about such entertainment. They get a kick out of watching somebody use a chainsaw or earth-moving equipment, seeing naked people survive a jungle by scavenging tiny animals to eat, or cringing through bacchanalian boat rides, hangovers, and the vomit that comes with it. But, to each, their own.

Reality TV does not resonate with me because I do not identify with the people or empathize with their plight. They chose to participate. Most of the time, when I happen into the TV room to find a reality show on and take a few moments, I see people making decisions that I never would. So, I am not intrigued. I don’t care to watch because I would never put myself into those situations.

I have plenty of my own reality to navigate.

We have all probably had that conversation about how each of us could have our own reality shows, that somebody following us around with a camera would never run out of entertainment for the masses. Or so, we like to think. Years ago, when I said I wanted to be a writer, people told me I should write about them. I generally declined and only after great reflection have I turned anybody I knew into a fictional starring or supporting character in my works.

I sometimes muse that my own tales might make good entertainment. I am sure not everything would or I might have written it already. For years, I thought about writing about my adventures in hitchhiking. In the 1980’s I hitchhiked a lot and I catalogued it. I thumbed over 30,000 miles from 1982 - 1986 when I did not have a car. Lots of travel was to and from Florida and Detroit, running up and down the East coast on I-95 for fun, back and forth to California a few times, mostly on I-10 or I-40. I got around and saw a lot of stuff.

Once in a while I would get rousted by a cop who just wanted to check me out and make sure I wasn’t a criminal. Nothing ever came of these encounters because I was just passing though and not breaking any laws. But more than once, when I stated that I was traveling, just for the sake of travel, and that I claimed no specific home address and was undecided about my destination, the officer would respond with “So, you are homeless.” To which I took great offence.

I did not consider myself homeless. I was never broke and could get a cheap hotel room if I wanted one, like if it was raining, and I couldn’t find a bridge to get under. I was free to roam. I had gear; a sleeping bag, footwear, clothes, toiletries - I was traveling - not homeless! I was seeing the country, out for adventure and discovery, finding my way as a young man. When I got to where I wanted, I would find a job, and a place to live, and that was just what I did. That was me. I never thought of myself as homeless.

To me, homeless people were beggars who refused to work, who drank way too much and used harsh drugs in excess. That wasn’t me. I was an explorer.

So, in my mind, I have always disparaged the concept of the hobo, thinking that a truly homeless person was not looking for work, but begging. Not striving to be part of a home or family, but a rogue without direction and no money. Somebody who was probably a thief, not to be trusted. I wanted nothing to do with them.

As for me, I never stopped exploring. I would always get jobs, make friends, and find a place to stay. I eventually bought a car and stopped hitchhiking. I was never, ever homeless, no matter what those cops said. I never identified with the homeless.

I saw the homeless as many others do. People living without direction on the fringes of society, who sleep in parks and on city streets, who rely on charity instead of themselves. Now, so many times when I see a person walking down the street with a backpack, I don’t think to myself that they are on a hike or their way to work, which they may be; I think they are homeless. I have come to view the backpack as a symbol of homelessness.

Enforcing the stereotype in my mind are those who beg. When somebody would put out their hand and ask for money, I automatically assumed they were homeless. Sometimes I gave people money, but infrequently.

Until I took acting classes. I went to acting class to become a better sales person and learn my advertising pitch. It worked. In a years’ time I was salesperson of the year at Yellowbook for Florida’s west coast region. I was a real actor. Customers thought I was a salesman! No wonder they gave me an award.

Acting classes also helped me develop a better eye when it came to watching actors. I could tell good acting from bad acting, on stage, in films, and in real life, I was better able to discern insincerity. So, when beggars approached me, I watched them closely. I judged them like they were on an audition. I still do.

Some beggars are lying. Some are not homeless at all and have crafted some sad tale that relies on empathy. It works and they know it. If they can pluck somebody’s heart strings just right, they can get a few dollars out of them, say “Bless you!” and be gone.

A colleague and I once had a fairly well dressed fellow approach us in front of a coffee shop. He had a sob story about running out of gas and a bunch of other worries and how he just needed five bucks. I didn’t buy it and we gave him nothing. Then, a few days later, right down the road from there, that same colleague and I were were door-knocking another business together and here comes that same guy with the same sob story and a nicer shirt on than he had the other day. I blasted him. Called him a liar, told him I was calling the cops, and dialed 911 right in front of him. He ran away and lost us in the parking lot. We didn’t feel like chasing him and told the operator not to bother sending anyone because we didn’t know where he went.

What a crook. He never claimed to be homeless and probably wasn’t, but it is crooks that beg who give homeless people a bad reputation. Begging is just part of it. Poor hygiene and drug use also contribute to that reputation. But bad actors are also to blame.

Performance artists busking on city streets have been around as long as there have been city streets. Strumming a guitar, dancing, singing, juggling, magic, pretending to be a statue are all perfectly reasonable forms of begging. It may not look like begging because the artists are offering a service, expressing a talent. It is the original crowdfunding venture. Some artists make a living this way and it is quite commendable.

But panhandling has become a new form of busking. Begging for nothing in return has been around longer than city streets have. In the past it has been mainly done by those who are clearly blind or crippled, aged people who appear to be near their final breath with no clear view of their own future. Now there are actors pretending to be poor.

They stand and walk with signs alongside freeway entrance ramps and busy intersections. They prey on those who believe what they see and show them as pitiful a sight as possible. Some take extreme measures and fake severed limbs, sitting on their legs, or hiding an arm to pin up a shirt sleeve. YouTube offers multiple videos about fake beggars.

A young man approached me outside of a grocery store the other day. He was dirty. He had no shoes and no shirt. His pants were ill-fitting and shabby. He was skinny. He put his palms together as if praying and said “Excuse me sir . . . “ I looked him right in the eye and my gut told me that he was fake.

I replied “I am busy right now,” and I walked past him.

I think he was busking and I did not want to be part of his show.

I know that I could be wrong. When I came out of the store he was rummaging through a backpack on the sidewalk and I went on my way. Was he truly in need? Was he homeless? Or was he acting? Does he make more money than me in a day? I will never know, but I trust my first impression. I think it was an act and he was overdoing it.

If I am wrong it still does not bother me, because he is young, and he will find a way out of his situation eventually. He will get shoes on his feet, find a shirt, and get a job. For now, maybe not helping him is just what he needs.

Or maybe my ignorance is what will send him spiraling in a worse direction.

Maybe I am no better than staunch republican Jesse Watters of Fox News.

Many news outlets have been reporting on the homeless crisis afflicting San Francisco right now. Crime is rampant. The police have no support. Businesses are abandoning the city. Watters rails against the homeless and blames democrats for the city’s problems, saying that martial law is the best way to fix it.

His argument is not completely unsound. Martial law and a FEMA encampment may just do the trick. But the man is ice cold. A couple days before that declaration this sound byte went viral on Twitter. Reprisals glutting the site call him a despicable, heartless beast.

Here is the full segment from Fox’s The Five with Greg Gutfield.

Those familiar with The Five know them as cheerleaders for the republican party who take great delight in bashing democrats and blaming them for everything they think is wrong. It is not so much a news show as it is an extreme opinion column without reverence for decency.

Watters view, at first, may appear as a keen observation, but the causes of homelessness are way more complex than he makes them out to be. It does not start with democratic supplementary assistance to maintain homelessness. That is a political narrative.

In the coming weeks I will take a deeper dive into who homeless people really are, how they got that way, how they may be helped, and what everyone should be willing to accept as a viable solution, not just in San Francisco, but as a model for the world.

It is not a simple equation by any means. It will take years.

We will need time to adjust.

Thanks for reading.

CLICK HERE TO READ Plight of the Unbound - Part II

If you are new to the Rembis Report and would like to read any of the previous issues, PLEASE CLICK HERE to access the archives. To read it from the beginning, PLEASE GET A COPY of The Rembis Report: An Observation.