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| Photo by Dallas Hyland |
Written by Marianne Mansfield
If I have to be homeless and hungry, or mentally ill, I’d much prefer to be here in St. George, Utah, rather than in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida.
Have you followed what’s happening there?
On November 1, Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, enacted an ordinance prohibiting food sharing in public and unregulated places. The ordinance, which was passed in October of this year, made it unlawful for groups to feed the homeless in public areas unless they provide hand-washing and toilet facilities, get permits, and feed only in certain locations. It was one of five ordinances focusing on the homeless passed by the city in the last seven months. The mayor of Ft. Lauderdale, Jack Seiler, defended the ordinances saying that local business owners have complained that the congregation of homeless men, women, and children near their establishments has negatively impacted their businesses.
In acts of enforcement of the ordinance, city officers cited several persons who were distributing food in city parks including Arnold Abbott, a 90 year old WW II veteran and homeless advocate. His is the face that has become the banner for those who oppose the ordinance, as well as the city’s perceived unwillingness to treat the homeless with dignity and compassion.
Abbott has received several citations from the police, although he has never been arrested.
On Tuesday, December 2, Judge Thomas Lynch temporarily banned the issuance of any further citations for thirty days. During that time period he strongly urged the homeless advocates, including Abbott, and officials from the mayor’s office to come to some sort of peaceful compromise.
While this seems like a good start, it seemed not to satisfy everyone. On Monday the protest group Anonymous claimed responsibility for shutting down two city operated websites. In a YouTube video a spokesperson said that if the city did not withdraw all such ordinances immediately, the city’s official website would be hacked and shut down.
Frankly, I think the Judge’s suggestion bears significantly more merit. Bullies in Guy Fawkes masks (the standard uniform for members of Anonymous) don’t get much respect from me.
Which brings me to why, if I ever have the massive misfortune to become homeless and/or mentally ill, I want to be here in St. George.
This community has started up a different path in how we approach the least fortunate men, women, and children who live here. While we have miles to go, we’ve taken some significant first steps.
Unless you’ve been under a rock lately, you are familiar with the new homeless shelter, Switchpoint, which is operated by the city of St. George. Opened in August of this year, the center operates on the assumption that few choose to be homeless and that, given the proper support, as many as possible can become contributing members in our community. Treating people with dignity, in a manner in which you and I would want to be treated, no matter our circumstance, is key to the success of Switchpoint, as well as the organizations providing support to vulnerable populations.
Unlike Ft. Lauderdale, it seems the folks here aren’t trying to ‘manage’ a population. Here they are trying to help men, women and children. Simply help.
Unlike Ft. Lauderdale, the folks here realize the power of working together. The city, the religious communities, and advocacy groups have stepped up. Those groups, as well as individuals committed to helping the vulnerable, subscribe to a belief that by putting differences aside and focusing on a common goal, great good can be accomplished.
The compassion of this community doesn’t stop, or start, with the homeless. For example, last year I became familiar with the workings of the Mental Health Court system of Washington County. This court works with offenders who have a confirmed mental illness diagnosis. By bringing together available community resources, an advocacy system and a monitoring mechanism, the Court attempts to change their life paths, thereby achieving a therapeutic jurisprudence. Therapeutic jurisprudence combines mental health treatment with criminal justice administration. Participants complete a program of mental health treatment and also satisfy the legal requirements associated with their criminal offense. Although not in every case, but in many, the Mental Health court provides offenders the support to escape the revolving door of recidivism.
Another example, just this week a veteran was taken into custody in downtown St. George after a several hour stand-off with police and a report of shots fired. At this writing, little additional information is publically available, but it has been mentioned in the media that this man will be evaluated as a potential candidate for the Veterans Court system. I know little about the Veterans’ Court, but if it functions at all like the Mental Health Court does, I expect this man to be treated with compassion for his mental status, balanced with rigorous help for his actions.
And then, there is ‘The Community Soup Kitchen in Grace’ located at Grace Episcopal Church. The Soup Kitchen serves hot, nutritious meals to approximately 150 individuals four days a week, soon to be five. Less than half of these people are homeless, but all are hungry.
There are commonalities in each of these scenarios in which community members help others. There is the belief that any person’s circumstance should not define her/his humanity. There is a recognition that only by gathering together disparate resources will a support system emerge strong enough to hold the weight of fractured individuals. And finally, there is a willingness to fight on, regardless of the odds, because people are in need.
Is there more to be done? Of course there is. There will always be a need for more to be done. The commitment to caring, however, is living and breathing here. I may not agree with the politics of the region, but I continue to be grateful and impressed by some of the dedicated individuals I find here.
So, though I never want to be homeless or mentally ill, it might happen. No one chooses these circumstances. If, however, this lot falls to me, I want to be here.
Marianne Mansfield has lived in Southern Utah since 2010. She and her husband followed their grandchildren to this area from Michigan. In her former life she was a public school educator. More than half of her career was spent as an elementary principal, which is why her response to most challenges is, “This isn’t my first rodeo.” She grew up in Indiana, and attended Miami of Ohio, Ball State University and Michigan State. She is a loyal MSU Spartan and Detroit Tiger baseball fan. She has been writing fiction and opinion since her retirement in 2004.
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