I'd like my neighbourhood gastown/downtown eastside to model integration of those of us with money and those of us without.

There's this dude who was homeless, and has been living inside for a couple years now.

He's a hard working binner, and a few of us in my condo periodically let him in to empty our recycling bins.

He's very pleasant and courteous.

It's looking good for Obama. And some serious congressional change -> Democrats.

That will be water on dry -very dry - ground for me, and I imagine for many of us who want to "change everything".

And it's a good reminder that in history, sometimes good and right things happen:
Slavery is outlawed.
Women get the vote.
Wars stop.

I had planned/hoped to sleep outside City Hall tonight with several other middle-class Vancouverites who hope for better than a city with people who have little choice *but* to sleep outside.

I arranged the sleeping bag, the foamy, a tarp .... and then found out City Hall has forbidden the use of tarps.

Fellow Citizens, you should know about this:

Many of you know of the infamous Oppenheimer Park in my 'hood, the Downtown Eastside. It's a pretty grim park, frankly. I only go there rarely and I don't let my dogs walk there because of the needles. And other stuff. See image below. But this next part is insane:

overheard a guy living outside asking another one: do all those people who drive right through here (he was talking about powell street) even Notice us?

I thought that was an excellent question.

Hello, Readers --If you are a Vancouver resident who chafes at the lack of affordable housing, you can imagine the hopelessness of my dtes neighbours as nearly half of the barely-affordable housing for low-income people has been wiped out in the past short while, in favour of development.

I live and love in gastown/dtes - in a little loft/condo.   I have a problem that a social enterprise could solve.

I want to compost but have no garden, and not much room in my home.  So, I'm going to try Bokashi (small buckets, no smell).  But here's the thing:  I have nowhere to put the compost once it's ready.

Hey, kudos. 

And of course I voted for it (and then lost a couple hours surfing through all the other nominees). 

I voted for the olympics. I wanted them to come. I liked the idea of 'inviting the world to Vancouver' and I also figured it was a good motivator to get different levels of government to commit funding to infrastructure.

Now, I'm not so sure.

Some imperfections seem, well, more imperfect than others - ie., have a harsher impact than others, but the fact remains nearly everything other than the tiny hands of babies or my 2 dachshunds are imperfect.   Me too.

What a difference between my last post and this one.  I'm heartened again, thanks in part to the commenters on my last post in which I despaired of ever effecting change.

My change I wanted to effect was that my neighbourhood, gastown/dtes, be transformed into a place where those of us with money would integrate with respect, care and humanity with those among us who are marginalized. But I'm weary.

3 cheers to Workspace, a business in gastown, who pulled together a chunk of change, bought top-quality pizza, and delivered it to the folks hanging around Pigeon Park. Not a whole bunch of talking, debating, deciding if the people were morally fit to receive an act of generousity. Just feeding some hungry people.

There are a lot of kids in the downtown eastside, be we don't get to hear much from them and we don't see them a lot either.  But here's a new initative worth supporting that gives kids something I had as a kid, and it made all the difference in my life:  music lessons.

His street name is Bob. I met him last summer when he asked if he could say hi to my daschunds, while I was walking them in Crabb Park. He often came to Crabb Park to meditate and had seen the hounds a few times, but had been too shy to ask previously.

He was living outside at the time, but seemed reasonably healthy, addiction free (?) and was picking up day work til his steel-toed boots got stolen.

Just had the BEST experience! As part of a contest my business is running, in which contestants choose a habit to change for the month of April that will result in increased money in their savings accounts, I've given up the classic lattes, plus eating lunches out unless for business purposes. Rather than adding to my savings accounts though, I'm opting to give money to people on the street .

I nearly bumped into the old geezer when I stepped out of the elevator of my bldg. Must have been in his 80s. One shoe on, the other gone (anyone find a light tan moccasin, right foot?). Shirt half tucked in, half out under a tattererd vest. Wearing a jaunty cap. Not grubby, but definitely not from the right side of the tracks, either.

Can I help you? I asked. He happily murmered some response, and got in the elevator.

J grew up in central america and saw the kind of stuff some people never recover from.  I know I wouldn't.  Anyone who's read the book The War of Don Emanuel's Nether Parts by Louis de Bernieres will know what I'm talking about.

 J's family was able to immigrate (legally) to Canada, but he never took.  He was on the streets.

I voted for the Olympics and now very much regret it.

This was heightened by the NPAs unwillingness to take a freakin' stand, and explicitly dedicate the wealth that will be generated by the Olympics towards cleaning up ... much less 'helping out' ... the homeless, the dispossesed. So we have a bland 'legacy fund' which could be used for crappy public art or whatever, instead of meeting fundamental needs of our less compelling citizens. Thanks for nothing, Mr. Mayor.

Thanks to the person who blogs here about not being a 'sidewalk observer' but being involved in what you see around you, I've been more active in a number of areas.  This morning I awoke to particularly peculiar vocalizations outside.   An overweight woman was either doing the funky chicken or off her meds, and was writhing around on the sidewalk.  She'd pull her pants half way down then up, and her arms were flailing about.  Clearly she was not in her right mind, and while not in distress per se, was rather miserable.

OK - one way to move towards my "change everything" goal of integrating those of us with money with those of us without, is for as many of both groups to know some of the basic resources available. Here is a partial list:

If you haven't seen Mount Pleasant yet (just opened this weekend) it's worthwhile - and yes, it means "Mount Pleasant", a neighbourhood in Vancouver. In addition to being a good film, it does an excellent job of teasing out the issues we grapple with in gastown/downtown eastside and of course Mt. Pleasant, among other 'hoods.

How can you not become a vigilante when your toddler picks up a needle on the sidewalk? How can you feel compassion when it's so, tiring-ly in your face, all the time (and on a personal front: most of the time I don't get bothered when asked for spare change, and if I happen to have any, I'll often respond. But sometimes I want to yell, "Do you have any idea how many 'of you' have asked me for money in the past block? And NO, I don't have any freaking change!" For the record, I manage to hold my tongue).The movie does a great job of pointing out the legitimate concerns/complaints of those who simply 'want the streets cleaned up'.  

Blakes cafe on Carrall and St. James (Anglican) church live out my desire for change.

Everyone who lives around Blakes knows it's the neighbourhood place to go. It's like in the movies - neighbours meet each other, share a coffee, introduce friends, and the owner and her staff know us all (tons of 'regulars). That's all good, but what I really like is this.

In the summer I would sit outside sipping my latte and scanning the paper. Each week, there were various small groups of men who would also be out there. Eventually I discovered they were from out of town, and in some kind of detox program nearby (I guess). I was touched by their courage, and that this kind of recovery was going on in the midst of this particular area -- it's some kind of sign. And that's not all. I have frequently seen people who are in varying degrees of housing. And there we all are, enjoying our respective coffees.

Now before anyone even starts to think of saying "NIMBY" to me, consider this:

I live a two short blocks away from INSITE, the safe injection site.

Across the street is a soup kitchen, and every morning there are about 50 people lined up.

Like all vancouverites, I  woke this past week to snow-covered roofs and treetops.  Delightful!

 On my way to work I saw a person scrunched up under a thin blanket in the doorway.  I couldn't distinguish if it was a man or woman.   People asleep outdoors  is common place in my neighbourhood, but given it had been below freezing all night it caught my attention. 

 These are the times I feel pretty useless. 

I live in gastown and love nearly everything about it.

The buildings have character, it's evolving weekly, and gastown has some of the coolest indie shops in the city.  I also get to walk nearly everywhere.

 What's not so easy is being confronted on a daily basis with the homeless and host of addicted people.

Some days, it's pretty easy to be judgemental - like when I walk outside and discover human excrement.  Yes, really.