The New War on Poverty

The young man smiles as cars pause at the light getting off Interstate Five in Medford, Oregon. He holds a cardboard sign that says "Need food, a job, prayer. Thank you." He's there almost every day and if he isn't, someone else is standing in his place. One woman's face is map of hardship, pain and probably loss. Her sign is worded differently, but the essence of it is the same. They are desperate people. These are hard times and every freeway ramp is a compass of what the economy has done to people all over the United States.

A few people pause and open their car window. They hand over a dollar or two and maybe say a few encouraging words. Other people won't even make eye contact. This is too close to poverty and it is uncomfortable to see that people are suffering. It is easier to make sure that the car doors are locked and just get through the light as fast as you can. And besides that dollar isn't going to do anything much. These people can work, they just choose not to. Or, that is what they must tell themselves in order to disregard the people with the signs.

About thirteen years ago, shortly after I first moved to Southern Oregon, I used to drive by another homeless man. He liked to hide out underneath the tunnel, on the north end of town just after the "Welcome to Ashland" sign. He is the only one I remember seeing on a regular basis back then. He is my compass for acknowledging that this problem of poverty, of hopelessness is growing bigger. And I don't think it is limited to my own backyard.

We are seeing people who had good jobs falling into poverty. We are seeing people who once worked their way off welfare, got out of the system and now are finding themselves dropped right back into a life of food stamps and welfare. And it should make us uncomfortable. It should make us angry. A lot of us are not all that far away from those cardboard signs.