The subject of homeless individuals in our community is one that evokes a variety of opinions and different viewpoints.
The various types of charitable support in Choo Choo Town historically has always been a priority amongst the various non-profits, foundations, churches, civic groups, local governments, and individuals.
There is also a difference of opinions as to whether the population is primarily local, from no more than 50 miles away, or part of the national/international migration to the Volunteer State and Gig City.
The Homeless Foundation announced that they had identified 1144 individuals needing assistance in 2022 and that number had dropped to 785 at some point in 2023. It is anticipated that an accurate number for the entire year will be made to account for either a rising or falling number of participants in the specific category. Veterans with mental illness are also supported by military units and a number of mental health groups.
Lewis Grizzard (LG) candidly admitted in his various books that his father and namesake was not only a war hero in both WWII and Korea, but also became an alcoholic and part time homeless person before he died.
The following is a verbatim account of one of his experiences on the subject of the article:
He came walking across the lobby of the hotel. He was scraggly and his jeans were in need of a washing. He carried a paper sack.
He hit on the cashier first. She shooed him away with a flick of her wrist. A woman sat reading in a chair. He approached her. She looked up from her magazine only for a second and then went back to reading, ignoring his pitch. Then he saw me. If you panhandle long enough, I suppose it becomes easy to spot a soft touch.
"Sir," he began, "I wonder if I could speak with you for a moment?"
Most beggars are very polite. They can't afford not to be. He started to reach inside his sack.
"What are you selling?" I asked.
"I'm not selling anything. I'm just asking for a dona- tion for this." He handed me a lapel pin, a tiny American flag. The pin was attached to a card which read, "Show your colors and help a disabled veteran."
"You're a disabled veteran?" I asked the man.
"Got my card to prove it." He pulled a tattered wallet out of his back pocket and drew out a small card.
On the card, he or someone else had scrawled, "Charles Ienberg, Disabled Vet."
"World War II?" I continued.
"I ain't that old," he said. "Korea." His breath smelled like stale beer.
I thought of another man I knew who also fought in Korea and drank after he came back. "Were you wounded?" I went on.
"See this fingernail?" he said, pointing the index finger on his right hand toward me. "They pulled the fingernail off and burned my hands with cigarettes."
"Who is 'they'?"
"North Koreans," he answered. "I jumped into South Korea and they got me and these three other fellows just like that. When we finally got out, they sent me to Seattle and I was in the hospital for a long time. I never have been the same since. They told me to quit drinking, but that ain't no easy thing to do."
"You're still drinking?"
"I'll be honest with you, sir," he said, "I need me a drink pretty bad right now. I ain't gonna lie to you. I'm hungry, but I need a drink a lot worse than I need something to eat."
I appreciated his honesty.
"This is all you do, ask for donations for these pins?" I asked.
"Used to do some house painting, but I can't get no work no more. Guess I'm too old."
"How old are you?"
"Fifty-two."
He looked twenty years older than that. I pulled a five out of my pocket and handed it to him. He handed me a lapel pin. Then he thanked me for my donation, tucked his sack back under his arm and shuffled away to buy his pint.
I mentioned another lonely old soldier. I used to give him whiskey money, too. I buried him next to his mother. (LG’s dad)
Damn wars. Damn them all.”
(Although there are a minority of non-veterans that scam and prey on the generosity of a caring and supportive America, and Chattanooga, the majority deserves to be remembered and receive treatment for service to our country!)
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You can reach Jerry Summers at jsummers@summersfirm.com
Jerry Summers