The Homeless Mom: She Could Be Me

I was on Oprah today.  (Okay, I DVR’d it and just watched it today; it aired last Tuesday.) 

Actually, I wasn’t actually on Oprah, but the woman who was on could be me—or one of my friends or my sisters--and that really scares me. 

This woman has three children, very close in age, like I do, but hers are older.  She lives on the west coast, in Sacramento, and I live on the east coast, here in the suburbs of DC.  She’s about my age and was wearing my clothes.  She has a haircut like me or one of my friends.   Just last year, she and her husband were living in a condo in a gated community; they had a pool, cars, and a Wii.  They had a dog whom the family adored.  And now she and her husband are out of jobs, and they are homeless.

This time last year, she had no idea that she would constantly be moving between two different homeless shelters—one during the day and one at night--living apart from her husband, and just trying to keep her children and herself alive.   This time last year, she was living a comfortable life; now, all of her worldly possessions—just clothes and some toiletries--are in a black trash bag.  She uses a communal shower in a shelter. 

While I watched Lisa Ling’s special report on Tent Cities in America and the ripple effect that this Recession is having on all Americans, I wondered what really separates me from the women and families she was interviewing.  The women she spoke to appeared to have so much in common with me or my friends; at one time, they had a job that made them feel fulfilled and that helped make ends meet.  These women are mothers who, at one time, felt the same joys, comforts, and gamut of emotions that I feel every single day.  They, like me, once muddled through their family’s daily routine—getting little ones dressed and ready for school, managing a household, chauffeuring to and from activities, making dinner, then giving baths, reading books, and saying goodnight.   One said she was over-qualified for most of the jobs she was now applying for and was competing with over 400 applicants for a single position.   She was taking food from a food bank where she used to donate items.

So what went wrong for them? Why, now, are they homeless and I am not?  Is it the difference between saving money and spending too carelessly?  Does it boil down to the difference between having a college degree or not having a college degree? Did they or their husbands choose a trade that is just not in high demand now that no one has extra money?  Am I lucky because I am living in the DC Metro area, where we are surrounded by very large, high-achieving school districts and solid government jobs?

The answers to my questions above, I cannot say for sure, but this is what I do know, and the figures are staggering:

• Every shelter in Sacramento, CA is currently filled to capacity, with 236 women and children on waiting lists;

• Sacramento schools had 6100 children registered as “homeless” before the economy went south, and officials estimate that that number will be over 7000 this year;

• A company in Sacramento that “clears out” foreclosed homes has jumped from 3 employees to 73 in the last year.  They clean out 15 houses a day, throwing people’s belongings into a dumpster and then into a landfill because no one can keep up with organizing and distributing the items to people who need them.

The rapidly rising rates of homelessness and foreclosures in our nation are enough to make me either want to crawl into a ball and cry or make me shout from a mountaintop that this has to stop.   How bad will this get before it ends?  Is there an end in sight?

What will be the end for the woman—who could have been me—who’s living at the mercy of Sacramento’s streets as I write this from my cozy home, my three babies sleeping snuggly in their beds, my husband watching Maryland basketball on our flat screen, and my shower  just steps away?  What is my obligation to this woman and others like her, who don’t have families who can help and who don’t have anywhere else to turn?  

I think I will start by returning the extra bathing suits I picked up for my kids this summer and will put the returned money in the bank.  They’ll be fine with just one and won’t even know the difference.  Maybe my obligation begins with simplifying life for my family and saving more for tough times that may lie ahead.  

 This is an original DC Metro Moms Blog post.  Amy Mascott also writes at http://www.teachmama.com where she chronicles the ways she tries to sneak a little bit of learning into her children's lives everyday.