How do you know a homeless person when you see them? You really don't. You can assume based on appearance. You can assume based on the piles of clothing and other items that the homeless are known for carrying around with them. You can assume based on (lack of) cleanliness, stature, or any of a variety of other indicators. The only real way to know, though, is to ask.
Then there remains the question of what homeless means. The saying -"A home is where the heart is" comes to mind. In that case, where is my heart? My heart lives all over the place. With family, with friends, with an ex lover, with fields of study and activities I enjoy, places I love -all over the place. If I had a permanent address my heart is not likely to reside there. So how displaced does that bring me from the homeless? No, I don't sleep outside swaddled in carboard and newspapers -but I do depend on the kindness -or sympathy- of others. Whether for work, for food, or whatever else, I am not self sufficient.
But then who is? Corporate executives depend on others, so do doctors, religious leaders, politicians... everybody. They're all valued, though -whether or not they have a permenant residence. You don't ask your physician where they go home to at the end of the day. You might ask where they went to school or about their training. You never ask questions of religious leaders -they're holy... or existing outside critique in most cases. Where they live, though, does not matter.
My family and friends don't seem too concerned with where I stay. Aside from making sure I'm safe and away from physical or legal trouble, they don't worry that I don't have a home persé. They just want to know what I do, what I am contributing. Do I have health insurance (yet), am I going back to school -this is what they care about.
The only thing that separates me from the term homeless is that there are still people that think I have value. That people -friends or family- believe what I have to offer is worth keeping me around for. This is the tragedy of the people that sleep outside in the cardboard and newspapers. That out of all the people they grew up around and all the people that got to know them, none value them enough to take care of them when they cannot take care of themselves. Or equally as tragic: that some people just need way more than even the people that love them can offer them. So am I homeless?
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