PLEASE MEET SEAN:
Seattle’s Jungle is a splendid forest adorned with vine draped maples. Birds sing high in green canopies. Berries, fruit trees, and mossy foundations speak to earlier times. Mud trails lead to nestled camps. Wandering endlessly through English Ivy. But tangled souls cry pathetically from encampments twisted among the vines and branches. Stuck in a world most can’t conceive. The “Jungle” is a homonym.
I passed Sean’s camp regularly. There was a tent, a firepit and a small patio. He’d greet me with a smile and nod each time, appearing satisfied to see an outsider with good intentions. He invited me over once. We grabbed a couple chairs and sat for a while. It was cold. But the fire and conversation were warm. I immediately like this guy.
“It’s a continuous struggle,” he said. “I worry constantly. I have many sleepless nights. We’re always on our guard.” He tossed a chunk of broken pallet on the fire. Looking into the flame he said, “I’ve always longed for the structure of a family. To be a husband and a father.”
Sean grew up a latchkey kid. His mom worked graveyard. His dad abandoned them early before serving a long prison sentence. He died soon after. Sean worked the docks of Tokeland, WA packing ice and working crab boats. He is an experienced hiker and climber. But as a young man, Sean committed a crime. It would cost him a 13 year prison sentence and any substantial chance at housing or stable employment. Sean has been homeless most of his life. “Each time I find an open door it gets slammed in my face. I feel I’m stuck.”
As I departed he said, “Tell people not to honk when they see us. Some of us cannot function safely without sleep. Tell them we are human just like you. Each of us is doing our best to get out of this hell.”
As I walked the mud path outbound a memory surfaced. As a young kid I once trespassed across a muddy lot. The mud got deeper. Clutching and emitting suction sounds with each step. My right shoe was sucked off my foot. Then the left. I felt helpless and physically drained. I was cold. I panicked. I could see where I needed to go. I could see people who could help me. But they were busy. They couldn’t see me. Or hear me over the noise.
Georgetown Neighborhood | Damian
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