There is a sculpture in the vestibule of the Church of the Badia Fiorentina in Florence. It isn’t in the sanctuary where the masterpieces of Renaissance art are hanging. It’s out there by itself, up against the wall. A human figure huddled in a blanket. It’s only when you notice the stigmata in the bare feet that you know who this is meant to depict.

In Hamilton, when Judith and I go for a walk in Gage Park, there are small clusters of tents. I’m always glad to see them. They look cozy.

Bronze sculpture of a figure huddled in a blanket on a park bench.
Sculpture “Ero Nudo E Mi Avete Vestito” by Timothy P. Schmatz

When I went to San Francisco quite a long time ago (forty years???) I was shocked at all the people living on the streets. Many looking not so down and out, not scruffy. Looking like regular people. Regular people with no home. Families too.

In New York, I saw people in improvised cardboard box shelters, or lying on subway grates. Wherever heat could be found. I’ll never forget the man, black, very tall, lying on his back on the sidewalk, feet bare. The woman, middle aged, well groomed, sitting on the ground by a bus stop with a sign “Just out of the hospital”. (USA. No OHIP.) I tucked a twenty dollar bill in her hat when she looked away. In the bus, I looked out the window. She was standing, waving frantically at me. Crying.

There are people who want to get the tents out of the park. It’s their park, they think, made just for them to stroll in. It upsets them to see the tents. Even though there’s plenty of park left over for strolling.

Here’s the thing. (As Kamala Harris was fond of saying.) Nobody planned the little tent communities, but it’s actually not a bad approach to a really difficult problem.

There used to be huge hobo jungle camps out by the railroad tracks or under viaducts. (Probably still are.) Rough places. Periodically the cops would raid those camps and beat everyone on the head and drive them away. And then afterwards, the hobos would come back, because where else could they go?

Is this better?

Many countries have favellas, huge districts of improvised shacks where thousands live. The laws of the country don’t apply there. They have their own law, established and enforced by gangsters.

Is this what you want?

Our little tent communities, like the one in Gage Park, look quiet and well organized. It’s easy for the police to keep an eye on them and for social workers to come and check how people are doing.

Years ago when I was growing up in Toronto, there were many vacant lots. There was one in Scarborough where we lived, about two blocks away. We used to dig deep trenches, cover them with wood, and make forts. Nobody bothered us.

Sculpture “I Was Naked And You Clothed Me.” (Detail)

Now the vacant lots are all gone, filled with condos. You would need a pretty good job to live in one of those condos.

The vacant lots are gone. The condos are unaffordable. Where do you want people to go?


Comments

4 responses to “Tents in the Park”

  1. Nina Clements Avatar
    Nina Clements

    I love reading your blogs Ron, they are so heartfelt.

    1. Thank you for these words, Nina. I need to know there’s someone out there reading what I write.

  2. Moe Dwyer Avatar

    Thank you Ron. Your words resonate with me. We need to see the unhoused with compassion not condemnation.

  3. Compassion, yes. But also let’s be clear-eyed about the consequences of our acts. Or perhaps not our acts, but the acts that our done in our name.

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