"Foreclosures Hit the Homeless......Evictions AND The Repo Man Strikes!.......... "

Good Afternoon, Again;

I've been meaning to write this for a while and keep forgetting to....so here it is.....;

As you are riding the Metro subway on the way downtown you can see the signs of homelessness affecting Baltimore. On the left hand side after you pass Reisterstown Rd. Plaza station and just before crossing over Northern Pkwy. as you approach Rogers Ave. station you will see the CSX tracks that parallel the subway split and split again into a small 'marshaling yard' where for many years the same unused boxcars have sat gathering rust and grafitti. Unused by the railroads that is, for many of these boxcars became, first, a place to escape the weather, and for some a place to smoke the 'crack' that they purchased in the neighborhood across the street. Then, over time, crude shelters and abodes. As time passed and it seemed that the cars would never be moved a few became 'home' to homeless men, women, and in at least one case I'm sure of, a family. Many stayed a night or a week, or a season, moving on as weather or situations changed. But for a few these vacant and seemingly abandoned hulks became a 'home'. There were pallets leaned against the far side acting as simple ladders on some of the boxcars and others had crates and boxes stacked like Legos in a unintentional crude imitation of Baltimore's famed marble steps, (or stoops).

Most of the cars had nothing more than cardboard, or a tarp or a mat delineating a clear and fairly clean area where bedding would be unrolled as a sleeping area.

As it became clear that the freight cars had been sitting for ages and no notice was being taken, things that were necessary for making life easier but which were too bulky or heavy for day to day carriage began to be left in the cars, fingers being kept crossed that they would be there upon return each night. Some folks, families, hung discarded sheets or curtains as dividers to create rooms and a semblance of privacy and permanence to their living space. Then, first simply boxes, then old pieces of furniture light enough to carry, and old mattresses rescued from the curbside before bulk trash collection or evictions began to appear, along with battery operated lanterns. I've seen people cooking on the far side of the tracks, screened from public view by the boxcars and the banks and retaining walls, on Coleman camp stove and charcoal grills. In the winter and inclement weather Coleman stoves and kerosene heaters have been utilized for heat, with a side door and the roof vents and inspection doors opened for ventilation. Eventually someone lugged an old couch from somewhere onto a floor now carpeted with scraps and remnants of carpets and rugs. Comfort and complacency set in as little by little the idea that this was a freight car, on wheels, on a railroad siding, belonging to CSX, that could actually be moved faded.

Like Californians with Earthquakes, Midwesterners with Tornadoes, and Floridians with Hurricanes...the threat retreated farther and farther with each day that passed without a sign of worry.

One morning a few weeks ago I was on the eastbound Metro towards downtown, on my way to Monkee's or Jai Medical, and I passed the sidings without paying any attention to them, they were an unchanging permanent part of the landscape not worth a glance. Something kept bothering me though. I returned that afternoon and still could not figure out what was causing that tiny itch in my subconscious.

A day or so later I was getting on the train at th R.R. Plaza station after spending the night at Jenn's, heading west to Old Ct. station when it hit me that something had been different about the boxcars. I thought it may have been that the grafitti had been painted over, which used to occur at irregular intervals. It was bugging me and I had time to spare so I got off at Milford Mill station and got on the next east bound train.

As I approached the siding area it was obvious that the train cars were gone form a distance. But as the subway train got closer the true realization of the situation became apparent. All along the far side or the farthest track were large and small piles of debris. Clothing, broken furniture, paper, food containers, blnkets, and piles of cardboard, plus other unidentifiable objects.

At one pile a lone chair sat upright amidst the wreckage, as if someone had sat in shock, pondering at the cruel turn of fate that caused him to be doubly homeless.

At that time and other occasions right afterwards as I passed by I saw no people at anytime, day or night, near the mounds of shattered hopes and dreams.

I know it is cliche, and a staple of every TV news teams coverage of any and all disasters, man made and nature on the rampage, but there it was.... a child's doll laying there, eyes open to the glaring, uncaring sun and empty vacant sky.

And I have to wonder...where did these folks go, do they have anything left at all?

I've neither seen on TV or read in the paper about this particular group of folks.

No one I've talked to knows anything. The only ones who remain are the crackheads.

Later........Dave