Cemeteries, Land, The Homeless

Last night, I had not finished Remembering the Forgotten: The Space that Remains, written bt Amy Shea and published in Pangryus. She writes about cemeteries, potter's fields, the homeless problem of Fresno, California in a way arouses one's feelings about the dignity of a final resting place denied to the homeless, to any other placed in a mass grave. Having roamed through a few cemeteries in my lifetime, I do agree with her about the markers representing one's dignity as a human being. They are reminders to history that they were here, they did live. When all is done, this is our memory of the past and our hope for our won future.

I include the following quote, but I suggest one read the full essay on the homeless issues of Fresno. We can have them here in Indiana. Hoosiers need not think they are morally superior to Californians.

Perhaps the public witnessing of such injustice and inhuman living quarters regularly is the necessary impetus for communities and leadership to start actively exploring how homelessness can be solved instead of merely hidden. Time and again, it seems that when those experiencing homelessness are seen, it is only in the form of a blight: something to be weeded out so as not to dirty up the nicer parts of town. All this warring over space leads to social injustice in the form of economic and health disparities. Many who are homeless have the tri-morbidity of poor physical and mental health and drug or alcohol dependence, which may lead them down a path where, even in death, as is evidenced by the potter’s field, they are forced to the far reaches of “wasted” space: the only space that remains.

As my dad left the cemetery after the mass burial on that hot September day, we dragged the bottoms of our shoes along the dirt-paved road trying to get out all the burrs stuck to the soles. We were quiet, our spirits low. We both agreed that a lackluster service was better than no service, yet something about it had left me feeling hollow and a little gross. It had felt disingenuous in a perfunctory sort of way. Yet, while the service conducted in Fresno seemed rather lacking, the sheriff ’s department had meticulously documented all the names, ages, and dates of birth and death that they had for each individual, along with the location/plot where they were interred that day in Fresno: something that hadn’t always happened in the past.

I also suggest you read a piece of very fine writing.

sch 12/23