His Name was Jordan Neely

Jordan Neely was only 30 years old. He was homeless, black, suffered from mental illness. And he was hungry. We know he was hungry because he told us he was. 

I can't believe no one on that subway had a piece of candy, a granola bar, a banana, or even a roll of Lifesavers to offer Jordan. He was hungry. Did anyone offer him food?

What they did offer was their muscle. Three men. Two white and one black. One of the men put him in a chokehold while the other two men held him down and kept him in that chokehold. They did this until he stopped moving and stopped living.

Now the media is describing Jordan as "disturbed", "homeless", "erratic", saying he "yelled" and "threw garbage at commuters".  And while I understand commuters were probably frightened by his behavior, all these descriptions point to a man who needed help. 

A civilized society would have done something - despite being afraid of Jordan's behavior - to help him.

Jordan Neely did not deserve to die such an untimely and undignified death. 

He just needed some help.  

Source:  aol news story

Homeless in Winter

Now that New England is cold, cold, cold, it makes the stark reality of homelessness even more upsetting. Whether it is raining or snowing or windy, homeless people are out flying their signs, trying to survive, trying to help themselves, trying to get food.

I see them up close while I'm stopped at a red light, and I see no happiness on their faces. I see red, windburned cheeks and eyes that have seen a lot. And I notice that they don't make eye contact with anyone. Just glance around, but their eyes never connect with mine. 

Sometimes I give them money and sometimes I give them the lunch I packed for myself. And their gratefulness somehow humbles me. And makes me even more sad. 

I think about them when I am home and when I'm trying to sleep at night.  

Here is one way we can help: 

https://nationalhomeless.org/