Where the wild things go… where wild things disappear forever. 💔

 

it's so cold…🥶

It's a beautiful, sunny morning in Vancouver, but it's only 3°C. And an atmospheric river is heading our way.

A few weeks ago, I was genuinely frightened. I was facing the possibility of being homeless again on November 2. I thought, if this is really happening, I need a sleeping bag. At least I'd have something to keep me warm.

After talking it through with ChatGPT, I decided to see if I could get one for free and reach out to the Kettle Society.

I did. I didn't hear back right away. A week later, they called. They didn't have any sleeping bags.

Imagine needing something as basic as a warm sleeping bag and finding out that even the people trying to help have nothing available.

There's a whole other story behind that phone call. I'll save it for my next post.

Thankfully, I'm temporarily housed, and I am deeply grateful. But I haven't forgotten how frightening it is to be so close to having nowhere to go.

And I haven't forgotten the people who are still out there.

I'm thinking about the woman I call the No Frills lady. She doesn't stay around the grocery store. She wanders at night, rummaging through bins and sleeping in parks beneath trees. She carries her belongings in No Frills shopping bags.

It breaks my heart because I could be her.

I'm also thinking about the two people sleeping rough in the park. Where will they go when the rain arrives? Where will they find shelter when the temperature drops?

And what about everyone else?

A shelter directory is not a bed. Calling 211 is not a guarantee of somewhere safe to sleep. I've called shelters myself, twice, and been told there was no room.

I'm thinking about the 78-year-old woman, Elizabeth Davis, who lost her apartment, was discharged from hospital to a shelter, and had her shoes and phone charger stolen. She ended up back in hospital. What kind of system sends an elderly woman from a hospital bed into homelessness?

I'm thinking about women and children fleeing violence. In Surrey, women's shelters have been turning people away by the thousands. One report documented more than 9,100 turnaway instances at two shelters in 2023. Those aren't just numbers. They're people looking for somewhere safe.

And the deaths.

507 people experiencing homelessness died in British Columbia in 2024.

Five hundred and seven human lives. People with names, families, friends, histories and hopes. People who deserved so much more than dying without a safe place to call home.

It's also difficult to describe how it feels when you cannot offer your own young person, or your adult child, a safe home during such challenging times. You worry about the risks they face. You hope they're managing, that they're safe, that they're surviving.

I'm grateful my child is surviving. I know many others haven't been so fortunate. That knowledge never leaves you.

Meanwhile, there are people living in $82-million homes. But heaven forbid their property taxes go up. Could somebody lower my property assessment, please? 🤑

Perhaps the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ) should investigate the relationship between extreme wealth, housing and the growing number of people being left outside.

And perhaps this Christmas, before we rush to support another billionaire, we could support a neighbour, a local artist, a family business — or someone who needs a proper sleeping bag rated for below -30°C.

Give the billionaires the bird. 🖕

Buy local. Keep money in our communities. Help one another.

Last night's election results offer a little hope. Maybe people are ready to think twice about what kind of world we're building, and who we're leaving behind.

People weren't meant to live and die on cold, dirty streets. We are meant to have warmth, dignity, community and somewhere safe to sleep.

where the wild things go…

Not into the woods,
not beneath the stars,
not into the places
where wild things are.

But onto cold streets,
where the rain never ends,
where another lost soul
disappears without a friend.

And one day, we may look around
and wonder where everybody went.

Where the wild things go…
where wild things disappear forever. 💔