A quick call to my friend at the foodbank let me know that they'd moved closer to the parking lot, and further from the shoreline, tucked in behind some of the scrubby brush that grows along the lake. When I found them, they offered me a seat and a beer, but I was driving so I had water instead. They've taken up smoking again, but didn't light up while I was there out of considerateness.
They'd had a bit of a scare the other night when a spectacular storm whipped up and nearly washed away their chairs, propane stove, and other belongings. Enola crawled out of the tent to round it all up and was knocked off her feet a couple of times by shoulder-high waves. Not something they want to repeat, so they looked for higher ground.
Being closer to the parking lot will also make it easier for Ned to get "to town." He's walking much better now, and his speech is clearer. He has enough dexterity in his fingers that he can grab the peak of his cap and lift it off his head. He's still building strength, and hasn't yet done the half-hour walk uphill, but they're planning on making that happen by Sunday morning when they'll be needing their water jugs refilled.
It's too bad that they had to leave behind all of the work Enola had done to make that space homey and organized. They're starting over again, for (to my knowledge) the 4th time since November. But they still say they'd rather face another winter in the tent than go live in the only emergency shelter in this part of the county.
Homelessness in a smaller town looks different from in the larger cities where you can't walk down the sidewalk without choosing to either ignore or engage with people who have no housing. In smaller centres like ours, it tends to be out of sight but very real.
The most recent numbers I could find are contained in a 2018 "Registry Week" report in which people who access social assistance in our county are asked to answer questions about their lives, including around housing. For those who acknowledged being "homeless" (a combination of couch surfing, living outdoors, and living in a motel), the average length of time was 2 years. 63% of adults identified the reason for their position as either abuse, or broken relationships. 80% of adults had physical health concerns, and 32% had mental health concerns. 23% were over the age of 50. 26% were Indigenous. Like Enola.
She credits her survival during the storm to the fact that she's a strong swimmer. "I've swum in all 5 Great Lakes. When I got to Lake Ontario, I swam in it as a tribute to my mom." She says she's a "stubborn Indian. One time I just wrapped up my leg and walked on it. It was probably broken" and she really dislikes the "white-man-canned food" that is much of what foodbanks are able to provide. Can't disagree with her on that one, but we can only give out what we've received.
They appreciate the kindness of strangers. Recently, someone brought them home-cooked hamburgers complete with all the toppings. Someone else brought blankets.
There's one man who they say, "has a bit of a 'homeless' thing. We're not sure what to make of it." He apparently waxed eloquent about how lovely their campsite was, and how nice the view. Ned said, "I told him, you like it so much let's trade! He didn't like that."
But still, in a small town, people in general seem to be more neighbour-aware. Less afraid of others and therefore more likely to do something. Like how Enola and Ned team up with Bear, in the next tent over.
I like these people.
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