Turns out the guy has picked the lock, and made it his home: bedroll, pictures, personal items.
This breaks my heart. I can only imagine what it's like to have to sleep on a cold concrete floor every night, let alone park bench or a sidewalk. At the same time, should something happen in that boiler room. it affects the whole building, and the tennants in it.
We will change the lock on the boiler room door to a deadbolt, perhaps put a gate in the passageway leading to it as well.
But first we will also box up his belongings. I will put a few bucks in an envelope, along with a note explaining why he needs to move on.
Like most homeless, he's not on the street (or in the boiler room) by choice. He's there because, somewhere along the line, he's had a fall from grace. Maybe mental health issues are involved. If so, I truly feel for him, because the governmental safety net for the mentally ill is broken in too many ways.
He is someone's son. Perhaps, someone's brother, father, or uncle or nephew.
He cannot deal with his problems. And his family is probably brokenhearted about it andworried about him, but also weary of the burden of carrying him.
Out of sight, but truly out of mind? We all know that's not the case.
He is the ghost of failure: not his own, but ours, as a society.
He is one of us.
We need to fix it. Whether we want to believe so or not, it is a reflection on each of us