Sleepless in D.C.

I'm sleepless in this town.

I've tried beer, late-night snacks, books, TV. Nothing seems to help. As soon as my head hits the pillow, my mind starts reeling.

I can't stop thinking about the men and women who sleep on park benches, nap under the sign at the Catholic church next-door, rest in the park all day long.

I think there's a homeless shelter nearby, or at least it used to be one. I read an article about its impending closure, but couldn't find a date. As the summer heats up, the shelter's windows open and I can see bunk beds inside. Tonight, a security guard watched over the place. Maybe it isn't closed yet.

Across from the shelter is a park, where this weekend several dozen people made it their home. I think it's their territory. I haven't read anything making it official. But I walk by there every day, whether it's on my way to work or for a run. They're always there.

I can't shake the images. Several people asked me if I had culture shock moving here from Minnesota. I thought it was a silly question and still do. I moved to the coast, not another part of the world, which, by the way, I've done before and didn't experience significant culture shock.

But every day I see them. When I go home at night, ready to unwind, you'd think I'd forget. But I don't. I remember the person who every early evening can be found just down the street. I recall the woman in her lawnchair, petting a stranger's dog this morning.

I want to know their stories, what circumstances and choices in their life brought them to this place. Maybe it's the journalist in me.

Yesterday, I pulled articles off the Internet about homelessness in D.C. What I found were stories of despair, kitchens that were no longer serving, downtown shelters closing.

I learned they have a newspaper, called Street Sense, where they earn and give their two cents, or something like that. They pay 25 cents for the paper and re-sell it for a $1, making a hefty profit, depending on the number of sales. It's filled with their stories and poems.

IThese cheap words do nothing for the people I see on the streets of D.C. every day. But selfishly, I hope they help me get some sleep tonight.