New York City, September 2000 We had been planning this trip for some time. My mom and I would travel to New Jersey every two years or so to visit family, drive by our childhood homes and neighborhoods, and eat the most amazing food in the country. Call us biased,
It has been 22 years since that typical morning in September. The world was moving along as it always had, with people getting up and going to work and school, boarding airplanes for long-awaited vacations, grabbing coffee in the shadows of the World Trade Center before heading up the elevators,
I watch the lone shadowy figure clad in black garments cross the third fence. He’s less than thirtyfive feet from our position. He has now entered our kill zone according to the guidelines from Control. “Waste him,” Sergeant Adams whispers. “What?” I flinch, turning towards him. “Why me?” I freeze, my mind suddenly blank. Sergeant Adam’s sarcastic whisper rings in my ears, “Cause it’s your turn, Newbee.”
There isn’t one person, government, parent, or entity to blame for homelessness. Homelessness results from many misfortunes, sometimes only temporary, and sometimes a state that is difficult to escape. The reasons a veteran becomes homeless are not unlike the homeless population in general. Lack of employment, lack of affordable housing, inability to access resources, mental health issues, and substance abuse issues.
A 20-passenger minibus full of local veterans crashed today, killing all – Imagine hearing that on the news every day. The public would demand to know why the buses have crashed, who is at fault, and how we fix it. When it comes to veteran suicide, we lack a definitive answer to these questions, so we continue to explore, question, and wonder what the hell is going on.
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