Homeless Camp - Burlington Free Press
On a down note, I went back to the old skateboard park today. The city vehicles that were parked there a couple of days ago are gone. I wanted to see if I could go down there and smoke a cigar and listen to the Detroit Tiger games, like I did in the summer 2022. Just scouting it out today, though, because I did not have a cigar with me, just wanted to scope it out for the future. There is a wonderful shade tree by the retaining wall that is perfect to set up under and relax and unwind, completely protected from the hot afternoon sun.
The old skateboard park is about fifty yards removed from the Burlington Greenway, our jewel of a path that stretches from south Burlington to the cut on Colchester Causeway. I turned the wheel, veered off the bike path, and slid onto what remains of a gravel trail that bisects a large field and dead ends at a concrete breaker wall; this wall, covered in chaotic graffiti, protects the coast from the erosive action of the pounding waves that smash into that part of the shoreline during every storm.
Old skateboard park 2022
Cigar smoker’s tool kit 2022
What I found is so disappointing. By that I mean, my disappointment is in my fellow citizens, men and women. Me included. The old park, once filled with young wannabe athletes, is a homeless camp now. The detritus of substance abuse poverty is strewn across the cement tarmac, it looks like a strong wind blew through the camp and scattered the garbage of their day-to-day lives everywhere. A dilapidated tent is hidden from the view of bicyclers and pedestrians alike as they travel on the Greenway. No one seems to ride the path. None ever did while I sat there and listened to baseball game, after baseball game. None followed me today, either. The camp is shielded by the scrub and tall grass. The tent looks lived in - situated off the concrete apron, in the shade, obscured from view.
People, locals and tourists, steadily stream by the gravel path, oblivious and unaware that directly on the other side of the short and wiry trees, mere yards away, are the wrecked lives of people stoned and hungry, suspended, frozen, in their anguish. The gravel path, perpendicular to the paved bike path, separates the skateboard park on one side from a copse of trees on the other side that leads down to the water's edge. A group of tents is nestled into the woods, also shaded, bordering on the tall uncut grass that runs alongside the gravel pathway. They look occupied, too.
But for the grace of God go I - so, I need to find somewhere else to smoke a cigar and listen to the Tigers in peace - in my safe world; it is too depressing there. And, sorry, I do not have any answers.
