Homeless.
The word conjures up unpleasant thought-adjectives: misery, displacement, dirty, unstable, disreputable, and more. Since the Great Recession began in 2008 with the worldwide economic crash, the number of people who have been removed from their "permanent" housing dramatically increased. With that increase have come unwanted responses from communities. Laws outlawing 'living on the street' have exploded. People scorn those living in cars and vans as undesirable in "our community." Myriad photos show the misery of living in a decrepit, smelly, worn-out sleeping bag on--or in--a cardboard box over a heating vent in a large city.
The stories of these humans are heart-wrenching. A professional worked in an office for decades until his company went out of business, and he was laid off, now older and probably unemployable. A commercial bank crashes and takes a considerable part of the world economy with it, throwing hundreds of employees out of work.
The city of Detroit suffers arguably the most focused losses of all. Almost an entire auto manufacturing industry is suddenly halted, along with the many plants that created cars for the world. Overnight, parking lots are emptied, families face the ugly combination of limited skills and family entrenchment. Strong unions are weakened.
Many houses go into foreclosure, the breadwinners file bankruptcy. Those who are lucky enough relocate to live with other family members. Parents spruce up long-unused bedrooms and buy bunk beds as they welcome their adult children and grandchildren back into their house, straining their own resources and patience.
Homeless.
In the ten-plus years since then, the economy has improved while significant and often unpleasant political changes have happened. The old manufacturing base has not and will not recover; sending the work offshore is less expensive and requires lower-skilled workers in this country. Apple makes its magnificent electronic devices in massive factories in China. Cars are made in Mexico and Canada and trucked across the border to be finished in the auto industry's remains before they are sent to and sold at local dealerships. The international shipping container business has boomed as low-cost labor markets are identified, and goods are shipped to the USA.
Far less attention was paid to those on the lower end of the economic ladder. Those who lost houses and those who filed bankruptcy discovered that their ability to get a new home disappeared with their job. Underneath the headlines, an entirely new cadre of people have emerged, struggling to make ends meet while dealing with the ugliness of the Great Recession and the very personal impact on themselves. They own no house of the 'sticks-and-bricks' variety, but they are not at all homeless.
This term for this new cadre of people who do not live in traditional sticks-and-bricks houses is
Houseless
These intrepid souls are not homeless; they just do not have the traditional house they once had. They live in their cars, in retired and built-out school busses, ambulances, old vans and RVs, or any other mobile vehicle that can hold them and their meager, fully-functional belongings and keep them moving when needed. Some of them move from temporary jobs to temporary jobs, as Jessica Bruder wrote about in her marvelous book, "Nomadland."
The life they lead is not easy, dull, or in many cases, predictable. These are not campers heading out to a campground or RV park for a few days then returning to the comfort and security of their homes and jobs. Not all of the new nomads are poor, and not all of them were forced into their situation, but all of them live frugal lives necessitated by their condition. You cannot do in a 200 square foot living area what you can do in a 4-bedroom suburban house. But it does not mean life cannot be enjoyable.
Houseless. As I write these words, that is what I am.
On February 1, 2021, I closed the sale of my house in Michigan, the one place I lived in longer than any other home in my entire life, and moved into a spare bedroom in my daughter and her family's home.
The adjustment has been difficult. My son-in-law is a government contractor; we first moved into temporary quarters on the Aberdeen Proving Ground Army base in Maryland until their new house is built in another city in Maryland. For six months, the family of two adults, three children, two full-grown Great Pyrenees dogs, plus the newly-arrived grandfather will have to figure out how to keep peace in minimal space. Somehow, we all (mostly) survived.
It was not an easy task, as the arguments born out of stress leading to periods of icy silence and crying children have shown.
Thoughts of changing my current houseless condition to another one have begun to germinate in my head. But that is for another treatise.
