I don’t
remember having a book in our home as a boy until I was about seven or eight
years old (although we probably did).
But then I had a teacher in my elementary school—was it Mrs. Collins in
the 4th grade or Mrs. Phelen in the 5th?—who read to us
in class and the world opened up to me.
I soon had a
library card and I used it. . .and used it. . . and used it. Not long after
that, my Mom or Dad must have had some regrets about my education and attempted
to rectify the situation by buying for my brothers and me a brand new set of
the Encyclopaedia Britannica. The set of
scholarly volumes was for people above my age and overwhelmed me and
regretfully I hardly used it—even when I grew to be able to. But there were other books. . . .
When someone
tells me they are ‘not a reader,’ I tell them they just haven’t yet found the
right book. Ask a librarian and people who are readers for book lists and
recommendations and your life, too, will expand.
Since then I
have read literally hundreds and hundreds of books on my own as well as
probably hundreds of others in part in pursuing my formal education. I have
enjoyed many authors, been challenged and well-educated by many others, and
read some titles many more times than once.
In short, my life has been greatly enriched by those who knew much more
than me, and had the wisdom to put down in print their learning for others.
Yesterday I
finished reading a book that opened my eyes to a reality around all of us that
I had frankly given less thought than I should have. It is the true story about a homeless man
living in the Skid Row of downtown Los Angeles.
I knew that many (probably most) homeless people were on the streets
because of really poor choices in getting involved with drugs and alcohol. Some, though, have had brain trauma or
neurochemical imbalances, like Nathaniel Anthony Ayers, who is there because of
mental illness over which he has no control.
Mr. Ayers
had been a brilliant and very talented music student at the Julliard School of
Music in New York City but while there suffered a mental breakdown diagnosed as
schizophrenia. His life took a quick
turn downward. This is a condition characterized by a loss of control of
thought processes and inappropriate emotional responses. Such people are often confused, disoriented,
and their mind is cluttered with images, delusions, and thoughts over which
they have no control.
The book
(and movie which I did not see) about Nathaniel Ayers describes the profound
challenges of a person so afflicted, and the homeless—and hopeless—environment
to which so many are reduced. Ayers,
like many, never did fully recover, but his life and many others like him have
been made easier by the efforts of many good people and organizations.
If you read
this book, The Soloist, by journalist Steve Lopez, you will likely be a
changed person unless you, yourself have spent some time on the streets and
already know the plight of the homeless. It is a frank and brutal book—shocking in
places--and should increase your understanding and compassion for people who
are our community neighbors whom we often simply ignore. It will show you what you can do about mental
health problems and similar problems and what you cannot do. Many people so afflicted you cannot help, but
you will have tried and view the problem differently. And in the trying you will see that you are a
changed person for the better.