As we strolled along the sandy path towards San Clemente beach, our happy little holiday smiles quickly faded.
Just yards to our right a young, weather-beaten, wild-eyed and deeply troubled young man was ranting and raving at passers by.
My legs turned to jelly as I ushered my teenage sons past him, urging them not to look at him or say anything.
Yet even this enraged him. And he let out a tirade of abuse, cursing us for being rude for not listening to his “speech”.
It was just a few days into our long-awaited trip to California.
But amid this glossiest of existences, you’re never too far from the gritty realities of life for America’s poor and vulnerable.
In 2020 there were an estimated 160,000 homeless people living in California. Among them addiction is rife.
That seemed to be the case for this young man, trapped in his own never-ending nightmare and spending his days wandering alone, shouting, ranting and flailing aimlessly.
In that frightening moment on the beach path I was reminded of the last time I’d seen someone in such a sorry state.
A sorry encounter on the streets of Dundee
It was just a year ago on Reform Street in Dundee city centre, where I had to swerve sharply to avoid a man who was fighting with thin air.
Most frightening of all was his complete obliviousness to reality.
I wondered how it was possible for someone to get into such a state.
And as I hurried past the young man on the beach in California I asked much the same thing.
How has it come to this? Why is this young man drifting alone, out of control and with seemingly no one caring or prepared to help?
A few days later, I got some insight.
Street scene told me about homelessness and drug addiction in California
I was the first to wake in our holiday rental home. So I got myself a coffee and went to sit out on the balcony.
Just as soon as I did I became aware of a commotion out on the street.
It was too far to hear. But I saw a young man in the middle of the road fighting to get his sweatshirt off.
When he finally managed to remove it he flung it angrily to the ground.
His extreme level of agitation reminded me of the guy from the beach. And that’s when I realised it was the same man.
A car was parked just next to him. And standing by it were a middle aged man and woman who were clearly trying to coax him to go with them.
Just a few yards up the street was a shopping trolley with his belongings piled haphazardly inside.
He began to pace between the car and the trolley, shouting and cursing as he did.
He threw an empty can of beer he had just finished over a fence. This was 7.30am in the morning.
Torn between his family and his demons
The man and the woman, who I guessed were his parents, stayed by their vehicle watching him.
Each time he approached the car they would try a few more words of persuasion.
Finally he began to pluck some belongings out of the trolley and threw them towards the open boot.
My heart lifted because it looked like he was going to leave with them – hopefully to be taken to safety and help.
I ran inside to get my glasses so I could see more clearly what was going on. And when I returned just a minute or so later the car had gone.
And then the saddest sight of all.
Just when I thought this young man’s story could have taken a turn for the better he emerged from behind a tree and began throwing his few belongings back in the trolley, still shouting and cursing as he went.
He wouldn’t or couldn’t go with the people who were trying to help him.
I could tell he had been torn. But I suspect his fear of having to go without whatever was driving his addiction was too great
I watched as he lurched off into the heat of the day.
California not alone in dealing with homelessness and drug addiction
I’ll never know what came first, the addiction or the mental health breakdown.
But before my eyes the nameless monster on the path suddenly became someone’s vulnerable son.
He’s likely still wandering out there, shouting into the wind and lost in some horrendous cycle of drugs, drink and hopelessness.
The failure to invest adequately in intervention and support services manifests in front of our eyes every day.
It’s happening in California. It’s happening in Dundee. And it’s happening everywhere.
And now I’m reminded that every nameless ‘crazy person’ is someone’s vulnerable son or daughter in desperate need of help.
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