Miracle on McAllister St.
As I’ve stated dozens of times (on countless grant proposals, for one) this magazine is half about the finished product and half about the process. And as a writer in the thick of researching my story, I am in the midst of some serious processing. Despite my being editor-in-chief of a non-profit magazine focusing on the social work community, and despite that I was raised by a social worker and a theologist (who met and fell in love working a library for the deaf-blind), I am far from the bleeding heart one might suspect. I have lived my time in San Francisco between the Mission and the Tenderloin, sidestepping human feces and getting a daily tutorial in the buying, selling and utilizing of crack, stolen goods and sexual services. This has seriously affected my empathies and my opinions. Let me get this out in the open right away: I call the cops on folks sleeping in my doorway and I never give spare change. So when I decided that for my next story I would embed myself with San Francisco’s Homeless Outreach Team (HOT), I knew it would provide some serious food for thought. My blog for the next few weeks will follow my train of honest-as-possible thoughts and experiences working along members of HOT and getting to know some of their clients. Because I envision my final story for the magazine as a more journalistic piece, I feel this is the perfect place to air the process. And isn’t the internet supposed to be slightly offensive? Next time: My First Time—Outreach in My Own Front Yard (or Expanse of Concrete).
