Hope Amid the Homeless on Modesto’s Mean Streets

As I was waiting for a bus last Sunday at the downtown transit center, an elderly man, using a walker loaded with what looked like his belongings, was denied access to a bus. The man stood there on this grey windy afternoon, shouting furiously at the bus driver at the injustice of denying him service, correctly noting — in my estimation — that some bus drivers allow carts larger than his walker. Even as a freight train thundered by, this fellow’s righteous roaring could be heard from one end of the passenger platform to the other.

“You are denying access to a disabled person,” the man shouted one last time, while several nearby passengers sat on benches, heads bowed, mouthing quieting, “Yeah, Yeah, Go for it!” Ultimately, though, it was all to no avail.

As the bus he wanted to board rolled out of the parking lot, the fellow spoke to a Stan RTA official who quoted something about Stan RTA policy regarding the size of walkers and the man shook his head. I lost track of him at that point and can only imagine that he eventually must have slowly wheeled his walker away from the transit center, destination unknown.

It was another sad moment out on Modesto’s mean streets — but only one of many I have wandered upon over the span of these last many months when I am out getting a few groceries or stopping for coffee in a restaurant — both of which involve taking the bus and doing a lot of walking. The evidence that a growing number of people in our community are living in misery can be found strewn up and down McHenry Avenue, where I frequently catch buses, and on Coffee Road near where I live. Last year, we experienced several damaging atmospheric rivers, and while Modesto has not received as much rain this year as it did in 2022-2023, the winter and early spring storms seemed to have wrought greater havoc on those of our neighbors who are unhoused.

This is purely anecdotal, but I’ve run across far more abandoned walkers, sleeping bags, drenched remnants of sweaters, shoes, socks, and sometimes even old duffel bags this year than I did a year ago, left out by bus stops, busy intersections, or piled up among bushes by strip centers.  These are cries for help, left unheard — or so it seems, as passing traffic roars by the disabled and the unhoused-on Modesto’s busy thoroughfares.

I admit that I have been feeling more than a little despair for Modesto these days. In many ways, the city seems to be enjoying a blush of prosperity — new businesses are opening and succeeding, the arts scene is thriving. The community is out and about on the weekends, taking in the Pollinators’ Festival or planning for Love Modesto activities. Don’t get me wrong — these are all good things. I fear, though, that with each year, a growing number of our neighbors are suffering, and that their suffering is becoming almost invisible to the rest of us.

Dostoevsky once wrote that “Man grows used to everything, the scoundrel!   I think it’s true that even good people can fall prey to becoming desensitized to suffering — there is so much of it in the world, it’s almost as if it’s too hard for us to accept that it’s happening so close to us, that lives are being lost every day, sometimes within a stone’s throw of where we live. It’s so close to us, our inclination, after a time, is to feel nothing at all —to look the other way. But, if we look the other way once too often, it’s the bullies who’ll take over.

“You’ll have to figure this out like everybody else. Everybody else can do it so can you.”

The woman cupped one of her ears with her hand, as if to indicate she was deaf, but that didn’t seem to have any effect on the driver. When other passengers spoke up for the struggling woman, the driver snapped again,

“She needs to figure this out like everybody else.”

At the very least, an abundance of patience was called for in this situation — and kindness, too — neither of which the driver showed that day.

I reported this incident to Stan RTA but have yet to hear back. While most of the Stan RTA bus drivers are courteous and professional, and many are very cordial and friendly, there have been instances where some drivers have acted in a surly or contemptuous way toward passengers, particularly the disabled, the elderly, and the homeless. It just isn’t right, and something I never saw or experienced myself with MAX. To see such behavior crop up now under the new bus system has been quite disheartening, since so many people in our community depend upon public transportation to get where they need to go.

There have been other instances where Modesto generally hasn’t seemed as friendly or welcoming a place as it was a few years ago, and that is troubling.  But all of this comes most sharply into focus in the way the disabled and the unhoused are too often abused or harassed while on our streets and buses, their needs neglected.

Then, something happened a few days ago that brought a smile to my face and renewed my spirit. I was walking along McHenry Avenue when I saw what I thought was an abandoned cart full of clothes. But as I was taking a photo of the cart, I saw that its owner was sitting beside it, and seemingly waking up. I walked up to him, and we chatted for a couple of minutes. He said that the cold nights we’ve been experiencing have been tough and I commiserated with him about that.  Before we parted, I gave him a few dollars, and we wished each other well.

I only mention the money because of what happened next. I continued walking down McHenry, maybe a couple hundred yards, headed first to Panera’s and coffee, then on to Safeway to pick up a couple things for dinner. But right before I got to the corner of McHenry & Bowen, a husband and his wife stopped me and asked for directions to the nearest bus stop – and while I was doing that, a gentleman walked out of the parking lot bordering that corner and threw something in the canvas bag I always carry with me. Before I could react one way or another, he had walked away, but I looked and saw at least a dollar bill and a little change sitting there in the canvas bag beside the book I planned to read with my coffee.

At that point, I was thinking, “what the heck?”

When I got to Panera’s I discovered the guy had given me three one-dollar bills, a dime, and a few pennies. You just never know what’s going to happen next, or, particularly in this instance, why.

But then I gave it some thought.  Perhaps this generous soul thought he was taking pity on an old fogey walking stiffly with a cane, or perhaps he had seen me from a distance when I handed the money to the fellow with the cart — I’ll never know, and it doesn’t matter. Whatever the man’s motivation may have been, he was showing kindness toward a stranger.

Almost out of nowhere people keep surprising me and giving me hope. We still have miles to go before we sleep – but it’s good to know empathy is alive and well in our fair city, though it, too, has miles to go before it can rest.