Signs of the times

I have always loved my neighbourhood for its diversity of residents, workers and visitors. Originally a poor working-class inner city suburb, and largely industrial, it has over time given way to migrant families with front gardens full of vegetables rather than flowers, artists looking for affordable space in which to work, and young urban professionals who fancy the cool edginess of it all. Cafes, bookshops and uber cool restaurants have moved in and our neighbourhood is slowly changing.

When I first moved in heroin was cheap, readily available and it’s users highly visible on the street. Needles were often left on our doorstep, and frequently littered the gutters. The users were a part of our community, and for the most part either walked the streets, or sat nodding off on street benches. They in no way ever threatened us or our sense of safety. I have always felt that witnessing that part of our community put my daughter in good stead, and it has. She is street-wise, safe and smart. At nineteen she is often offered an array of drugs at parties and clubs, and any parent that thinks this does not happen is deluding themselves. Unlike some of her friends who have lead more sheltered lives, she has no desire to take part in it.

For whatever reason, the last ten years or so the users, along with the needles, have for the large part, disappeared from our neighbourhood. Possibly the methadone programs available have provided an alternate solution, rent and housing prices have gone up, or it’s just been too expensive or hard to get. I don’t know. What I do know is that this week I have noticed a return of the spaced-out wandering our streets, and the occasional needle in the laneways. Is there a parallel to the slow recovery from the GFC? Is heroin plentiful and cheap again? Is it the thought of the holiday season looming, or is life just getting too hard?

Today I saw one of our regular homeless men wandering in the street, rake-thin, dishevelled and out of it. I was saddened to see him in this state as he’s always been a bit of a curious hero to me. He is handsome, cheeky, smart, and has a devilish smile. If there were a film made of his life, Johnny Depp would play his role. For years he has taken it upon himself to collect rubbish in our streets, bagging it and binning it like a man possessed, his only reward the occasional bit of spare change from a passer-by. If you stopped and talked to him, it was always a treat, listening to his views on politics, philosophy and music. Once I saw him drive past in a convertible sports car with the top down, and grinning from ear to ear. As I said, he is a curious man. Seeing him today so thin, so out of it prompted me to write this post. As I watched him barely managing to walk a straight line, he stopped to pick up a stray leaf from the road, and put it in his pocket. Bless him.

And for the record, yes I remain smitten with the lodger.