| NIMBY'ism IN EUGENE, PART FIVE |
| John and I spent the last week of June and almost the entire month of July camping in the woods southwest of Eugene. It was a pleasant respite from the hassles of the city and being the despised class of "homeless campers" on the streets. But this respite could not last forever. In some ways it was simply too impractical being that far from town, and John thought I would be better off where I was free to do all my business on foot instead of depending on him for all my transportation needs. When we were in the woods I couldn't even do such a simple thing as mail a letter without him having to drive all the way to Veneta where the nearest mailbox was. Also, the prospect of moving back to town seemed a little less scary than it had a month ago. Although the campers' fate had not yet been decided, the excitement had died down and it did not appear that there would be any more major violence. So the idea eventually crystallized in his mind that it was time for us to relocate back to industrial West Eugene and rejoin that little community of campers. Our "vacation" had come to an end. The buzz from downtown was that a new plan was being cooked up for the campers, one that would give relief to a token few of us while giving more grief to the rest. A few spaces in parking lots had been set aside where people with vehicles could park for an unspecified length of time, with city-issued permits. But for the remainder of the homeless who would not be able to get such slots, the penalties for street camping would be increased" heavier fines and greater certainty of their vehicles getting booted, towed and impounded--and even jailing the "offenders" The impound fees would increase while they were in jail and unable to retrieve their vehicles. This was nothing short of outrageous. But in a way it wasn't surprising that all the NIMBY hysteria that had been building up over the course of the year would end like this. I had known back in November 1977 that the people who were rejoicing that the camping ban was finally "broken" had let their guards down too much. There was nothing to stop the city from reversing that decision later on. The provision allowing streetside camping in industrial zones had been a temporary experiment, a compromise made by the city in response to the pressure from activists who were threatening civil disobedience. The Homeless Action Coalition (HAC) had actually given CD training to a number of people who had pledged to take action if something wasn't done to provide the homeless with a legal place to camp for the winter. When the city granted the temporary amendment to the camping ban that did allow industrial zone camping, it took the wind right out of the protesters' sails. Now that the provision was set to be revoked at the end of September and replaced by an even harsher law, it would seem that civil disobedience should once again be on the HAC's agenda. But where were the people who had been pledged to perform such actions the previous fall? They seemed to have vanished, and the HAC people had lost their phone numbers. OOPS!! John decided it was time to "fire off another letter to the Register-Guard " to signal our alarm and disgust with the city for this deplorable new plan. So I put my literary skills back to work, composing a letter that expressed our thoughts, and we both signed it. But this act alone wasn't enough to quench his fear. He kept having visions of me getting a camping citation and being sentenced to roadcrew. The jail didn't have room for all the homeless and we couldn't afford to pay those fines, so he imagined we would be sentenced to do "community service" (which amounts to slave labor) in massive numbers as part of this new crackdown.There was less danger of him getting a ticket, as he could jump into his rig and drive away at the drop of a hat. But I was more vulnerable, not being able to drive. He began putting more pressure on me to get my driver's permit. He had given me a few unofficial driving lessons while we were in the woods, but he was now insisting that I become "legal" since we were back in town. During this time we were moving around to the different streets in the area, about once every couple of days. We were also getting the "fish eye" from passing police cruisers more often than before, as part of the fallout from the violent incidents earlier that summer when we hadn't been around. This certainly did nothing to alleviate our stress or put our relationship on more stable ground. John went to the monthly HAC meeting on August 10, to learn more about the campers' prospects for the future and also to loudly voice his concern about the increased penalties in the new ordinance. He found that he was not the only one present at the meeting to voice such a concern. But for some reason he didn't feel very reasssured by the responses he got, about consulting with the ACLU and other human rights attorneys to see what was wrong with the new law. He also learned more about the new program, which would include not only securing as many legal camping spaces as possible by October 1st, but also hiring John "Mac" McFadden as a facilitator to run interference between the cops, NIMBY's and homeless. He was very dubious about the feasibility of this plan, thinking, "How can one person alone possibly troubleshoot for 2,000 homeless people all at once?!" So he came back with a very sombre report on the meeting. He didn't feel that the voicing of his worries had made any impact, and he saw little hope for our future in the new arrangement. He started saying it was time to "head for the hills" again. I was not at all eager to repeat the process we had gone through in June to move both of our rigs back up there. It didn't feel right to me and I thought he was panicking unnecessarily. But the next thing I knew, he was picking up his personal gear from my camper in preparation to leave. He had been in the middle of cooking dinner on my propane stove while I was sitting at the table, and suddenly he had shifted gears and was back in the "travel" mode. So his solution this time was merely to take himself back to the woods and leave me here to fend for myself the way I'd done before I ever met him. I was quite stunned at this sudden turn of events for which I had not been at all prepared. But I told myself it might just be a case of the August doldrums and he would cool down before too long. My camper was now parked on Sixth Ave. just west of Bertelson Road, with absolutely no shade to give relief from the devastating August heat. There were some nice blackberry bushes nearby, though. (click here for next page) |