A Narrative Essay About The Homeless

I had never really cared about the homeless. I mean, I decorated the occasional brown paper bag, and had made enough “You are strong!” cards to last a lifetime. I cared enough to put effort into my artwork, but everything I did was detached to a certain extent. I knew that not everyone was fortunate enough to live like I did, but had never met a real homeless person; my only knowledge of the subject was what mainstream media had taught me: homeless people were everywhere, and needed our help. As I entered middle school, there was more of a need to help the community, but there was never a personal connection; we would collect money for soldiers, but since I had no personal connection, I wasn’t really concerned. Looking back, I realize

My mom and I would stay up and discuss politics, and I took interest in the changing world around me. This was when I began to understand the importance of community service; the crushing reality that our country was so far from perfect astounded me. I felt morally obligated help fix the broken world in which I lived-- and still continue to live-- in, whatever it took. Around that time, a woman named Anna Landgrebe became public about her non-profit organization Homeless Bus. She and her husband-- Mark Landgrebe-- had been driving out into the city feeding the homeless for over 20 years. They had been just gone public about their operation, and a flood of support from my community helped peak my interest. Conveniently enough, I had to take up a community service project for my temple youth group, so I sent Anna an email asking what I could do and how I could help her. Her answer was surprising; she asked me to visit the following Saturday, and in the meantime set up collection boxes for white tube socks. White tube socks? I was shocked-- I could help support the homeless of New York City by collecting white tube socks? Why wasn’t everyone as invested in helping those around them if it was really that