The east side of downtown Los Angeles, including the area known as Skid Row, is going through a transformation, with artists' lofts and fancy condominiums rising at a breathtaking rate.
The area is already home to thousands of homeless men and women and some of the city's poorest citizens who frequent the single-room-only (SRO) rentals, and to some of the city's largest shelter agencies and soup kitchens. It will be interesting to see what develops as investors and builders who pay and charge $500,000 (or more) for a loft or condo meet the harsh reality of poverty --- the smell of urine and vomit on the sidewalks, the homeless in the doorways.
In the meantime, a friend of mine, an immigrant from El Salvador, has started up a small business in this up-and-coming area. She and her husband noticed that there are no car washes in downtown L.A, where new housing construction comes with parking for the yet-to-come new owners' cars. So she and her husband have rented a corner lot (once a small parking lot) and have started a car wash business.
They are having some small success in getting customers. Many of the people, who work in the government buildings nearby, come to her car wash early in the morning, and she and her husband find places to park their cars during the day, or return them to a pre-designated spot after they are clean. She has been making deals with some of the local car rental places, and --- using a lot of that ingenuity so often found in our newest immigrants --- I have no doubt she is going to make a success of her little venture.
This woman also works with me at a free clinic. She had the idea that one of the clinic's programs for the homeless could sell food and drink at her car wash and make a little money for the program. The director of the homeless program thought the idea was a good one, so a group of volunteers went down to the car wash and began grilling hot dogs, selling chips and drinks.
The director of the program is well known by many of the homeless who frequent the area, so when they saw him, they began congregating around the gates of the lot. "Hey!" they called. "How about washing my feet?" It was a joke, you see, as they were watching men polish tires on cars.
The director joined in on the joke. "Sure," he said. He asked my friend if he could borrow a bucket, some soap and water, and some towels. The mobile health van of the clinic was parked nearby, so a few of the volunteers went and grabbed some medicated ointments and clean socks that are routinely distributed to the homeless.
Out on the sidewalk --- in the shadow of luxury apartments being constructed --- he placed a bench and a footstool. He grabbed a bucket of warm sudsy water, a bucket of clean water, some towels, and sat down on the stool.
The homeless man who had made the joking suggestion sat down on the bench and had his feet bathed and dried. Another volunteer rubbed in salve on cracks and sores, and let the man put on clean socks. The next homeless man sat down. Clean water was hauled, and the process was repeated. All afternoon, as downtown workers drove their cars in for a washing, homeless men and women sat down on the bench to have their feet washed.
I don't know how much money the clinic made selling food that afternoon. I don't know how much money my friend made washing cars. I do know that dozens of homeless men and women went to sleep that night with clean feet and, hopefully, with painful foot muscles massaged and relaxed.
I also know the tired group of volunteers who washed their brothers' and sisters' feet went home with cleansed hearts. Nancy Jo Uhl is a parishioner at Annunciation Church, Arcadia, and works for the Hollywood Sunset Free Clinic in Silver Lake. A widow and mother, she is a candidate for religious life with the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur.
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