I was gratified to read that Terry Reed, the panhandler sensitively portrayed by Dan Rodricks, has a roof over his head every night ("Terry Reed, that man on President Street," Dec. 21). Yet I was disturbed by the growing number of deaths among homeless people, despite Baltimore's 10-year plan to end homelessness. People become homeless for many reasons — loss of jobs, relationships and minds — but no matter what the reason, we too often avert our eyes.
I'm reminded of a 2007 Sun feature about a now-defunct homeless encampment beneath the Jones Falls Expressway. Photographer Jed Kirschbaum spoke movingly of balancing the need to take pictures for the story while at the same time respecting the dignity of his subjects.
He also recalled a previous cold, Christmas Day, when he saw "three homeless people taking their overcoats off and handing them to one another. They put on one another's coats, which made me curious enough to ask them why. They said the only things they had to give each other were the jackets on their backs."
Whether you celebrate the holidays or not it's impossible not to be deeply affected by that exchange of gifts. Those three souls gave each other the most valuable thing they had and maybe their only shelter.
For most of us, our homes are our most valuable possessions. They are our sanctuaries, the places where we feel comfortable, safe, warm and — if we're lucky — loved. Being homeless is an unimaginable predicament few of us will ever experience.
Baltimore City may always be home to the poorest among us, but I pray that for each and every one of us home will one day mean a shelter that is more than cots and coats and cardboard shanties.
Donna Beth Joy Shapiro
Stories of the homeless at Christmas touch our hearts
Terry Reed, 46, a well-known panhandler in downtown Baltimore, is recovering from an infection at Union Memorial Hospital. Reed was born without forearms and legs below his knees, and uses prosthetics. (Amy Davis, Baltimore Sun)