OPINION: A Christmas week story in Cuddy Park

There’s a delightful recent New York Times article titled “It’s My Party and I’ll Read If I Want To” by Molly Young. The concept of the story: Twenty- and thirty-somethings gather in warm and comfy places with couches and chairs, maybe a fireplace, lamps … and they read a book they brought with them for 30 minutes. Then they stop and talk with a stranger about what they’ve read, and the other person does the same. There were pictures showing handsome young people quietly enjoying each other’s company.

So when a young friend of mine called me to say he was buying $200 worth of hamburgers to pass out to homeless people and he needed some help, I wasn’t expecting to find any correspondence between this article and the experience I was about to have with my friend.

I met him at the McDonald’s there at Northern Lights and Arctic Boulevard. He piled four big grocery bags full of paper-wrapped hamburgers into the back seat. We went downtown to the transit station first, and a few folks were there — all super-appreciative when they took a hamburger or two. Inside the arctic entry to City Hall, there were a few more hungry people. Two small, somewhat frail-looking older Alaska Native women were especially grateful and kept repeating their blessings on us.

We went to Cuddy Park, where a young Muni worker was sweeping the entryway into the area where all the old vans, RVs, cars and a couple of very shoddy-looking tent structures were. He asked us if we were there for “the Library event.” “No,” we said, “We have a bunch of hamburgers for the folks here. Want one?” “What kind?” “McDonalds.” “Sure. Thanks!” And he took a couple and smiled.

We parked the car and walked into this strange village. Four young people living in an old 12-passenger van were happy to see us and thankful. Another group of people in an old house trailer were very glad to accept hamburgers and also very thankful. A young woman, no more than 30 years old and more beat-up than anyone I’ve come close to that I can remember, smiled through her cut, bruised face and said “Thank you,” when I gave her a couple. My friend went one way, I went another, and we soon were down to just a few burgers each. I knocked on the makeshift wooden door to another patched-up old RV and after a few minutes, a young tousle-haired man opened the door. There was confusion on his face, then acceptance, then a small smile of thanks as I handed him two, then four, then he turned and asked “Who else?” back into the darkness, and I handed him four more, the end of my bag.

I tell you all this because virtually all of the people we saw at Cuddy Park looked to be the same age and ethnicities as those handsome young people in “It’s My Party.” All of them were 35 or younger, handsome even in their condition — and while it certainly made us feel good to see the smiles, the thankfulness in the faces of these folks, it also just made us much more aware of their plight. They’re so young!

What happened in their lives to bring them here to Cuddy Park instead of to that warm living room with couches and chairs, maybe a fireplace, lamps?

John Blaine is an Anchorage resident and longtime Alaskan.

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