A Story on the Suffering of One, and the Celebration Of Many

Do Not Rejoice When Your Enemy Falls — It Could Happen to Any of Us

They demolished our neighbor’s house this week.

Bright and early Monday morning, equipment started up…as did yelling from the top of the roof. The owner had an old stadium megaphone — one with six speakers — and was yelling “HELP!” from the top of his house.

This was after he had painted “HELP” on the side of the shack he built and was living out of in his front yard.

He didn’t know they were coming to take his home and once he found out, he also painted something along the lines of “this is illegal and wrong” on the side of the house.

Construction workers laughed at his efforts from the side, while the police chief made his way up on the roof to have a conversation with him.

Some history on the matter

For the past seven years, the owner of the home — let’s call him “L” for the sake of privacy — has been cited more than half a dozen times for violating the city’s property maintenance ordinance.

In 2019, the city had already spent roughly $5,600 cleaning up the property. The amount of trash inside and outside of the home was said to be a safety hazard, causing problems like a mice infestation in the neighborhood.

I wasn’t living here at the time, but my boyfriend said at one point, residents of the home had to crawl through the window because of how much trash was surrounding their doors.

The real issue isn’t how the property has reflected the city, it’s how it’s impacted neighbors. Over the years, L hasn’t been the only one living there. He’s had friends facing addictions (like himself) in and out, with his on-and-off girlfriend being the most frequent visitor.

Due to no running water or sewage, there have been times they’ve burnt their feces in the backyard for the entire neighborhood to smell. There have been fights nonstop…so much so that sitting outside our own home became unenjoyable.

Before I moved in, my partner would let them come over and get water anytime they needed it. He would give them clothes and other hand-me-downs. He was a friend to them in a world where everyone else had abandoned them. That is until they burnt a bridge with him too.

It’s hard to keep giving to those who take advantage of your kindness through unchanged actions and what seemed like, no respect for the neighborhood.

We have still done our best to be there for the couple, reminding ourselves that addiction and a long list of mental illnesses don’t set anyone up for success.

So, we’ve given cans and bottles, had conversations with the couple, and have checked in with them. One day, my boyfriend asked them angrily after another fight, “WHAT DO YOU NEED? Obviously, if you guys are yelling like this, there is something you need that you’re not getting. Is it a job? Food?Money? Rehab? What is it?!”

They couldn’t answer him, but he told them to come and let him know once they knew, and he would do his best to make it happen.

And he meant it.

A “chronic neighborhood nuisance”

The idea of tearing down the residence started after the property was deemed a “chronic neighborhood nuisance,” and an inspection was done by officials who declared the residence unsafe.

When L didn’t present a plan to make repairs or dismantle the property himself, the City did.

On Monday morning, a local contracting company showed up to remove the home, neighbors gathered, and a circus of people arrived from all corners of the city to celebrate the day. Photos were being taken, smiles were exchanged, and cars were stopping until the project was completed. Cars are still stopping. They’ve been stopping. Even before the start of the dismantle — when L was still living in his front yard, and out of the shack he built on the side of the road — people would get out and snap photos. They’d peek around, show facial expressions of disbelief, and judge. That’s really what it comes down to.

Get the f*ck off my lawn!

The first day of the project left my partner and me feeling unwell. It was emotional to not only watch L call for help from the roof of his house but to see others cheerfully gathering with a cup of coffee in their hand.

No, we didn’t agree with the way he lived his life, but this was his home, and to the rest of the world, it had become nothing more than trash.

I felt guilty just for going out to water my flowers while across the street, someone’s belongings were being tossed away like nothing. The shack — although cheap— was something he spent weeks building just so he could rest his head. I’ll be honest, we laughed and called it a spaceship a couple of times when we’d hear him hammering all hours of the day. “Oh, L’s working on his spaceship again.”

But to see it be crushed in a garbage can with the rest of his home, was sad.

Thank God, officers set aside some of his stuff; a couple of totes, stacks of records, a jacket. Still, it was hard to watch. I tried not to. I tried to just work through it, and even leave at times.

On the second day of the project, I called my partner at work and told him I was going to lose it on the groups of people (aside from the cop) loitering on our lawn. He said I had total authority to do that but suggested I instead, try sharing my feelings on the matter in a respectful way. I knew I’d get too emotional. The night before, I broke down talking to my mom about it all.

That’s when I decided to go to a yoga class and breathe. Thankfully when I came back, no one was on the lawn.

I’m not mad at the city

What happened to our neighbor and has been happening, is not the city’s fault. It’s not even L’s fault.

In my opinion, Oregon (the state I live in) and the government as a whole, are responsible for the disturbance of this series of events. The way our society currently runs leaves very little room and money to support those battling a mental illness or addiction.

I’ve heard story after story, of addicts going to rehab and being booted out a few days later from a lack of space. So, instead of them being given the time to fully detox, they are thrown back into the streets at their weakest, only to relapse and continue being controlled by their addiction.

It makes me wonder how much money we’ve thrown away, teasing — and not truly helping — others.

When it comes to mental health, police officers, for example, will make comments about how they can’t force someone to get help. But what about in situations like this one? Why do we have to let it get to this point before stepping in and saying, “Hey, obviously this person isn’t able to function in society, and/or make the best decisions for themselves. Let’s get them help — help they might know or think they need — before they destroy their life, or better yet, watch their home be destroyed in front of them.”

What happened this week did nothing more than leave L worse off than he was before. It's a far stretch to think this is the “wake-up call” he needed.

Involuntary treatment could have prevented this

According to the Treatment Advocacy Center, 46 states have authorized three types of involuntary mental health treatment that can be court-ordered.

So why was this step not taken, or am I missing something?

I’m still doing my research and trying to understand how laws on this subject work, but I can’t help but think this situation called for involuntary drug or mental health treatment which could’ve prevented a lot of this from happening.

“How can we involuntarily throw someone in prison, but not force them into treatment when they are very clearly unable to care for themselves?” Asked my partner.

Final thoughts

My partner and I both are tired of people saying things like, “I bet you are happy!”

The truth is, we are sad that this is the way the world currently works.

We wish people like L had more focused and effective care.

We are grieving the loss — not because we aren’t glad to have some peace and quiet in the neighborhood — but because it’s a humble reminder of the similar situation any of us could be in, at any moment.

People are being deceived by their own ego, as they walk around with their noses up like, “That would never be me.”

No one is as in control as they think they are.

There is a way to express gratitude quietly…but to rejoice loudly in the suffering of others is not okay and does not make you any better than the poor, wicked, and lowly.

Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles (Proverbs 24:17).

Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye (Matthew 7:1–6).

Last night, I saw L out in the dirt pile that used to be his home. I forgot to mention at the beginning of this story that he inherited the home from family who passed. I believe it was his father. And if I’m not mistaken, he lost both his father and brother back-to-back.

A storm was rolling in and L was rummaging through what was left of the place, his head hanging heavy.

I brought him over a beer and asked how he was. He didn’t say much and looked like he was on the brink of tears. I told him I was sorry for everything he was going through and asked if he needed anything.

“Not that I can think of,” he told me.

I know if that were me, there’s a long list of things I’d need. But not L. He was content with the offering of a cold beer. Based on previous experiences, I have a sense that accepting help is not something he’s comfortable with.

Nevertheless, I told him to let us know if he changed his mind.

“We’re here for you,” I said.

And I meant it.

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