The image has stuck in my mind for more than 30 years.
My husband, Hooshang, and I were walking on the cliff above the ocean in Pacific Palisades Park in Santa Monica, California. That part of the park includes a sidewalk that nestles as closely to cliff’s edge as possible – with guardrails in place, of course.
The view of Santa Monica Bay was gorgeous, and we didn’t look too bad ourselves. For some reason we had dressed up. I was wearing an outfit with a hot pink cropped jacket and a black skirt that sported small white polka dots. Hooshang had on a sports coat and bolo tie – the same one he wore when we got married in Santa Fe a few months earlier.
Folks stared at us somewhat, and we never could figure it out. Did we look out of place there in our “finery” among the flipflops and shorts? Or maybe – just maybe – did passersby think Hooshang might be Adrian Paul from the then-popular TV series “Highlander”? At that time, Hooshang bore a striking resemblance to the series’ lead character.
So, yes, I remember these things. That was such a magical, blissful period – the early days of our marriage, which at that time was commuter-style.
But I also remember something else from that visit: row after row of mats lying on the lush green grass under the Palisades’ stately trees. Mats of the homeless. I couldn’t believe there were so many, so jam-packed together, just so “out there” – exposed. Exposed to the elements, exposed to everyone, exposed to the harsh reality of their owners’ situation.
In my mind, I now see most of the mats as being brown, and most being created from just a blanket. That means the dew would make them wet as night slipped into early morning. Definitely not something that sounds pleasant, along with so many other aspects of homelessness.
From what I observe in the news today, I can only imagine how many more mats – how many more homeless souls – might be out there now. And how many similar scenes are occurring throughout the country as homeless rates continue to rise. Between 2022 and 2023, the number of people experiencing homelessness in the U.S. jumped 12 percent.
While finding ways to deal with the pressing issue of homelessness is difficult, a local church is doing its best to make life a bit easier for these unfortunate individuals.
At Grace Methodist, a group of women gathers three times a week to weave plastic grocery bags into mats that are distributed to homeless populations in Monroe, Shreveport, Alexandria, Baton Rouge, Houston and elsewhere. Similar efforts are being made by various organizations across the country, highlighting a growing grassroots movement to provide practical help for those in need.
My service group, the Zeta Rho chapter of Epsilon Sigma Alpha, recently visited one of the local weaving sessions – and was most impressed. I took notes and photos, and two of my ESA sisters actually wove portions of a mat.
Since the mission began in 2019, more than 700 6-foot-by-28-inch mats have been made. Undoubtedly more would have been fashioned if it were not for Covid, but everything’s back on track now, and the team crafts a product that will help its owner stay dry at night and that can be easily rolled up for transport via the strap that is attached. (Note: The group accepts volunteer weavers from the community and other area churches.)
Much like the distribution, donated bags come from all over as well – from as far away as Oklahoma and Pennsylvania. So don’t throw away your plastic bags. Instead, take them to Grace Methodist, 3401 N. Trenton St., and they’ll become part of the project’s plarn (plastic yarn). Making just one matt takes 500-700 bags, so every contribution counts. And if you can, please neatly flatten the bags before donating; the volunteers will greatly appreciate it.
In the small room where this labor of love takes place, five handmade looms containing 19 pegs sit on fold-up tables. Strips of black plastic form the foundation (made from heavy-duty garbage bags donated by Lowe’s), and strips of plarn ranging from gray and white to pink and yellow come together to make the rest of the mat. Super-1 also helps out, donating bags that have gotten damaged.
During our visit, comments offering much food for thought floated freely around the room:
“Teamwork … It’s faster when someone helps you.” And “If you don’t do your foundation right, you’re going to have trouble.”
Maybe the best thing floating around that day, though, was a Bible verse that is affixed to each mat: “When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet” – Proverbs 3:24.
Sallie Rose Hollis lives in Ruston and retired from Louisiana Tech as an associate professor of journalism and the assistant director of the News Bureau. She can be contacted at sallierose@mail.com.
