Having problems with message search?
This is a blog post by the author that follows up on the Toronto Jew story posted about recently that appeared in the Canadian Jewish News. Again, there is no slight on this woman for being Jewish. The authro is trying to help this woman who is homeless and has MCS. IMHO it does not matters whether she is Jewish or not. It's irrelevant to her plight. It is my hope that someone knows someone who can help this fellow MCS sufferer. I could not imagine living in a car in the freezing cold. We all know what it means to need safe housing. The original article had contact information for the woman. If anyone needs that again, please let me know.
A Toronto Jew is Living in her Car Part 2
http://avrumrosensweigideas.blogspot.com/2007/12/toronto-jew-is-living-in-her-car-part-2.html
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Last time I wrote about a Jewish woman who is living in her car and
asked CJN readers for help. Of the 50,000 people who read this
newspaper, I received nine responses, and therefore I am appealing
this week to the other 49,991 readers.
We, who sleep under welcoming duvets and lower the temperature when
it gets too warm in our houses, can only wonder about the loneliness
and physical challenges this woman faces. Where does she go to the
bathroom and how does she wash herself? How often does she needs to
move the car because those parking ravens (officers) are writing her
a ticket, and her forced destination once again becomes a low lit
dead-end street?
It's midnight and her parka, extra pair of socks, knitted hat and
wool cover are not enough to warm her body, and she stares out the
fogged up window and wonders how the hell she ever got here. Once she
was warm. Once she was a volunteer at Baycrest.
What of her fear? Have you ever seen someone approaching your car in
your rear-view mirror? Their image grows as they get closer,
ominously. But they are usually walking by in the light of day; not
at 3 a.m.
What of her loneliness? Go out to your driveway, sit in your sedan,
close your eyes and pretend this is it. There is no coming indoors,
because your car is your indoors. There is no family huddled by the
mantel lighting the Chanukah menorah and no familial rapture as
presents are opened. The bundles of things sharing the back seat are
your only family.
She is alone and she is lonely.
The woman I am writing about is a Jew who suffers from multiple
chemical sensitivity (MCS), a condition that causes her deep physical
and mental anguish when she is exposed to the smell of pesticides,
chemicals, perfume, cleansers, hairspray, shampoo, room freshener,
carpet deodorizers and deodorant.
She told me last week, "When I am exposed, I feel like a board has
been thrust into my forehead. Over the next 12 to 24 hours, I will be
in extreme pain, vomit violently and experience dizziness. It can be
very dangerous."
She needs to live in an environment where she can control the
fragrances and smells – a bungalow, not an apartment.
Chanukah, the incandescent holiday, is here. I love the thought that
the beauty of the Chanukah candle, the flame, is that it never
diminishes despite the number of other lights, even a million, it
illuminates. It is said the soul of humankind is similar; that no
matter how much one shares, gives out, the soul does not get smaller.
In this light, I ask you to consider there is a Jewish woman living
in a car here in Toronto.
Nine CJN readers responded to her situation, some offering financial
assistance for therapies and others referring her to websites. I read
the responses to her, and she recorded the information into a hand-
held recorder. It was Sunday, Nov. 25, and cold outside. She couldn't
hold a pen. It was too chilly for me to shovel snow.
I am convinced somebody reading this has an empty house for a Jewish
woman with MCS, who is living in her car. I am certain somewhere in
our community of 200,000 Jews there is a developer, a snowbird or a
cottage owner who has the means to help a Jewish woman living in her
car. I know this to be true.
It is Chanukah. Remember Jewish law does not allow the light of a
streetlamp to be used as a menorah.
"To know and not to do is not to know." (Chinese Proverb)
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Last time I wrote about a Jewish woman who is living in her car and
asked CJN readers for help. Of the 50,000 people who read this
newspaper, I received nine responses, and therefore I am appealing
this week to the other 49,991 readers.
We, who sleep under welcoming duvets and lower the temperature when
it gets too warm in our houses, can only wonder about the loneliness
and physical challenges this woman faces. Where does she go to the
bathroom and how does she wash herself? How often does she needs to
move the car because those parking ravens (officers) are writing her
a ticket, and her forced destination once again becomes a low lit
dead-end street?
It's midnight and her parka, extra pair of socks, knitted hat and
wool cover are not enough to warm her body, and she stares out the
fogged up window and wonders how the hell she ever got here. Once she
was warm. Once she was a volunteer at Baycrest.
What of her fear? Have you ever seen someone approaching your car in
your rear-view mirror? Their image grows as they get closer,
ominously. But they are usually walking by in the light of day; not
at 3 a.m.
What of her loneliness? Go out to your driveway, sit in your sedan,
close your eyes and pretend this is it. There is no coming indoors,
because your car is your indoors. There is no family huddled by the
mantel lighting the Chanukah menorah and no familial rapture as
presents are opened. The bundles of things sharing the back seat are
your only family.
She is alone and she is lonely.
The woman I am writing about is a Jew who suffers from multiple
chemical sensitivity (MCS), a condition that causes her deep physical
and mental anguish when she is exposed to the smell of pesticides,
chemicals, perfume, cleansers, hairspray, shampoo, room freshener,
carpet deodorizers and deodorant.
She told me last week, "When I am exposed, I feel like a board has
been thrust into my forehead. Over the next 12 to 24 hours, I will be
in extreme pain, vomit violently and experience dizziness. It can be
very dangerous."
She needs to live in an environment where she can control the
fragrances and smells – a bungalow, not an apartment.
Chanukah, the incandescent holiday, is here. I love the thought that
the beauty of the Chanukah candle, the flame, is that it never
diminishes despite the number of other lights, even a million, it
illuminates. It is said the soul of humankind is similar; that no
matter how much one shares, gives out, the soul does not get smaller.
In this light, I ask you to consider there is a Jewish woman living
in a car here in Toronto.
Nine CJN readers responded to her situation, some offering financial
assistance for therapies and others referring her to websites. I read
the responses to her, and she recorded the information into a hand-
held recorder. It was Sunday, Nov. 25, and cold outside. She couldn't
hold a pen. It was too chilly for me to shovel snow.
I am convinced somebody reading this has an empty house for a Jewish
woman with MCS, who is living in her car. I am certain somewhere in
our community of 200,000 Jews there is a developer, a snowbird or a
cottage owner who has the means to help a Jewish woman living in her
car. I know this to be true.
It is Chanukah. Remember Jewish law does not allow the light of a
streetlamp to be used as a menorah.
"To know and not to do is not to know." (Chinese Proverb)
Offline 
Send Email