Jeremiah
He plants a geranium garden alongside his tent
and watches in irony as it thrives
in coastal swamp.
Poisoned by the love of intoxication,
they hate to see him fly,
lying in a three day haze of sweet wine.
And the streets are full of sex-crazed 12 year old junkies--Anyone
can walk--procreate and call it even--society,
have another kid, addicted in the womb
and malnourished.
Gardens of cactus flourish alone in the dry heat of San Diego,
and geraniums flower yearly
beside an empty tent--to be picked by a 12-year-old junkie.
I met Jeremiah in the back of the Big Bear supermarket while collecting food for my pigs and chickens. Jeremiah hung out with Jeff, and although Jeff was in his late twenties and Jeremiah was only twelve, they had a lot in common. Both were free spirits who had rejected middle class America. Neither went to school, had a job, or had the ambition to "fit in." Yet they were both reasonably intelligent and socially adept.
Jeff lived in a tent in the swampy area below Big Bear separating Solana Beach from Del Mar. He once took me to see his place, and I was surprised to find that on one side of his tent he'd planted a geranium garden, and on the other a succulent garden, both well cared for and thriving. The plants he'd selected from the Big Bear dumpster. He had a devoted sheepdog that followed him everywhere, a tramp Jeff had saved from starvation, or so he told me. Jeff was just as devoted to that dog as the dog was to him; they were the best of friends.
About twenty homeless folks lived in the swamp, and some of them Jeff introduced me to. Most were transients, but some had been around for a long time. These guys each seemed to have a specific problem or set of problems. One was psychotic and was in and out of mental institutions. Another was alcoholic and frequently turned up stone drunk begging for money. Another was a sex-crazed homosexual who would approach any male with an offer. Jeff seemed relatively tame and logical, and it was only later that I learned he had a police record, having escaped from jail after stealing a car.
Above all, Jeff loved the feeling of intoxication. It didn't matter if it was alcohol, cigarettes or drugs. He'd do anything to get them. If he had the money, he'd buy a case of beer or sweet wine and just drink for two or three days straight, lying semiconscious in bed with no desire to do anything. It was this love of intoxication, I think, that first brought Jeff and Jeremiah together. Like Jeff, Jeremiah was a heavy smoker and he also loved drugs and alcohol. All of his efforts were directed towards getting them. He'd go up to absolute strangers, unashamedly asking for money or cigarettes. At first I found that amazing for a 12-year-old kid, but then I got the full story.
One night I offered to take Jeremiah home. He lived with his grandmother in a small, dingy hut on the side of a hill in Solana Beach, overlooking the Del Mar fairgrounds. It was she who related his history to me. Both Jeremiah's mother and father had been heroin addicts. As a result, Jeremiah had been addicted in the womb. Neither parent wanted to care for him, so he ended up with his grandmother. Although she had a heart of gold and was well intentioned, she was poor and continually frustrated with Jeremiah's lack of ambition for education. Initially in a local school, and later in a detention school for problem kids, he always managed to escape his "school prison." When he did, he had no feeling of remorse. His teachers and social worker eventually just gave up and let him play hooky. There was really nothing they could do. She looked to me, an educator, as the first hope that someone might have a positive effect on him. I tried to make a difference, allowing and even paying him to do odd jobs for the researchers in my lab. I'd hoped he'd develop a thirst for knowledge and come to value education. But Jeremiah wasn't interested in what we were doing; he only wanted money to buy drugs.
Jeremiah's grandmother also told me of his strange developmental problems. After birth, the poor lad barely grew, and for several years he remained the size of an infant. Finally, at the age of seven, she took him to a hospital where he was examined. They concluded that his physical development had been severely arrested and gave him hormone therapy: a mixture of growth hormone and testosterone. This worked! The scrawny, underdeveloped boy started growing at an abnormal rate so that he eventually reached the size of a large midget or a short adult, about four feet eight inches. Surprisingly, he was well proportioned and quite a nice looking kid.
Unfortunately, the hormone therapy had its side effects. Besides allowing Jeremiah to grow, it induced premature adolescence. At the age of 9 he had the sex drive of a 16 year old. And being without the usual social inhibitions, he sought outlets for his desires, usually in socially unacceptable ways. There seemed to be no end to his problems, and his grandmother was at her wits end, not knowing how to handle him.
Where are Jeff and Jeremiah now? After a couple of years Jeff met a homeless girl, Mabel, and they fell in love. Both were alcoholic drug users. They could frequently be seen together along a road or at an intersection with a sign reading "We'll work for food." They subsequently tried to get jobs and lead normal lives and although they'd get odd jobs now and then and make a little money, it was never enough to pay for an apartment and other necessities. It wasn't long, however, before Mabel was pregnant. I could see Jeremiah's undirected, miserable life starting all over.
I still see both Jeff and Jeremiah occasionally behind Albertson's, which bought out Lucky's, which had bought out Big Bear years before. Jeremiah and Jeff both look a lot older - much older than their chronological ages would warrant - with leathery, lined faces. I suppose they were just worn out by the trials and tribulations of their unfortunate lives. But they still hang out and beg together. What happened to Jeff's one-time girlfriend and the baby? I never learned. They just didn't have the chance for more than a fleeting moment of happiness.
All this reminiscing brings me to the main point of this essay: what a crime it is that anyone can get pregnant and bring a child into the world, regardless of their physical or mental state and regardless of their desire and ability to raise a child. We all know the potential consequences to the fetus of drinking alcohol and using street drugs during pregnancy. Similarly, we know the consequences of poverty and malnutrition to a growing child. Finally, we know that young kids left to their own devices may or may not survive, and if they do survive, they often learn to lead lives of crime and corruption.
Physically diseased, mentally retarded, and mentally disabled couples may also be incapable of supporting a child. Still, in our society, and in most societies around the world, there are no laws, regulations or social customs preventing them from having kids. There must be tens of millions of Jeremiahs in this world. Knowing that 50% of conceptions are unplanned and about 25% are unwanted, leads to the conviction that this world would be a much better place if kids could choose their parents. But since they can't, society should implement strict rules governing who is fit to have a baby. Just as an adoption agency carefully considers the credentials and qualifications of potential adoptive parents, a governmental agency or its equivalent should evaluate potential parents before they are allowed to give birth. Just as the Department of Motor Vehicles gives written and practical exams to determine if a person is qualified to drive, suitability for parenting should be carefully evaluated in order to avoid social and environmental harm. At the very least, the government should make birth control a freely available option for all people, everywhere. If such measures were taken, tragedies such as Jeremiah's could be avoided and the children of Earth's societies would be healthier, happier and better educated.