Come join the search for invisible people. They’re unseen because they’re homeless.
Some of us simply don’t notice them; others see them but pretend they aren’t there.
They’re invisible by choice, as well.
Attracting attention – from police officers, muggers, addicts, even well-intentioned agency workers – often isn’t wise.
It’s 6 a.m. Thursday in downtown Port Angeles.
Three volunteers, residents of Serenity House, are starting to canvass the area for the annual point-in-time census of homeless people.
Partial preliminary results of the census are expected to be available by Thursday, with breakouts by gender, age and location to be finished in early spring.
On the day of the census, the pre-dawn darkness is cold, not teeth-chattering frigid but that special Clallam County cold that creeps beneath the skin, chills the bones and seems to dim the soul.
The sky is turning from black into gun-barrel blue when Blaine Lahnala directs driver Bill Harris down a dirt road behind the Pettit Oil Co. and beneath the state Highway 117 bridge over Tumwater Creek.
