Any of the thousands of people who follow me on social media across this country and in eight countries outside of the US know how I feel about the $13 million downtown park. I make no secret that I don’t support it and will never step one big toe inside of it.

The reason I feel this way is that any money used to develop this play land for a specific demographic could’ve been better spent addressing more pressing issues of safety, health, crime, and overall livability in this marginal slice of Heaven. Those who defend the need for this waste of acreage argue that it was built with all private money. Yeah, ok, let’s ride with that until the wheels fall off if you want to. I care little how the cow was born, raised, fed, grazed, and slaughtered. I only care about how the steak looks on a plate, But this big piece of public meat is not being served well done to all those that are truly hungry.

If we’re struggling to pay for the other nearly two dozen city owned parks, where are we going to get the money to keep the waterfall flowing for this unneeded monstrosity? There’s a beautiful park down from Hurley School, tucked off the main road, that’s seldom used. With no public transportation available, it’s as if certain people aren’t welcomed there. I go there to read and see that it sits empty and quiet, longing for the feel of feet trampling its grounds and little kids to
awaken it with their screaming voices. The recreational offerings are sparse, and it makes me wonder what it could truly be if a fraction of the multi-millions of dollars that went downtown had been used there.

Last weekend, as I trekked down East Innes Street, I happened upon several sad sights that gave me pause enough to pull over. In the empty grass lot adjacent to the Bojangles’ restaurant were several grocery store carts filled with the belongings of two homeless individuals. This static scene was similar to the packed vehicle on the opening of the Beverly Hillbillies TV show. Balanced high on one cart was a dresser, tied down, resting on top of their entire life situated in rolling carts. Sad. This city places so much emphasis on crafting the quaint historic, art-driven image of this little burg, but this is the first thing you see when you exit the interstate. As I gathered my composure and drove on, crossing under the bridge and merging to the right to head to Lowe’s, I thought this was an isolated incident.

Immediately after turning off the main road and onto the one leading into the parking lot, I was greeted by a similar sorrowful sight. I wondered if an updated version of the Beverly Hillbillies had relocated to Salisbury. On the
curbside was a heavily tattooed gentleman standing behind several carts stacked high and filled with his life.

My heart sank as that compassion and empathy gene, that eludes so many here, compelled me to pull up next to him to talk. I rolled down my car window and first asked him if he was a Veteran. I did so because with our wonderful VA Medical and Career Centers here and so many other available programs, no Veteran has to be homeless. I wanted to understand how he ended up living on life’s razor edge, so I asked him to share brief details of his downward spiral. “Dustin” shared a familiar story of a lack of a support system after one unfortunate crisis resulted in financial instability, ending in his finding refuge on the streets. Like many others I’ve talked with, he doesn’t want to live on the streets and spoke of a hope of rebounding and getting stable housing.

As my mind drifted back to the $13 million park, I wondered whose lack of planning was responsible for that debacle, the lack of caring for human suffering and creating bigger problems because of the absence of a plan after the camp was demolished. Car break-ins at the motel lodging near the interstate is already a problem. Panhandlers and beggars approaching people at stoplights and parking lots is already a safety issue. Discarded needles and trash is an eyesore.

Now you have these homeless roadside attractions popping up all over the city. Kudos to whomever fumbled this football. I’m sure you’ll be given a key to the city eventually since they’re about as relevant as winning a ring toss game at the county fair.

The homeless issue in this city is at a crisis level. Putting them on buses out of state is not a viable solution. Let’s direct them to the $13 million park and see how fast this crisis is resolved.

Kenneth L. (Kenny) Hardin is a member of the National Association of Black Journalists.