It seems like a scene straight from "The Grapes of Wrath," but this is no Great Depression novel. This story takes place in 2011, and this New Jersey tent city is one of an untold number of such encampments across the United States, where unemployment has reached 9.3 percent and approximately 3.5 million people are likely to be homeless in a given year, according to the most recent estimates by the National Coalition for the Homeless.
Joe Giammona, 31, has been homeless for nearly four months, after moving from Florida following a relationship that "just didn't work out," he said. He briefly stayed at a rooming house in Asbury Park, N.J., but the accompanying drugs and violence chased him away. A former landscaper and general contractor, Giammona lost his job when his boss had to slash payroll.
"Ever since then, it's been impossible to find a job," he said. "They're just not hiring at this time. I've been everywhere."
NOTE: We live on 20 rural acres and don't have any tent cities near us. I understand that there is every type of person living in tent cities, families, single men, women, once middle class or better. Is there nobody in the city who can invite a family or person into their home? Are our hearts that small? Do we care so little for our fellow man?
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