I am from Eugene, Oregon, and my family still lives there. I remember some brutal winters up there when I lived with my family. It is definitely not a good place for homeless people to live. I have often wondered why homeless people don't attempt to move to Los Angeles, where it is never too cold or too hot? If they could panhandle enough money to buy a bus ticket to Los Angeles, at least they wouldn't have to worry about dying from cold or heat.
This article describes how easy it is to become homeless and how difficult it is to get back out of homelessness...
http://www.cracked.com/personal-experiences-1246-7-things-no-one-tells-you-about-being-homeless.html
Most of us are very fortunate to never have to worry about becoming homeless, but just a minor twist of fate or bad luck, and suddenly we may find ourselves plunged into the nightmare world of homelessness.
Our government pretty much ignores the problem because sadly, very few people who vote care about the homeless people. Many of them are mentally ill, and sadly, a large percentage of these ones are beyond hope of recovery. They will never again be able to find a job, and will never be able to afford a roof over their heads again. These are the chronically homeless. The government could at least adequately fund shelters so that they at least had a place to come in out of the cold, heat, and rain/snow. And they should be provided with adequate food and medical care. These were once someone's baby, someone's child. Someone's sibling. It is a sad thing that happened to them. At a certain point, their family became either unwilling or unable to help them anymore.
My brother had schizophrenia and he lost his job and eventually his home, and he lived with me and various other relatives as he couch surfed from relative to relative over the years. Wearing out his welcome over and over. From time to time he was homeless, living out on the streets, and when I found out about it, I would go find him and bring him back home with me, but he never stayed more than a few months before moving on again. I wish now I had been nicer to him. I regret so many things. He ended up killing himself. He couldn't take it anymore. And the prescription medications they gave him were horrible-- they did horrible things to him. Geodon gave him akathisia and tardive dyskinesia and often made him feel and act like a zombie. Zoloft caused something called serotonin storm that required a trip to the emergency room. And in the end, they didn't help him at all. They just made his life worse.
As I age, I find that I have less and less close family members left. That is, I have less and less people who would willingly take me in, if let's say, I became homeless. So, I can see how it could happen even to me. A simple twist of fate could leave me with no one to turn to. That's one of the ways it happens.
I have thought about what I would do if something like that happened. As the time approached I would do everything in my power to move to Los Angeles. But then there is the part of me that thinks that I simply could not take the huge step down in my standard of living.