When I moved here from Maine, I was living in an apartment complex with no connection to the kinds of things I used to do and had to worry about work, rent, car payments and so on. Early one morning I saw a homeless guy with a little duffle bag ride a beat-up old bike from a few acre patch of woods tucked between a nearby park, shopping center and convent. Once I noticed him the first time, I saw him a lot. I'd see him reading in the library, having coffee in a restaurant and so on. I first saw him in 1991 and he looked to be ~40, so maybe he was a Viet Nam vet who never fit back in or who knows what led him to that life. I saw him for years and used to tell people that I thought he had the sanest life of anyone around here. I still think so, but I haven't seen him for a long time and wonder what happened to him.
I hope he moved to a better climate for living outdoors. When I was in Santa Monica a few years ago, I found myself thinking the homeless people had the best lives of anyone. A nice climate and no need to keep up with the neighbors or to watch the stock market or to scheme for a promotion. Don't get me wrong, homelessness is a serious problem and, in general, a stressful and very unhealthy way to live. But there are lots of problems with the way the rest of us live and I won't automatically assume that someone living without everything I have is worse off than me.