When I was driving for Uber in Los Angeles, I was struck by how many homeless people live there. Some say there are 100,000 homeless in Los Angeles, especially in the old downtown area and under freeway bridges. Shelters cannot keep up. Soup kitchens have not “seen these numbers” since the Great Depression of the 1930s. Local government does little to help, and the police may arrest a homeless person only to free him or her without help the next day. I saw a homeless tent parked near a Rolls Royce luxury sedan in the Beverly Hills area. A U.S. army veteran camped out at a McDonald’s patio with his friend. A man lay passed out in the street in front of a Starbucks coffee shop. A wheelchair-bound man visited the local cat lover and his shopping cart near Walmart. Churches lock their gates as people sleep on steps and in doorways. Will we only do something about the homeless when they climb over our high walls and invade our homes and gardens? We take better care of our fashion and our pet dogs. As an Uber driver, I often slept in my car, homeless myself but with a vehicle as shelter. Buy my books, and I will help the homeless. Now I am not one of them. Like most Americans, I could be homeless again–after one month without a paycheck. America is falling.