The Palm Beach Post

Delray adopts a more diplomatic approach toward homeless

- MyPalmBeac­hPost.com/frank.

Frank Cerabino

Don’t think of it as the Delray Beach Bum Patrol.

That sounds a little too mean. A more noble name is required to describe the effort of the city’s Downtown Developmen­t Authority in hiring security guards to scour the area every morning to get the sleeping homeless people to make themselves invisible.

Skedaddlin­g the homeless requires a program name that suggests more compassion.

And Delray Beach hasn’t disappoint­ed in that department.

It’s called “The Ambassador Program.” For the past four months, this pilot program about to expire in Delray Beach has employed yellow-shirted security guards — um, er, I mean “ambassador­s” — to comb the downtown streets starting at 6 a.m. to wake up the homeless and get them to scoot.

The next step, I guess, will be to come up with a different name for the homeless.

I’m partial to “chronic outdoorsme­n,” or maybe “the trans-residentia­l.”

And perhaps the ambassador­s can be part of something called the The CRUEL (Citizen Relocation Unit for Extreme Loungers) Squad.

I know some of you English-language sticklers out there might have an issue with the abuse of the word “ambassador” in this case.

Ambassador­s are usually Read Frank Cerabino’s recent columns online at associated with high-ranking representa­tives of a country on a special diplomatic mission in a foreign land.

For example, Callista Gingrich, the current wife of Newt Gingrich, has been nominated to be the U.S. ambassador to the Vatican. I would be very surprised if her ambassador duties involved getting up at dawn to shoo the home- less from the public showers installed by Pope Francis near St. Peter’s Square.

There are other kinds of ambassador­s, too. At Palm Beach Internatio­nal Airport, volunteers wearing teal sports coats are identified as “airport ambassador­s” and are there to answer questions from passing travelers.

The PBI airport ambassador­s will not bother you if you fall asleep in the concourse.

But language is a living thing. Maybe it’s time to start think-

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