It is cold here, in the 50s and damp. I am sitting in my computer/music/library/temporary dining room until I finish the framing room, watching this skinny guy lug his purloined shopping cart up and down my tiny street, checking recycling cans for aluminum. He lifted the lid of my itty bitty generic garbage can, then dropped it without a second look. And I thought, hey! My garbage not good enough for you. Okay, now getting a grip. If it is cold in the little yellow house, it is much colder out there. When I think about it, I never saw a homeless person when I was growing up. Of course, I lived in a small town, where everyone messed in everyone else's business, and everyone knew everyone, so folks like that got taken care of, one way of another. They got tucked away in state hospitals, for one thing. Don't have any of those available any more. Thank you, Ronnie. Sad state we are in, going backward, not taking care of one another any more. Oh, I wouldn't want to go back to those days. No computer, no DVR, hell, no satellite TV. I don't think we were thinking about anyone but ourselves when we swept our neighborhoods clean of indigents we so charmingly called bums. There is a much greater chance here and now that we will evolve our thinking into something a little more kind and compassionate. It may have something to do with most of our population is over the hill agewise, facing the Great Reward, and wanting to actually deserve it. You think? Me, I will just keep holding a space for that skinny guy in my consciousness, hoping he gathers enough cans to eat today. It's good to have a goal, you know. And it seems that he works awfully hard doing this. Too bad someone isn't paying him. Oh, and here's the beginning of (yet-another) cow opus. Sweet baby cow, with big cow eyes.
No comments:
Post a Comment