Ridin' Down the Highway

It was a little foggy on my way to work this morning. Actually really foggy, until I got to Midtown. There’s one lane on that end of Main St. because of the Light Rail tracks. When I get to Holman, I see a man walking in the middle of the street just past the light. I slow down so that he can get out of the way without me hitting him, and as I do, I get a very good look at him. He looks so lost – he is tall and extremely thin. Where his shirt hangs open, I can see the bones of his ribs poking through his skin. His jeans are torn and dirty. I didn’t see if he was wearing shoes. I sighed, and my heart broke as I wondered how many more of him there are.

I’m not a stranger to the homeless. Some are asleep under the old Sears storefront when I cruise by in the morning. Many visit the church to get a lunch and a clean change of clothes. There is one woman who sits always at the bus stop at Main and Clay; I pass her everyday on the way home. I just wish there was something more I could do. I know that nothing is free and it costs money to run programs and agencies that help men and women and children and families in this situation. I guess what I don’t understand is how we live in a nation with such wealth and still have such a large number of people homeless and on the street.