Elegance

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Another bombing in Istambul today. Gawd only knows what's going on in Afghanistan and Iraq. Michael Jackson's mug shot is on the 'net. Protesters, bless their hearts, resist the FTAA and Britain's first court jester in eight hundred years. AIDS ravages Africa. Gunfire rings out in Chiapas. The planet's full of crazy people, pooping in their own diapers and blaming it on everybody else.

And I'm on my fluffy feather bed, burping turkey dinner, wishing all those crazy people out there were as happy and as satisfied as I am right this very minute.

I literally cried as I ate. The scents and flavors brought back so many memories. The food was so well prepared. Everything came out absolutely perfect. It's pure art. Really.

It's going to be freezing out tonight. I remember homelessness.

I'm in a lot of pain from standing on my feet in stupid shoes to cook. But I'm not in the pain I remember from homelessness. Walking for miles to the next service agency appointment. Standing in the cold, waiting for the shelter to unlock and let me back in. Carrying everything I can on my shoulders and in my arms. Seeing people either stare or move away, as though I am dangerous or contageous. Feeling like a failure and a freak.

No, this is not that pain.

And millions are out there tonight, feeling that pain.

There's a guy who comes down my alley almost every day, looking for aluminum cans to cash in. He pushes a shopping cart full of cans. He has a digging stick to fetch them. He always looks so tired.

I've talked with him almost every day, all summer, as I gardened and he passed. Porkchop loves him.

I don't know his name. He calls me "ma'am."

I've offered him blankets, because I have plenty I can spare. I've offered him a coat, if he needs it. He's got stuff stashed all around town, so he'll have what he needs where ever he ends up.

He eyes the trailer in the empty lot, and tells me how much he'd love to sleep in it on cold, winter nights.

He's gentle. He's smart. He's so tired.

Today, I told him that, if he came back in four or five hours, I could serve him a home-cooked turkey dinner. I told him the only thing that came out of a can was some chicken broth, for the mashed potatoes. But he didn't come back.

I give him all my aluminum cans.

If you have an extra blanket, or some shoes, or a coat, or a toothbrush or a razor, or some soap or deodorant, take it where you've seen homeless people and just leave it on the ground, in plain sight.

Just do it. Don't preach. Don't leave propoganda, either religious or political. Don't ask anything from them. Just put something useful where a homeless person can find it easily. Don't throw it in the trash. Give it, and a person, an extra dose of life; give it away.

Please.