The Unclad Soul

I saw him while I was sitting at a traffic light. He was an older man shuffling along a parking lot of a 7 Eleven just across the street from me. He was bundled in clothes too heavy for the warm day but I’m sure it’s what he wears every day in this winter season. There are no closets full of choices for the poor and the indigent. He was pushing a shopping cart full of stuff I couldn’t recognize…sacks and plastic bags of things he had collected along whatever journey of despair he was on that day. His pant legs hung over old ruined boots and dragged the ground as he moved. There was something about those droopy cuffs scraping the pavement that overwhelmed me with sadness. He looked so weary in the slow pace of his efforts. People got in and out of their cars around him coming and going to the convenient store to pick up this or that oblivious to this man’s hunger or illness or just weariness. He was simply a part of the tacky landscape of that part of town. None of us ever...

“There is nobody in this country who got rich on their own. Nobody. You built a factory out there - good for you. But I want to be clear. You moved your goods to market on roads the rest of us paid for. You hired workers the rest of us paid to educate. You were safe in your factory because of police forces and fire forces that the rest of us paid for. You didn't have to worry that marauding bands would come and seize everything at your factory... Now look. You built a factory and it turned into something terrific or a great idea - God bless! Keep a hunk of it. But part of the underlying social contract is you take a hunk of that and pay forward for the next kid who comes along.” ~ Elizabeth Warren, Harvard Law Professor/Policy Advocate/Candidate for US Senate