???

 It’s been hot. Before noon, today, it was already 97 degrees Fahrenheit. Someone told me the forecast called for 109 degrees today, and 110 tomorrow.

How do the homeless manage? How’s that elderly man, the one I pass most mornings, as I drive around a corner? His life seems to be contained in a shopping cart, and in his gaze, which meets mine, now and then. Walking past him last Sunday, still glowing from my cousin’s birthday party the day before, I heard, “Hey, man! What th’ fuck you think you doin’!?” A homeless kid was confronting the man. His eyes locked with mine, for a split second. Then, he kicked the man in the chest, then, twice in the abdomen, six feet or so, from me and my grocery bags. The man was bent over. The kid was fast, and dangerous. Then, I heard what sounded like the man’s shopping cart being pushed over, glass shattering. I had no cell phone with me, but I saw a lady across the street, on hers, seeming to report the incident.

The homeless are my first thought, when it’s hot, cold, rainy, and when I contribute. I watch for that man, on the corner, but I haven’t seen him, since Sunday. 

- PJ

Eve of 54

Last Saturday I walked up to the boulevard under beautiful sunshine, wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals. Browsing the Goodwill store after dropping things off I noticed many warm-looking fleece jackets on the racks. Tonight it’s 45 degrees and pouring rain. Good weather for some, but for those whose home is outdoors, this is nasty. And it’s only 6:30.

I sit at my desk, central heat on, sipping a whiskey. Earlier, gray clouds tripped, landing on the hill behind the Goodwill, making my little Tuscany invisible.

All those fleece jackets locked inside, and so many people outside.

One Thanksgiving I asked a friend if he was thankful for his senses. He stared.

Without our senses, our sense of touch, how could we possibly function, or help others?

I wish I could buy every one of those fleece jackets.

- PJ