And how attention to the present moment yields stories and signs.
This rainy grey day, after dropping my son at school, I drove by Job Lot and saw a local man on the street. He was bending over. I watched from my idling car as he picked up a wet one dollar bill, held it up, brushed it off on his pants and smiled. I smiled too.
The light turned green.
This man most days, slides by the sidewalk on his scooter. Sometimes with his brothers. We often nod at each other.
I’m guessing he’s one of those guys who holds up a restaurant by working in a kitchen. Doing dishes, making salads, chopping, kidding with chefs, and working harder and kinder than anyone else inside the hot box. Maybe he’s undocumented, maybe not.
We don’t talk on the street. Because I would simply want to apologize, and that’s plain dumb. White woman tears. Empathy. He needs more than me making myself feel better by being nice. Or maybe he needs nothing from me.
He knows more than me anyway.
There’s a whole bunch of quiet people in this seaside tourist town, going nearly unnoticed. Folks that don’t run for office, or plaster their faces on real estate signs, coach rich ladies into personal fulfillment, or grace features in local rags’ style sections. Folks who don’t hang out shingles, run booster clubs, or show up for association meetings and craft fairs. Folks who don’t do improv, hang at micro-breweries, or dine out. Folks who maybe send their kids to school, I hope so. Folks who may show up in clinics when their kids are really sick.
Folks that work. Folks woven into the fabric of here.
Our folks. Because we are them. When we worked harder and smarter to survive.
Given the current state of our government, and the anti-immigrant sentiment gone mean and cruel: sloppy deportations and snatching folks because of the color of their skin, or for not keeping their heads down ‘just so.’
Two, three generations back, my family was hired, and valued, and went to school, and contributed to the community, started small businesses, and worked. And raised families. And now we contribute openly and dine out, do improv, visit galleries, play sports, join meetings, get health care, and celebrate life publicly. We buy land, we raise our voices, and go to schools. We teach and talk philosophy. We do art.
Some of us chose to climb the ladder and make policies, and societies, and govern. Some decided to heal others as doctors. Some help others see.
Today, I saw a man catch more than luck
Walked in the rain. Head down.
Saw what’s in front of him.
Got George Washington.
Clearly belongs to him.
