It Could Be Me

What struck me most was the look in his eyes. It was a lost, apologetic look. "Can you spare some change?"

It didn't matter that we were deep inside the eating establishment and he saw us sitting at the back and walked back to ask. He asked, twice. But that look in his face.

I can't help but think that it could be me. What if I hadn't had a supportive family, an education, or a loving wife to support me all these years. What if my ancestors had settled in the U.S. where there is no socialized medicine. What if?

It is in the family. But nobody talked about it. An uncle. After WW II. Homeless. My other Uncle: George, used to try to keep track of Tom I was told. But I never met him.

There is some "at home" feeling for me in Toronto. After all I'm 4th generation Torontonian even though most of my growing up was in a small town. We walked a lot yesterday. There is so much to see, so much of life going on as we walked by. You could spend an hour at each moment given the time. Queen West was alive. The sun was shining, folks were out and about on St. Patrick's Day. There was Spring in the air.

But there is just something I feel deeply as I walk by the homeless folks in this great city. I just feel it. And I know I need to do more to act on my thoughts. And I will.

After all, it could be me.