Sometimes, it's the little things that restore my faith in humanity. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate people, but I also don't think the majority of the population that I see (read: tourists) are all that 1) intelligent or 2) polite.
From the guys who spit on the ground everywhere to the people who must walk five abreast and take up the entire generously wide sidewalks around the mall and aren't aware enough to move aside to the bike riders who insist on riding their bikes on Metro sidewalks with loads of people milling about, I just have no aloha for these folks.
But today, it was absolutely pouring when I got out of the Metro and didn't look like it was going to let up. I stood under cover with some other stupid souls like myself, who forgot their umbrellas (and where was the umbrella seller who always seems to be at the Metro when it's raining anyway?). So I was standing there for awhile, wondering just how long the rain would last and when I'd be able to resume my commute (I have at least a seven minute walk from the Metro and that doesn't include waiting at the Constitution Ave light) and thinking about the two umbrellas at work, two at home and one back in my car at Metro parking, when someone tapped my shoulder.
I turned around, and the homeless man that I say hello to every morning and evening offered me an umbrella. He's the same one I leave baked goods for (I know, that was such horrible grammar there) when I've made cookies or pound cakes. He's the most pleasant homeless man I've ever met, always smiling and cheerful even on the worst days. He's been on my route for about a year and a half and I've never seen him not smile and talk to folks. And people really respond to him - others leave him food and decorations for the little tree nearby (at Christmastime, he and his fellow homeless men decorated the sapling with tinsel and ornaments, making it look a lot like Charlie Brown's tree) and stop to talk to him. People drop off clothes, shoes, blankets, and tarps too. He and his buddies weathered the winter out pretty well. I haven't ever spoken with him other than to greet him and mention weather, but I have gotten so used to him, I wonder where he is when I don't see him.
Anyway, he said "I'll get it from you later," so I gladly took the umbrella. The whole incident is just so heartwarming. I shall bake him some cookies this weekend. Hope he doesn't have a metabolism problem!
Meanwhile, my mother forwarded an email from my cousin in Iraq. I still have a hard time thinking of Michael as a soldier. The skinny kid I know is still a Trek-loving nerd in my mind, but I don't really know him that well. He and his sister were adopted by my mother's brother and his wife and are considerably younger than me. It's pretty interesting, ancestry-wise. My uncle is Hawaiian Chinese American, his wife is Japanese American, and their kids were adopeted from Korea. To the outsider, they probably don't look like they aren't related. Anyway, they live in Los Angeles, so I never really saw them that much. Still, I'd see them occasionally, so my recollection is of a nerdy kid.
To get back to Michael's letter, it's really depressing. Really. He sounds so demoralized and like the rest of the troop is as well. I don't know just where he is, but he's close enough to the escapees to be involved in the tightened security. For some reason, I thought he'd come home from Iraq, but I guess he was just on a break. I didn't realize he was going back. Another cousin of mine is in the DMZ, I think. I don't know if he's left or not. I hope so.
( 08:13 FH | urban living. war, what is it good for. )