Here is a challenge for you; I want you to think about something in a different way. The next time you see a homeless person begging for change on the side of the road with a cardboard sign. I want you to ask yourself, could I do that?

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Here is a challenge for you; I want you to think about something in a different way. The next time you see a homeless person begging for change on the side of the road with a cardboard sign. I want you to ask yourself, could I do that? Could I stand on the side of the road in all weather and beg for money from strangers? It's simple enough, all you need is a marker and a piece of cardboard. But if you're homeless"you probably don't have a magic marker, and you probably don't have cardboard either. I'll give you a tip, look at their shoes.

I can tell you these things because I was once homeless myself. I'd worked for twenty-five years without missing a paycheck then I went into business for myself. For three years I was successful, I was about to hire some part time help when the stock market crashed. My business dried up like turd in the sun and I began looking for work. Looking for anything that would help me get by. To make a long story short I ended up sleeping in a garage. I sold my truck; I couldn't pay the insurance anyway and contemplated suicide. I'd been successful my entire adult life and now I was destitute.

Obviously, I didn't go through with it not because I came to my senses but because I was a coward. I was afraid to fail. I was also too scared to stand on the side of the highway and beg. Don't kid yourself"it takes guts. There are motorists who look away and worse still are those who don't. They look straight at you with disgust like you are an alien or a monster. It reminds me of a story a friend once told me. He'd been hired by a sanitation department to ride on the back of a garbage truck. On his first day, a friend from high school pulled up behind the garbage truck in a new BMW and there you are holding on to the back of a garbage truck.

bonbaselife.car.blog/2020/01/14/your-fault/

Authors Bio:

I who am I? Born at the pinnacle of American prosperity to parents raised during the last great depression. I was the youngest child of the youngest children born almost between the generations and that in fact clouds and obscures who it is that I am really.

Given a front row seat for the generation of the 1960's I lived in Chicago in 1960. My father was a Democratic precinct captain, my mother an election judge. His father had been a Union organizer and had been beaten and jailed for his efforts. His first time in jail was for punching a Ku Klux Klansman during a parade in the 1930's. I never felt as if I was raised in a family of activists but seeing it print makes me think, yes. That is a part of who I am.

We find ourselves today living in a world treed by the hounds of madness, a complicit media covering contrite parties. Multilevel media, giving more access to communication yet stunting actual communication. More noise, less voice, more sound less music, more law less justice, more medicine less life.