Weekly 5 – January 30-February 5

In honor of Afro-American Black History, Lena Horne who passed in 2010, black soldiers and Booker T. Washington [google image]

Every moment is like this...a full day of moments in stories.

Story One: As I approached Ryman for the post office a 6-foot guy was marching up and down that section of the street with a Starbuck large cup in his hand appearing to be very frustrated.  He approached everyone shaking this cup at each person and each person dropped their heads when the cup came to them.  Fashion was the parade of this moment in designer this and designer that but this parade did not come into this guy’s mind he just wanted people to put enough donations into the cup for something to eat.

When he approached me, I smile and said God bless you I have nothing for today.  He stopped in front of me and said, ‘Everyone’s just passing me by and all I want is some breakfast.’  I nearly had tears while saying, ‘I don’t have enough today.  He was so sad.  I watched him rush up the street towards more people.  I was tempted to give him my class supplies funds but I didn’t have any extra to give over.  I felt bad because this guy is standing near the post office entrance with his dog selling the Big Issue magazine.  He was always neat and cleaned and spoke to me with, ‘How are you today, good to see you.’  Leaving the post office I looked for him but he had moved on.  I wished that I had thought in the beginning to invite him to breakfast on my debt card.  I was too hurried going to the next place to have thought of this.

As the morning moved forward on the top deck of bus number six, Oxford Street west, at Primary [fashion retail store], an older gypsy woman was tormenting the public by pulling at their arms to donate money to her out reached right hand.  Even the police shooed her away but she gave him words with her shaking finger to his face.  What a contrast for one being in need and another being a nuisance.

Story Two:  The day moved onward in the moment of exiting bus 74 to the Science Museum. Four drinking characters, one female and 3 male in their 20s, approached me.  I thought to myself where do I go to avoid them.  There was no place to walk accept in the middle of the street.  The four of them, in a single, row spread across the pavement. I walked a slow pace in hope that they would not noticed me but one of them came straight towards me waving his, nearly empty, bottle of liquor and swaying to my right with a big smile on his masquerade painted face.  All of them had a different painted face and clothes.  The guy that approached me had black paint smeared from his blonde hair to the bottom leg of his jeans.  It was cold and he had on a short sleeve t-shirt.  I learned from previous meeting with drunks is to stop and give them the room to move onward.  This guy held out both of his arms in front of me with a big smile on his face.  He got closer and just hugged me and gave me a kiss on both cheeks.  I smiled.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Dorothy.’

‘Hi, Dorothy, you’re so lovely.’

‘Thanks’, looked him into his blue eyes.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Paul.  I’m an Auzzie.  Do you know where Auzzies come from?’

‘Yes.  Australia.’

He gave me two more hugs, as though I was his best friend. His companions called for him to get a move on it.  He wobbled, willing, with them and said, ‘Bye Dorothy.’

Having an open heart with joy can help even a drunken situation.  Whew!  It was nice to have the hugs and not even sobered people have given me squeezes like Paul’s, smile.

January ended and February begun  the start of Black History in America.  I am so excited to be working on an extension of my slavery project which keeps evolving into another story.