myself smitten by what some would consider the filth or scum of the earth. Last
April, I took steps through the wasteland in Cambodia, where I was challenged
by the unique camaraderie of two young pals.
both of these homeless lands. Driving a mile or so down College Street, headed
north in Charlotte, where I would soon find another.
mind. A quick recollection from my
past bombarded me… I was ten-years old. Only a young girl, peeking out of the foggy school bus window
daily, unsure of how to accept the extremes in life. A white kid, being bused from
comfortable middle class suburbia, into a low- income urban part of town to
attend elementary school in what most would call,”the ghetto.”
I felt like my two worlds were colliding right before my
eyes.
TRUTH IS: THE WORLD RESEMBLES THE DIVERSITY I MET IN THE
WALLS OF THAT SCHOOL BUILDING.
Is it bizarre that I don’t remember being the least bit
terrified of my surroundings? An unfamiliar environment, away from comforts
struck me as different, but, it did not cripple me.
I’m honest it’s not fair.
Confused with why my home in the suburbs was nothing likethe homes of my classmates. I would ask myself things like, “Why does Rick’s
lunch look like it came out of the trash can and mine from a restaurant?”
I still remember the nausea I felt in my stomach that day
while trying to eat my food. What do I say to my classmate? What was a fourth
grader to do? How can I make his
life better? Or, at least how can I make his food taste good.
And, the days we walked to the Discovery Place for
class field trips would not entail a detour through the swanky part of town. That is when my eyes acknowledged that
home for some looked more like a rolling cart on wheels than a roof and lots of
bricks.
— Constantly moving with nowhere to go or no place to call
home. —
OF ME.
emotion and uncertainty. Even at ten, I could not deny the reality before my
eyes. And, ever since then my heart has been tinted a shade darker with
compassion.
parts of it were like the projects (that was before the makeover.) Ten years
and a few billion dollars later, the new coined “uptown” better suites the
cleaned up look. Don’t get me
wrong, the city is well taken care of and it’s nice to walk through maintained
streets.
But last week, the skyscrapers seemed to declare their
power, shouting out, “this is what is acceptable now, bigger is better and
shiny is best.” This ignited a frustration & a fire inside of me. An onset
of claustrophobia was probably not far behind. My car, and me well, I’m not so
sure we stood a test against those 300 plus foot walls.
to keep up with the “to-do” list, I’d like to think of it as the time-line of
the world. The traffic light changed to green and I managed to infuriate the road
rage assassin for a simple crime. Who knew taking half a second to glance down the
street was a sin.
Some of the passerbys had semi-sincere smiles on their
faces. Others had no expression at
all.
I wanted to
ask, “What are you hiding?”
Further, north the concrete bridges and overpasses on the
same street are not large enough to cover the heads of those that use them as a
place to lay their head.
And, so settling in tent city, among the trees, removed & forgotten, is a more realistic option.
I ask myself, “Why can the world manage to gather funding
for multi-million dollar buildings on one street corner, and two street corners
down there are not enough resources to provide additional shelter for people
clearly in need?”
face.
I simple do not get it. There is a conflict within my soul.
Where College meets 11th, something happens. In a
few short yards, one extreme, an abundance of wealth, seems prevalent. Then, a few steps later, the other
startling reality appears… the FACES WITH NO ABODE.
