Seattle Home Inspector's Blog

     She sits on a red, white & blue green five gallon bucket that says, “drywall-compound.”

     Most of the fingers on her gloves are missing and frayed.

     She wears an army-green trash-bag raincoat that is big enough to cover all but her Nike sneakers.

     Her breathing makes little clouds in the icy drizzle. 

     She is almost always at this particular corner and she always waves when I go by---even though I sense that if the car was empty she would still wave.

     I do what I can to avoid eye contact---but never succeed in avoiding feeling guilty.

     Her haggard cardboard sign says that she is homeless, hungry and that she wants God to bless me.

     For sure----by comparison----“something” has truly blessed me.

     It is more likely that I have merely won the lottery----and that I am just not willing to accept that God would make such choices for our lives.

     The parent in me can’t help but think that she is, or was, someone’s Princess.  Also, I can’t help but wonder what her parents wrestle with every day as a result of what she has become or not become----but then again perhaps they themselves are on a street corner somewhere----or somewhere worse.

     Do they care?

     Can they afford to care?

     On their best days do they merely forget?

     And what does the Princess think?

     Does she care?

     Can she afford to care?

     On her best days does she merely forget?

     Thanks-giving.

     I find it impossible to comprehend my own good fortune relative to what I see in the lives of some others. 

     For the large majority of us in this great country, the current economic “crisis” pales in comparison to how fortunate we actually are.

     The choices we make----that bring each of us to where we are----are not as predictable as we almost have to believe.

    I am sure it soothes our consciences, to think that people like my Pail Princess got to where they are totally of their own making----refusing to accept that we are all closer to our own cardboard signs than we can afford to admit.  We may even be co-conspirators in their presence----if not co-dependent.

     As we gobble our turkey today (or its substitutes), I would like for us to wonder: if we plucked off all our own feathers what would we find underneath?

     Hopefully we would each find the best turkey that we can be----and there would be plenty to go around.

     Let us each dig down deep and muster all the thankfulness we can.

     Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Charles Buell

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