Box, bin or Bart

People who have a home to get to are trying every which way: train, plane, and automobile

(Remember John Candy and Steve Martin?).

For those who are homeless to begin with (and Thanksgiving dinner at the Mission was already behind us): box, bin or Bart will do.

Prince William wants to “rough” it, to develop some sort of schema to begin to comprehend the issue of homelessness.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/eu_britain_prince_william

There is nothing harsher than a freezing cold night in Boston. And I had done a very small part feeding the homeless with hot soup and sandwiches.

They were found sleeping in train stations, asking me what time it was (night and day seem to overlap in their case).

Disorientation is the word.

To look them in the eyes, to acknowledge their humanity and to have the privilege of helping these folks out was beyond measure.

I hope the Prince got some flashes of “enlightenment”, the same way Buddha was purported to have done while being Prince.

I guess that’s part of training: understand your constituency, the same way “mystery shoppers” are about trying to understand poor customer service from the stand point of a shopper.

We are entering deeper into the 21st century, deeper into scientific understanding of both what’s out there in space and inwardly at the atomic level. Yet, some of the issues that stare into our faces on a daily basis haven’t got their day in court, such as housing for the poor, jobs for the restless and food for the hungry.

Researchers all want to excavate ancient cultures to study their artifacts: their arts and architecture, writing and jewelery. Yet, someday, the same will be said about our civilization: a lot of cheap stuff, some decomposed, others not.  Many will be found buried near each other, others alone.

It’s fitting that the season of nativity extols the human family, albeit homeless. The idea is togetherness, train, plane or automobile.

Home is not a roof over one’s head. Home again, is where our heart finds its faster tempo every time we think of that special someone, somewhere. Prince William was exposed to the shelter at age 13. I am sure on that restless cold night,

his thought would travel back to that special moment when his mother showed him, and not sheltered him, from the hard facts of life: same Sun, same ozone, but it could be very different for different people, depends on your circumstances. And that Prince William has a choice to sleep in bed or on the floor. Others do not. Just box, bin, or Bart. When in the train station, we have learned to tune-out, to avoid eye-contact, and to selectively filter out the unwanted (for survival from psychological overload). We behave like 21st century men and women, yet our surrounding lags behind us, as if still were in century past, where “Les Miserables” is not a play, but a daily occurrence.

I hope someone will think of dropping something off at Goodwill, or stop at the Salvation Army guy who rings the bell.

Again, it’s a volunteering act. It’s a personal choice. That’s the privilege afforded to all, not just the Prince. Anybody can give, least of which is a smile during this Joyous of all Seasons.