It’s not like it never goes through my mind that this might
seem a crazy thing
I’m doing; the sign, the newsletter, now this daily blog.
Some mornings I’m walking with the sign in its big Kinko’s bag and I’m just
about where I’m going to stand with it and it hits me that I haven’t even
connected clearly to my reason to be there again another day, that I’m on
automatic pilot. But it always happens, never doesn’t, that I’ll be prompted by
some need to get meaning, to take five seconds and flash to an image of poor
kids on some inner city street like I’ve seen in countless black and white
photographs, (surprisingly never to an image from a movie or a TV show [I
know, I should see ‘The Wire’]), and I’ll know why I’m there again, and I pick
up my step. Crazy as it may look to some people that I’m there again. Crazy as
it may seem to my kids.
I don’t want it to be seen as crazy. The sign’s message is
too important. That’s why I don’t stay for more than an hour. That’s why if the
weather is severe I stay home.
It may not seem crazy to my kids. But, if it does now, it won’t
some day.
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