If You Could Be Me; If I Could Be You

I took my wife to the local mall last week and while she shopped, I sat in the center court area at Von Maur and listened to the piano music, which is always good. It wasn't long before my calm, peaceful and tranquil moment was interrupted by two women gibber jabbering about panhandlers they see around the Decatur city. The two well-dressed ladies were unhappy with what they believe is a "disgusting sight." Two thoughts came to mind immediately and then two more on the heels of the first two. Sure, I'll unwrap them for you.

First, I thought it's that time a year when homeless folks will scramble for warm places to bed down. Then I wondered  just how many of those local corner beggars are homeless vets. I read recently where military veterans only make up about eleven percent of our population but twenty-five percent of our homelessness. By now my thought-machine has kicked into high gear. Having spent nearly forty years in high school hallways, I recall observing military recruiters periodically hawking young boys in those hallways offering "pie-in-the-sky" promises to them. Many of those recruit targets were marginal (academic) students and from families, which were incapable of providing a college education. Now, I couldn't help but wonder just how many of those Corner panhandlers are vets who left high school to fight corporate America's war. This brought me to my next thought: I wonder what percent of CEO's sons will sleep under a viaduct this Thanksgiving night compared to military veterans. My final thought was focused on the two old biddies and their unsubstantiated reasoning for judgment.
(Touch)
If You Could Be Me; If I Could Be You