portraiture

I’m proud today, not puffed up in any accomplishment of my own, but in that of my nephew Aaron (not pictured), USC graduate with a Master’s Degree in Architecture. It a big accomplishment and accompanied by many departmental awards he has finished as one of the top in his class.

Post the ceremony we are invited to a hosted lunch to see the works of the graduates of 2012.

Equally proud families cluster in groups, all sharing tales of educational accomplishments, incurred student debt and endless “we made it!” hugs.

And as I sit enjoying my veggie wrap, apple and cookie, I strike up a chat with Thomas, co-supporter of the 2012 graduating class. He is impossible to ignore with his warmth of personality, but equal to that, the USC colors that he so comfortably wears have grabbed my attention.

I ask, “What words of council do you have for the world?”

Appropriate to the day, Thomas declares his charge, “Work hard and passionately on anything you do.”

Here is a funny, but kind of true side note… I later meet Thomas’ family, all as warm as he, all passionate to speak out and all smiling with joy for the day. His oldest daughter is in attendance and with tremendous wit, she gives us a short council, “Don’t be an ***hole! That’s it… and it’s that simple.”

We all break out into laughter as I tell her, that funny enough, over the last couple of weeks that exact sentiment has been at the top of the 365 responses. As harsh as it sounds, it’s really good straight advise… and as outlandish as it is, its possibly words to consider in making our daily decisions.

That said, lets step back from the silliness and pick it up in looking ahead.

Thomas defines his observance of society, “The reality is that the world is very confrontational.

So many people are black and white in their expectations. Basically, too many individuals believe they are right and everybody else is wrong. They pick their sides and are immovable. Therefore, to make any change… it’s almost war. And rather than each side listening to each side’s position or argument, they would rather blindly fight.

We need to realize we were all born into the same earth; and we all have to live together on the same planet. We all have to recognize we are all human.

Too many become self-centered in creating their own individual worlds and do not look out for the communities around them. This mentality has to change.”

Thomas and I share a nostalgic moment, “I remember my dad’s time and my life as a kid…” Thomas ruminates, “…it was different then. Businesses were not only about profit; they were more considerate of the fact that it was also about giving people jobs. Now new corporations are mostly concerned with making money and people are expendable. There are too many companies that lack humanity.”

Families are calling now, time to go see the works of our kids.

Thomas… Keep your positive perspective on society, and never forget, as told to us by many of our 365 friends, “The works of one are measurable.”

You point of view is impactful; it challenges us to listen, to respect each other and suggests to us a much fairer method of resolving conflict.

Thomas directs us to not necessarily feel like we have to perfectly agree as a whole. That would be an impossible task, and one that would run risk in suppressing the blessings of individuality.

What he is instructing is this… that we at least listen, and if we disagree, to take a fair stance in our lifestyles, our voting, and in finding ways to promote our causes that does not destroy others who are in differing courts.

I’m not saying that we ignore the intolerable, the murderous or any action that is an atrocity to humanity or the planet as a whole. But what is worthy of consideration is this, that in any war we choose to wage… we deeply explore all the sides of the conflict before we engage; and in that, we heavily consider the individuals involved in said conflict. It’s sad that too many times, innocents are lost in the shrapnel of the greedy or in through the proclamations of un-sounded opinion.

Today we celebrate a new generation of leaders at this USC graduation day. A day that, I’m sure, is being mirrored at many other educational institutions this afternoon.

And in this unified right of life starting, or life changing bon voyage… may we take example from its notions of solidarity, of hopefulness for the future and of its associated reflections on teamwork. All emotions that I am positive radiate from the list of campus’s conducting similar proceedings.

And with this example, shall we all choose to embrace one another in a cap throwing cheer and charge of passage.

The courtyards are clearing now, caps have settled, gowns returned and the podium seen its last commencement speaker or the season. But as we depart the grounds in symbolically honoring our personal campuses of life, we are reminded to review our diplomas of lessons learned.

Absolutely… we all have all studied different disciplines in our individual schools of situation, and in doing so, have all received certifications for endlessly varied courses of study.

Yet in all diplomas received this day, is inscribed one simple line of calligraphy.

That line, “Keep up the good fight.”

Thanks Professor Thomas! We here you loud and clear.

“Please don’t make me think about the future…!” long pause “…bottom line, the people are too complacent and I just want them to wake up!” Chimes Tasha, spokesperson for the self-titled “Patio Rats” in their nightly gather at, yes, I’m here again, Starbucks.

My philosophy this evening: “Sit down, shut up and listen.”

And with hot chocolate in hand, that is exactly what I do as I review my day, one that has literally been a historical and political feast.

So I sit, listening, resting after a days outing with my family at the Ronald Regan Library, as I collate the data that my mind has absorbed this day.

Flashes of the Cold War, The Berlin Wall, the military build up of the eighties, the era’s patriotism and the economic boom of the Regan administration.

Now before I go on, I must clarify that this entry is not written with any political agenda other than to report of the friends I have met. But what is relevant is the fact that, without my influence, tonight’s discussion mirrors the very nature of the exhibits I am coming from… That being… “We the people.”

And in honor of the theme, I inaugurate this hour as the Patio Rats debates, “Let us commence the proceedings?”

Tasha cracks the gavel and with her opening statement, and the summit opens, “I’m disgusted with the government and how separated we are by the political parties right now.

They care so much about their own political rightness and their quest for reelection that they ignore the people. How dare they take our money, our time and our input and do nothing for us!”

The gauntlet is laid down and the debates heat up, no topic is loosed: we chatter politics, explore the effectiveness of movements like Occupy Wall Street and the wasted costs of the movement, we reflect on the current economy, taxes, the state of healthcare, and the negative affects of self-entitlement vr. the empowerment of a unified people.

Vincent steps to the podium, “It’s about personal ethics and taking responsibility for your life.

You make your own decisions and you won’t necessarily get everything you want in life. But if you choose to work for what you want, you can get it. We’ve all had hard times, but hard work pays off. Just don’t be and ***hole.”

He throws a stab at politics, “It’s like the movie ‘Dawn of the Dead’ (referring to the democrats).”

Markus addresses the floor in offering a plea to the citizens, “We are all going to get tired of the way things are, and we will do something about it. I think that one day we will all stand up and fight.

People will say enough is enough. They will wake up from the last twenty years of shit.”

Starbucks store management breaks our caucus, “We are closing now; you have to clear the patio.”

With this Tasha leaves the closing argument, “They want us to lower ourselves to the lowest common denominator so that the little guy feels like a genius, rather than to aspire to greatness.”

“Aspire to greatness,” Tasha quotes. To not settle for mediocrity… or to be blindly herded… or to allow ourselves to be stripped of our agency to grow our own lives.

The Patio Rats have convened, and in the ending of their nightly conference have pushed us to consider our aspirations and what we intend to do with them.

In leaving I have been sworn into the group, and I’m sure we will be hearing from them again.

Talk tomorrow my friends.

It’s a hot, still aired and brightly sunny as I seek refuge, perching myself on a set of shaded bleachers that overlook a field where my heat-loving daughter is blissfully enjoying her soccer practice. Shakes my memory back to my Las Vegas days of youth, and of my baseball practices in similar weather.

I have this theory: “All people are born with a limited amount of hot weather credits. Credits that are theirs to use when, how and where they desire.”

Being raised in the deserts of Nevada, I must have used them all early in my life. At eight years old, barefoot runs on baking sidewalks drew no blisters. At thirteen, desert forts, or should I say rock ovens, provided a place of rest, and at fifteen, 112 degree marathon bike rides promised a fresh breeze in the face. Three digits were the name of the game with all of us summer-enjoying kids unrelenting in answering the call of the sun.

It is apparent that my kid has inherited my once golden skinned genes – other than her red cheeks, the heat of the day has not impacted her. However, I’m a different story, sitting idle, sun credits depleted, safely cocooned in the attitude protecting shade and enjoying the happenings of the day.

It’s blasting hot as I am approached by groundskeeper Darryl (not photographed), “You may want to move, I need to water the field and you’re probably going to get some over-spray.”

Salvation has arrived, yet in it, a bummer of a reality hits me. My MacBook is in lap and we all know that water and electronics don’t mix very well.

I move to a drier place next to the control panel where Darryl and his helper are positioned, monitoring the watering.

No big deal, more new friends to talk to. I tell them about 365.  Darryl, although very intrigued, chooses to pass on being interviewed, understandably, “I’m on the clock, but you should interview my volunteer Demi.”

Feeling a little sun beaten and unprepared to be photographed, Demi initially declines. So we just chat, Darryl, Demi and I, no pressure, no pull of coercion, other than my sincere compliment to Demi’s photogenic looks.

“I bet you tell that to everyone,” Demi harasses me.

Not really. I’m a beauty photographer and a portraitist. I’ve learned to call things as I see them. I never bag on people, but if I have something constructive to say, I’ll be the first to say it.

“Thanks you, made me feel better.” Demi confirms as she looks towards Darryl for approval.

“You should do it,” Darryl encourages.

Demi pauses, “OK, let’s do it!”

“You only live once, but I bet you hear that all the time?” She begins.

But with this Demi throws an action item, “Take advantage of every opportunity that is put in your way.

“Community service has opened me up, and drives me to want to do more for the community.”

At only twenty-four Demi show great maturity in her outlook; I see why Darryl pushes her to speak with us.

Demi describes herself, “I’m into the conspiracy theory.”

“Like how?” I ask.

“I don’t believe we are the only planet that has life on it, not that we have been visited or anything. But it just makes sense that there is life on other planets.”

“That’s not really conspiracy…” I comment, expanding my opinion, “… you’re not talking of a big cover up or hidden agenda. You are talking of something that many of us accept. Why with an infinite universe can anyone say that we are the only planet that can support life? Doesn’t make sense to me either.”

We smile in agreement.

Demi cares about people, manifest in her optimism for those who are hungry and unsheltered. “Hopefully in the next fifteen years we will have enough food in the world where no one will have to go hungry. More shelters and food drives for the homeless.”

One comment catches me a little curious. “We’ll have more billionaire inventors.”

“You mean like the guys who came up with Google, Facebook and that kind of billionaire?” I confirm.

“Yea, I want to see more people find success.” Demi clarifies.

I think I get it. What Demi is talking about is not corporate greed – really the reverse. What she is talking about is a future that is open to allow for the innovation and rewards of personal initiative. And in this randomly inserted wish for the next generations, Demi has empowered us in giving us license to dream.

“Life is too short to hold grudges or to be mean…” Demi advises.

“… I would hate to one day look back on my life and say I missed an opportunity to help somebody.”

The sprinklers stop and I know it’s time to wrap,

“Do you have any last thoughts you’d like to express,” I conclude in readying my camera to take our photos.

I begin to focus.

“I have one more,” Demi pauses her pose, “Be a giver… don’t be a taker.”

Demi, keep giving… All you do counts!

The scene: King Arthur and his nights have approached the French castle, and upon the Arthur’s claiming of the castle, the French guards react. Standing upon the top fortress’s wall and with broken French accent, they proclaim, “I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.”

You don’t frighten us, English pig dogs. Go and boil your bottoms, you sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called “Arthur King,” you and all your silly English K-nig-hts.

No, now go away or I shall taunt you a second time.”

If any of you are Monty Python fans, you know the origins of the above dialogue – the 1975 classic film, “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”

And in perfect British wit, This Python bit sets the stage in explaining the mindset I experience this evening in meeting today’s troupe of merry artisans.

Flash back… 7:00pm, I get this bright idea to do a nature hike, sure that I will walk into someone who is open to conversation. After all… everyone who is into nature is ready to share something…? Or at least I assume?

Half mile out from trail head I trudge, carrying my forty-five pounds of camera backpack, inducing my very patient lower vertebrate to shake its finger at me, “Dude! Pick up the pace and your attitude, I want to see feet moving and personality kicked into extrovert overdrive…Find a friend now! Or, I’m going to hurt you!”

Forty-five minutes I press, and after eight “thanks, but no thanks” conversations, I surrender to the darkening of the sunsets glowing sky in retreat to regroup at base camp car.

Crud! I’m on the edge of missing the sweet light of day’s end, and with this admission, my mid back cries out, “I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper.”

My brain fights back in pulling another scene from its Python database. The words of the “Swamp Castle King” in speaking of his digs, “When I first came here, this was all swamp. Everyone said I was daft to build a castle on a swamp, but I built in all the same, just to show them. It sank into the swamp. So I built a second one. That sank into the swamp. So I built a third. That burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp. But the fourth one stayed up. And that’s what you’re going to get, Lad, the strongest castle in all of England.”

My spine forgives me, “Carry on sir 365… I pledge alliance to your cause sire.”

… Back to present, and the fourth castle.

Safely buckled into my auto isolation… Trail behind me… The street light is out (just my luck)… and with cars self trafficking through the intersection, I am on hyper alert in focusing on the surroundings. A side hit right now would be icing on the cake of day ending to fast.

As I survey the situation in preparing for my pedal to the metal push for friendship, I scope the earlier mentioned troupe of merry artisans as they lean over the second floor of a corner office complex.

Now here is my French castle moment!

I reign my four-wheeled steed to a halt and with enlarged chest, I walk up to the “Fortress Office”, and standing at parking lot level I look up upon the walls, “Hail ye men, and women, of land unknown, wilt thou lay down thy opinion to the quest of crusade 365.”

We’ll, perhaps my words were a little watered down from that. But none-the-less, the risk feels the same.

Maybe I’m feeling a bit self-loathing after my preceding dismissals as I ready myself for my mocking’s in expanding my oration, “I query that thee not refuse me, for I have traveled many rejections to be here… and the quest is long. Lower your gates my good neighbors. Allow me to enter thy chambers in a token of solidarity… May our kingdoms unite?”

Hey, pretty snappy writing, don’t you think?

“Come forth my balding friend, we reach out our hands in acceptance of your request, enter thy gates.”

The courts have decided, and have welcomed me an audience. The trumpets sound, “We are the people of Hidden-LA, there is no peril before you Sir Richard, for we are the world of ink, and in that… the world of peace.”

Turns out I have run into a newly established tattoo salon and fine art gallery, and my new friends are as I aforementioned, an eclectic bunch of amazing artisans, and better yet, warm and ingratiating people of planet earth.

We get together as a parliament of sorts. No one individual takes the lead in the answering of any question. Concepts, ideas and personalities are jousted towards in fellowshipping me at a pace that is too astonishing to completely absorb, but here are a few brief notes that may shed some light on the culture of Hidden-LA and its population.

“The world of ink is a world of peace.”

“Keep your side of the street clean.”

“Stay hungry and be humble.”

“Be thankful for what we have, there is always someone with less.”

“Feelings are your friends.”

“Question everything.”

“Life is a garden…Dig it!”

“Dream big.”

“Get out of the kitchen, unless you are a woman…” “Ouch! That’s going to get us in trouble,” I suggest as the whole group laughs in receiving a thumbs up from its one female citizen.

“Keep learning. Learn a little about everything, not a lot about one thing.”

“Get tattooed more.”

“Tell the people that you love, that you love them.”

“Kids of today are getting brainwashed, they need to go outside and to not forget to be kids.” So much is this belief buried into the DNA of Hidden-LA that one of its owners, Brett, has dedicated a year of his life in publishing a coloring book. It’s intent is to not only expose children to a different kind of artwork, but more importantly, to give them an art outlet that pulls them away from the traps of a virtual life. Very cool stuff!

The pace slows down when addressing the future, city Hidden-LA huddles, and spokesman Brett speaks for the township, “Even with politics, and throughout any negative times, people will continue to slowly come together.

Hopefully we will still be here.”

Noble friends of Hidden-LA, I will again journey to your land, for it is a place of art, and a country of acceptance. For these things, I give you my gratitude in allowing me into your boarders.

Boarders that this un-tatted conservative hippy guy is now familiar with; boarders that I will certainly visit again …and that, my liege’s, is how we know the Earth to be banana shaped.

Late last night I receive a phone message, recorded at 10:47: “Yeah… I believe I’ve got the right number… this is Cowboy Bob… a friend of your 365… and you can call me back at this number, 000-000-0000… and I should be somewhere up near Platt all morning… I’d like to meet up with him maybe like 1 or 2 or 3… somewhere in that area… just have him call me sometime about noon or so… OK”

I know exactly who it is at first voice. Back to Pappy, our friend of day 234, at the close of our time together, he introduced me to the Cowboy. As I do with everyone I meet, I extended a hand of friendship by offering a 365 business card with an accompanied invitation to be interviewed. Bob is the first to accept the offer.

We catch up at an agreed upon location – a nearby park that is slowly becoming a base meeting place for several of our 365 meetings. So at an agreed 3pm, Bob and I sit for the beginning of a two-hour interview of which, in respect to keeping the word count manageable, I am only able to give you a thumbnail overview.

“I dressed up for you,” Bob interjects, extending his arms to showcase the leather work of his jacket, as we begin our dialogue. It’s a hot afternoon and the fact that he wears long sleeve leather is an indicator of the pride he has taken in being at his best in conversing with us.

Bob is nearly deaf so I ask minimal questions, leaning back to take note of his endless commentary.

Bob has seen a lot in his life, and just like Pappy, he is a protector of the streets. “Lots of people on the street call me Dad,” he proceeds in sharing his life story.

“They look at me like a dad – they adopted me.” The Cowboy stances as he tells me of one of his street adoptee’s: “One day I’ll introduce you to Joey, he is thirty-eight and just got a job. He got it at Kaiser. He needed medical help. Then they got him set up in assisted housing, and now they are giving him a computer job. Joey is a good kid and has a great story.”

The Cowboy goes on, telling me of others in his extended street family and of a range of situations. Things like, police abuse, gang influences and the difficulties for homeless women.

What impresses me is how connected Bob is. During our interview he accepts several phone calls from a few of his friends. One stands out, his current girlfriend, who in Bob’s words: “She is a sweet girl. I love her.”

After six years on the street, Bob and she are finding a roof over their heads at a local group housing facility; a facility that he thanks for the aid that they give to not only himself, but to the others whom he finds himself now cohabitating with.

Bob speaks of his history, “I was born in Saint Louis, Missouri. My dad was gone early in my life. I think he went to Indiana. My mom became bedridden with varicose veins. That is when a Los Angeles couple, through the system, adopted me. I was about ten.”

They wanted to change my name, but that ended up not happening. My mom named me after the Robert E. Lee riverboat. I remember standing on the river and crossing a bridge that is long gone. They tore it down to build the arches. That is why I love the riverboat at Disneyland; it brings back good memories. My mom was a beautiful woman; I’ll never forget her red hair.”

“Were your adoptive parents good parents?” I question.

“Not at all!” Bob reacts, “They claimed they were Christians, but they weren’t. They beat us, locked us in rooms. At the time we were too scared to tell anyone.”

In saying, “Us,” Cowboy Bob refers to his two brothers. “I stay in touch with my brother William, he is a good guy. My other brother is demented and I don’t know where he is.”

They say the sins of the parents fall on the children, and in hearing of Bob adoptive parents, my stomach turns to even think of the pains that the Cowboy has endured in his childhood. But there is a silver lining to the story, “They tried to break me, but I never lost faith, and I have to give credit to the grandmother from my adopted mother; she was good, and also my real mother’s mom, they taught me the real God, and to stay away from drugs and alcohol.”

“Later in life I found my drug, riding bulls and motorcycles,” Cowboy Bob admits as he makes a joke, “It was safer than dealing with California drivers.”

Our conversation continues, jumping from subject to subject:

“I played harmonica with many bands in various country clubs.”

“I was a bodyguard for wrestlers (I was a tiny guy, that is what scared people)”

“All single moms should learn martial arts.”

“I was married twice, loved my wives, but they passed away.”

Married twice? The doors to a deeper inquiry swing wide open. And with that exposed and the day getting late, I offer Bob a ride to his shelter. As we walk to the car we begin our dialogue regarding his later life history. We start from the present and work backwards.

“My Wife died 6 years ago,” Bob opens up. “That is when my homelessness started. We had an apartment and I was told that legally I had six months to vacate. But the police came, and with all the neighbors fighting for me, they hand cuffed me; then forced me out of my apartment. They took off the handcuffs and at gunpoint forced me across the street. All of my possessions, even my briefcase with my paperwork was left behind. I’ve been homeless since.

Later I got a motor home, same stuff happened. It was impounded for expired tags, even though they were current. DMV said I was legal and needed to go to the Spring Street court to work it out. I called the impound; they told me my motor home would not be sold. I went to court the next day, then to the impound. When I got there they told me they sold my home the day before for $75. Everything I had was in it.

I was trying to get back to Arizona, where I lived with my first wife. It is a better place for the homeless. But after I lost my motor home I had no way of getting there.

The police in Reseda and Van Nuys are very tough on the homeless. I’m just trying to survive.”

“I remember living in Arizona and Utah with my first wife.” He tells me of his homes and of his Palomino horses, “Oh they were beautiful playing in the snow, we used to just sit back a watch them in the winter. Those were great days.”

Bob tells us of his children, two of which he is still in contact with.

“We home schooled and my kids made it. At sixteen, my youngest daughter had twelve teaching units. Now at 41 she is married with two daughters and works as a pastry maker.

“My eldest daughter was working in veterinary clinics at seventeen, now she is a pharmacist.

“I lost track of my other daughter.”

In two hours there is no way I can really know Bob’s true history, but in all that he says it is not to me to judge or to make assessments. So the contrast in knowing the whereabouts of only three of his children, to that of loosing one is subject to no conditions.

I myself had several years in which I estranged myself from my parents. And that was in the best of circumstances. So there can be no blame placed without fully knowing the story. So all I can say is, request a hopeful perspective from all of us that Bobs missing daughter is OK.

Bob councils us, “Stick to the Bible… God’s word, and keep up the faith. Try not to get mixed up with all the different beliefs. Lean on God’s words. All these rumors of the world ending are wrong… it is only going to be the beginning.

“Prayers and keeping the faith is very important. God will give the strength and the power.

“You have to understand other people’s beliefs, so you can get alone or know how to protect yourself. And find people you can trust to council with.

“It will get worse before it gets better.”

The topic turns dark for a final push of advice, “I see people tattooing their children, that is what drugs and the devil does.

“People need to think of the children and their children’s future. And to do that… the people need to straighten up.

“My kids made it!” Cowboy Bob bears.

A point that drives deep into my heart. Like I noted earlier, “There is no way I can really know Bob’s true history.”

I’m absolutely certain that Bob has had a difficult life; a life that I can only assume would have easily crumbled many. I have a belief that none of us are given any hardship that we cannot bear. And, after speaking with so many people of the streets, I am coming to an awareness of the strength of character it takes to merely survive without a roof overhead.

To find a man who speaks responsibly of parenthood, of marriage and of faith. And a man who is continually striving to better his situation is a man to be respected.

Cowboy Bob, hats off to you, keep riding my friend.

“People are getting crammed closer and closer together, you start to realize that people are more dependent on people. I don’t know if they will realize that soon enough,” answers street performer Lou, a native Californian, regarding his observations of people.

It’s 9pm and the sidewalk is just starting to get busy with weekend traffic. Center to its building-up energy is Lou – quite, respectful and full of music to share with all who take time to stop to listen and talk with him.

I don’t know Lou at all, but there is a ray of hope that exudes from him. It’s like a subtle, yet tangible spark that draws me to him. A feeling that I am still in the infancy of understanding, but a feeling that has been present with every person who has stepped up to embrace the 365 invitation. And a feeling that, for the month of May, has been challenged to you to follow in navigating your every day lives.

With that, let us all call May the month of reaching out, and the challenge is to simple say hello to all in your path.

As Lou tells us in his above advice, “People are getting crammed closer and closer together, you start to realize that people are more dependent on people. I don’t know if they will realize that soon enough.”

In honor if his time, lets us all realize it for at least a month. Perhaps after that it will become second nature to us in passing on that message in our lives.

“OK, enough evangelizing Richard, tell us more about Lou.”

To start, Lou is very humble, warm and carries a calming deep voice. That accompanied by the depth of an ingratiating laugh captures the heart.

It blows me when Lou brings me up to speed by informing me that he has regularly posted himself at our meeting location, outside of one of my noted Sushi restaurants, for two and a half years.

It’s a wonder to me that, until now, Lou’s folk performances have gone unnoticed by me. I’ll not miss him again. And in meeting him, I’m happy to report that my community has once again reduced its size.

In respect to Lou’s livelihood I purposefully keep our time short. Funny thing how a cameraman can put a damper on business, and I don’t want to push too many people away from Lou’s audience.

“People should pay taxes to the proportion of their total wealth,” Lou proposes as he suggests, “We should move toward universal health care for free.”

An interesting premise – not sure if the extremely rich would agree with it. And, being firmly strapped in the middle class, I’ll be the first to admit, that although I am full of opinion on the subject, that perhaps the need for better health care vs. the power of big business in legislation is a viable argument for reform in heath care. A debate that is far too vast for my little blog, but maybe Lou is not that far off base. We’ll leave it at that.

Lou makes a sobering prediction for the future, “There will be twenty billion people on the earth and 1/3 of them will still be starving.”

I don’t know of Lou’s history, of his circumstances or of his religion. However, in speaking with him, I capture the vibe of his priorities in his response to my question, “What do you in see as people as they pass by?”

“It’s just people,” he tells me.

I’ve been on the streets since September 9, 2011, approaching close to 1500 people, and in that have interviewed a much smaller number. The conversations have been awesome. While in reaching out I have also been saddened to be ridiculed, verbally attacked and virtually ignored as non-existent on many an occasion.

All in all, it has been a great experience for the undertaking, rejections and acceptance.  I can honestly say that my eyes are greatly opened to the uniqueness of all people – approachable to distant.

However, I am not certain that as Lou has for years been interacting within the world of strangers in sharing his talents and message of unity, that I would still possess his powerfully accepting outlook of, “It’s just people.”

I show Lou a digital preview of the photos I take of him. “Yeah… That’s me,” he serenely smiles.

Lou’s smile is captivating; it is not forced or self-propelling. It draws you to him in a comforting way, and through it you can understand the sensitivity he seemingly subscribes to. The only regret I have in meeting Lou is that I do not fully capture his warming smile or laugh in picture, you just have to trust me that is does exist.

“What is you favorite piece of music?” I ask.

His reply might possibly express the side of him that I miss capturing through our snapshots. That music, although a little off base to the world of folk, addresses the nature of Lou, “Where is the Tenderness, by General Public.”

The song’s lyrics tell about a man who really needs tenderness to feel like a man. Here are a few lyrics from the song.

I don’t know when to start or when to stop
My luck’s like a button
I can’t stop pushing it
My head feels light
But I’m still in the dark
Seems like without tenderness there’s something missing

I don’t know where I am but I know I don’t like it
I open my mouth and out pops something spiteful
Words are so cheap, but they can turn out expensive
Words like conviction can turn into a sentence

“Words like conviction can turn into a sentence.”

Lou wishes me, “Good Luck” as I depart.

In life we have two choices:
“What is the most important thing to have?”
“What is the most important thing to lose?”

Questions that Ronnie leans on in navigating his life decisions.

“I came to the United States in 1978 when the revolution started in Iran and as I was accepted to college,” Ronnie introduces himself as we sit for a mall chat.

An entrepreneur, Ronnie is the owner of two Subway sandwich stores. But in the telling of his history it is quickly apparent that the pursuit of wealth is the farthest from his priorities.

“I have two franchises…” Ronnie tells us “… this one barely breaks even and it is a good thing that I have the other, but together they bring in enough for my families needs.

Money is not the most important thing.”

Leads me to inquire, “What is the most important thing, Ronnie?”

Ronnie responds in narrative form, “I remember when I was young, my neighbors were part of my family, and my family was very close.

I prioritize my job as second to my family.”

A life commitment that is telegraphed in Ronnie’s account of the choices that led him into the business of making lunch, “Years ago I sold my business and started something different that would allow me time with my kids.

My family is the most important thing in my life, and my wife and I do all that we can to spend time with our children.

Our basic priority is to always have dinner together. It is our time to talk, and from it, we are very close.”

We have spoken of family quite a bit throughout 365. And the definition of family has been explored in many ways. We’ve covered the spectrum, from families of birth right to families of association. In all is the evidence of a fundamental shared human trait: To be part of something more than the materialistic self. To be accepted, loved  and nurtured in one-way or another.

A premise that Ronnie subscribe to in his observations of the world, “People are more behaved now, more courteous and careful not to hurt another person.

I see how parents are trying to take care of their kids, and a society that more than ever does not let the kids be abused.

We are heading in a good direction, but the news tries to get attention on the negative.

It’s like, if a dog bites a man… that is no big deal… but if a man bites a dog, people pay attention.

Television is always trying to find the man who bites the dog in trying to shock us.”

“Where are we heading?” I ask Ronnie.

“It’s a revolution of information and we are all becoming one. The economy is not as bad as it was thirty years ago,” Ronnie begins as he projects ahead fifty years.

“In fifty years, life will probably be similar. Over the past fifty years we have had the best of everything. Technology will continue to grow, but we have already discovered so many of the life changing basics.

The biggest thing I see is that the people will be better.

The law is getting stronger and stronger, and it is no longer and eye for an eye.”

Ronnie counsels us, “The simple life is better”, as he departs his closing wisdom, “Never put your head on the pillow with worries.”

Ronnie introduced us to two choices:
“What is the most important thing to have?”
“What is the most important thing to lose?”

Simple questions with not so simple answers, and in giving them to us, Ronnie has shaken our minds a little. He calls us to take a quite moment of thought this evening. To reflect as we rest our heads down to sleep, “Do I have any worries…? And, if so… how can I lose them?”

In a small park far away from persecution, in a community unaffected by hunger and thirst, and with a group of families who in most respects have led a life not in need of the basic necessities, is found a spring of compassion.

A fountain of humanity that pours forth via no means of engineering or powered by any aquifer; but, rather an unstoppable source of outreach that flows through the minds and efforts of a special group of children this day.

A congregation of tomorrow’s leaders for a new world… and today, a gathering of what I have to refer to as, “My hero’s.”

“Where might we be?” you ask.

It’s our weekly park day, a day, where throughout the school year, fifty or more families gather in coming together in unity and education; a group of much diversity and life histories, yet today a group that has joined in one objective, to raise money to build wells in Sudan.

The brainchild not of the adults in this weekly community, but a project conceived by the very children (most of whom are under twelve years of age) we as adult are raising and chaperoning this day.

They have titled the day, “Walk for Water,” in doing their best to emulate the conditions that the children in Sudan suffer as they walk over two hours, up to twice a day, carrying water to their villages. Water that at many times is unclean and diseased.

So to be part of an assembly of not only informed, but well-researched children, who have all bonded together to do works of good is quite inspiring.

For reference, here are a few statistics on the water crises in Sudan:
• 12.3 million people only have access to contaminated water
• 30% of the rural population and 40% of the urban population have clean drinking water
• Only 5% of Khartoum’s population has access to a central sewage system
• Only 20% of rural dwellers have some form of sanitation services (usually pit latrines)

All facts that many of today’s walkathon kids know, and facts that are the result of following the first inspiration to organize this fund-raising event, the works of Salva Dut, a man featured in Linda Sue Park’s novel “A Long Walk To Water.”

Dut’s history in itself is cause for applause, but the important celebration this day is the walkathon that is occurring in his behalf. Uncountable numbers of children have pledged, even found sponsors to contribute dollars to the distances that they have committed to in carrying gallons of symbolic water. Water ranging in weight from one-half gallon to three gallons; water that they have pledged to feel the weight of for four miles of park laps; water that with blistered hands they unceasingly move forward in tribute in raise money to send to the Water for South Sudan Foundation.

A foundation that, as the brainchild of Dut, has one major goal: To save lives, build communities and to give rest and health to the many families and children of Sudan. Families and children who on a regular basis must trek a path that is not optional; but, fundamentally required for their literal existence.

I call these kids, “My hero’s.”

There is one child who grabs my attention, I young boy (he’s about six, for hours he has been dedicated to the weight of one gallon. I question the source of his tenacity, and in doing so; I have the privilege of meeting his mum… and fellow Brit, Jessica.

In Jessica’s opening words I quickly understand the origins of the special charisma that this young child so gracefully strides with, it’s a reflection of his parent’s outlook.

“Do what is right rather than what is expected,” Jessica challenges.

And although Jessica shares her sentiment with the humblest of tones, I take the liberty to upgrade her thoughts to a challenge, “You don’t have that opportunity every day of your life, every moment is an opportunity, and someone is always watching,” Jessica expands as she give credit to whom she refers to as her ultimate teacher… Jesus Christ.

Now here is her key to embracing the world, “Know that you are loved. And that love is a divine love just for you, and in that, there is a divine purpose in knowing god and being known by god.”

I’m sure we have all had our moments of feeling alone, or have got caught up in the fury of life’s pace and influences. Jessica refers to it as the machine in suggesting a self-reflection for us all, “Most of us have figured out that the machine does not satisfy…” she encourages.

“…And to make decisions based not on ones own good, but sacrificially for the good of others, this is the greatest of freedoms.

The way the world is currently heading is dangerous. We have to be careful not to live a life based on what we do… or on what we want, instead of living a life based on what we can give.

We can never know what is good for everyone else. That is judgment. God’s plan is to prosper us… not harm us.

 So if we listen to what the God of love wants for others, then through us, He can give it.

It is not about us knowing what is the best for those around us, it is about our ability to listen.”

As stated by Dep Tuany, Former Vice President, Water for South Sudan, 2009 – 2010, “Regardless of your cultural, tribal and religious belief, it all about humanity.”

Jessica, thank you for uplifting us with your faith in humanity. We will do our best to honor you.