A Hobo Tale

A nice still life with a nice bowl of fruit for my family (see my last post).

{ 2008, Canon PowerShot SD, Digital }

A friend of mine saw the photos in my last post and jokingly told me, “That’s my hobo.”  He used to hang out in a different shopping area she had frequented and she would give him and his dog food when she saw them.  She even got him a haircut and shave once, too.  Apparently, he had a stroller that he pushed his dog around in when it was hot or the dog was just too tired, I guess.

I was at a coffee shop today and saw two very dirty (and shifty) vagrant men each pushing a stroller down the street.  The first man’s “baby” was an LCD computer monitor, the second man’s was an assortment of trash bags filled with who-knows-what.

I watched as the second man burrowed through an ashtray for cigarette butts with his bare hands.  He deposited his unburied treasures into a specific section of his stroller, wiped his hands on a grubby white towel, and strolled away.  It would seem that strollers are the “it” accessory to have among the urban camper set.

My friend and I don’t know what our hobo’s story is.  He wasn’t terribly dirty or shifty.  He wasn’t seen drinking or smoking, nor did I smell it on him.  Maybe at another time of day it would be different.  His dog had a coat on, was well-behaved, and appeared well-fed.  Anyone that cares for an animal has to have good in them, I think.

Part of the discussion with my family when they first saw the photo was me saying that nobody plans on their life being like that.  The reply was, “Yes, but they accept it.”  True enough.  Although, I recognize that many people like that are significantly hindered by mental illness and addictions.  That can make the path to change even more difficult – but I don’t think impossible.  Our circumstances and state of mind at any given time affects the decisions we make.

Listen, anyone that knows me knows that I am not exactly the softy type.   That’s partly why my family was so stunned by my interaction with that man and his dog.  But my heart isn’t so hard that I can’t see beyond the surface and show compassion for another.  When I see a down-and-out person I often try to think to myself, “That’s someone’s son/daughter.”  I’ll admit that can be difficult at times.

{ 2005, Sony CyberShot, Digital }

I think there’s a similarity with how I look at the run down structures I’m often drawn to photograph.  They exhibit varied textures from neglect, passing time, and a harsh environment.  It is their scars that make them unique.  They have stories to tell.  I wonder, ”How did they get like this, isn’t there anyone to care for them?  What did they used to be like?”  Some structures seem they could be fixed up with some TLC.  Sadly, others seem to be in such a state of disrepair that they’re on the verge of being torn down.

{ 2005, Sony CyberShot, Digital }