My husband stopped our car at the red light where two main city arteries converged. A young man sat beside the busy intersection. He stared at the ground five feet in front of him. Printed in neat letters on the cardboard sign he held was the word, “Homeless.” A blast of icy wind blew his … More Native Sons & Daughters
For a solid week before another native son died, the song played through my mind: “Good morning, America. How are ‘ya? Don’t ‘ya know me? I’m your native son . . . .” https://genius.com/Arlo-guthrie-the-city-of-new-orleans-lyrics https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klgr0C9V2sM If only the message was understood. Maybe someone could have reached out. Maybe he would have listened. Just. This. Once. … More Do You Understand?