By in Persona Paper

We Met at the Recycling Booth

There he was, with his bike loaded down with various gear. He was toting life support items mostly, wrapped with plastic bags and coarsely tied bungee cords. It’s covered to keep private, a random existence, yet so evident, that he is homeless. He probably resembled Aqualung, from the Jethro Tull album. His shaggy rough edges, marred by life’s bitter hardships; yet he remained determined.

He seemed to know the lady at the end of the line. Maybe they were romantic. But then she seemed to be much more talkative than him. She unloading her stash from the shopping cart while chatting up patrons from the store. Most would shake their heads and go about their business. She would smile at him, and he knew without a doubt, she was friendly. But she talks to herself too much, and folks shied away; still she would always smile.

People here call them recyclers, perhaps to be kind; but they don’t care. They get along just fine, with or without societies approval. Maybe it’s a part of human nature to adapt, because they find a way to make things work. Or maybe it’s simply believing, there is always a way.

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inertia4 wrote on August 3, 2015, 8:47 AM

I hate seeing homeless people. I think in america, no one should be homeless or go hungry. This country should be ashamed of itself. I thought humans were compassionate and take care of their own. I guess not. But these people, no matter what you want to call them have more humanity inside them than most people I know.

Feisty56 wrote on August 8, 2015, 12:03 PM

Thank you for sharing this observation. It tells me a lot about you, in addition to the two people you've introduced here. Most people are too uncomfortable around the homeless -- the "recyclers" to take such notice.