Neighbors

Romeo is all tuckered out after our midday walk down to the park.  Our route takes us out at a point where it crosses New Hampshire Avenue and Sligo Creek on our way back up to the entrance of our neighborhood.  Today as we approached the creek, we both caught the scent of carnitas roasting.  Him being from Central America, and I have both lived there and visited on a few occasions, we both began salivating.

The six lanes of New Hampshire Avenue cross Sligo Creek along with a separate boardwalk bridge connecting both sides of the sidewalk on the eastern side.  The creek is fordable except when it rains and rises at such times becoming menacing in its force.  The flow of water normally resides a good 20 ft beneath the wrought iron I-bar spans of the bridge's framework.  The tempting aromas were wafting up from below. 

Glancing over the edge we spied a group of about 10 men.  They were cooking food and had a little makeshift table set up with vegetables, as well as, meats.  Most were lounging, a couple were wading in the creek, nearly all had removed their shirts to take in the warmth of the sun.  Even a passing glance made it clear that they were Hispanic, probably Central American--based on local demographics.  Their clothes were grimy, and their appearance led me to make them out to be in the late forties through sixties plus range.  Although that might be a bit inflated.  I believe they are members of the local homeless community and so a hard life can make one look much older than they are. 

Romeo was obsessed with them...or at least the smell and promise of some delicious carne de vaca.  One of the men looked up at us, and I smiled and waved.  He returned the smile and gesture which alert others of our intrusion into their gathering.  I waved again and they also smiled and waved back.  One even made "woof woof" greetings for Romeo, who began to wag his tail in anticipation.  Unfortunately for him, I did not read the moment as more than a neighborly encounter, and with some serious coaxing convinced him that our destination was home. 

I cannot imagine what it is like to be homeless.  I do know; however, what it ought to be like to be human, and kindness to the stranger should never be an option.