Yesterday I saw this amongst a pile of black garbage bags, filled with someone’s life. It was outside an assisted living community just on the other side of our park that I walk by daily. I’m not sure if someone passed away, was evicted, or was just getting a jump on moving before the truck got there. An elderly man was rummaging through the sacks in his underwear with socks and sandals on at 7:30am looking for something to wear. Again, not sure if he was the owner of all of these things or if he saw the grab bags from his windows and couldn’t wait to put on a pair of pants or a robe before diving in.

Today, this tiny decrepit altar supported by a flimsy children’s chair and a “Spell-Write Steno Book” to protect the altar from candle wax was the lone treasure still remaining … unless you count an empty five gallon bucket of soy sauce. Attached was a note from Northwest Center, a local donation group who helps folks with disabilities and other tough life situations. The note essentially said that this altar that was made in Thailand (given the Microsoft-esque sticker placed on top of it) was too broken and in need of repair to salvage. Likely, this was one of the main prized possessions in his/her apartment for years, and now, it’s waiting on the side of the road for someone else to see its beauty and give it a home.

He has a severe nervous twitch or some other disorder that causes him to grip his legs violently, twist his feet and hunch his back. His face contorts as he fights back angry mutterings from somewhere he can’t control in a language foreign to his fellow commuters. Worst of all, if this man were white, he wouldn’t get more than a second glance anywhere on Seattle Metro’s free ride zone, granted, people would still probably find a different seat due to potential Pioneer Square BO. However, since he is Muslim people look overtly antsy. They’re watching his every move and he’s making a lot of them. When he reached for his glasses we were transfixed. Honestly, I feel awful for the situation I saw him in. He looks like a very proud man who has lived a good life based on his attire, grooming, and what I could perceive as a strong desire to fit “the norm”. I loathe that for a moment I joined the ranks of the society that I’ve fought so hard to not be a part of and felt fear. I loathe this to my very core. As we left the Light Rail, he galloped up the escalator, passing others half his age off towards his day. Sir, I’m sorry for my momentary lapse in prejudicial judgement. Hopefully the rest of Seattle will greet you with the smiles that were devoid on the faces of those around you on your train this morning.