Posted: August 22, 2012 in Love, Politics, Uncategorized
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Politicians, the media, religious leaders and anyone with an opinion want to tell us what our ‘American’ dream is. What is a dream anyway? Webster defines it as a series of thoughts, images and emotions occurring during sleep.

Do you dream of balloon payments being due on your mortgage? Isn’t homeownership the ‘American Dream’? And really, you don’t actually ‘own’ it. The bank owns it for 15, 30, 40 years!

Do parents dream of paying thousands of dollars so that Tommy Jr can chug copious amounts of alcohol at a frat party? That kind of thing happens in colleges and universities (aka bastions of higher learning) all the time.

I think the American dream should be deeper and tailor-made to fit each individual American and documented or undocumented resident of this nation.

I would gladly forego ever owning a home, if one homeless family had a permanent home. Open eyes, intent ears and a humane heart has given me my higher education. I love learning from libraries, museums and the world.

I try my best to walk without blinders. My joy is in helping anyone. I get praises, but I’m the thankful one.  I’m thankful I was in a place where I could help.

I love buying a meal for a homeless person. Giving a tired woman at the bus stop a lift is great! Telling a random person, I love your ….. whatever, starts the domino effect of kindness.

People hold onto that for a very long time. I make it a point to look people in the eye and smile, because we all need that connection. That should be our collective goal. Being nice, friendly, kind and connected is priceless to so many.

I want to go to a park full of homeless people. Pass out sandwiches, ice-cold drinks and awesome cookies. Then I want to sit with them and talk for hours about anything.

I don’t need to problem solve, lecture, judge or question them. I just need to treat them like friends. And in doing so, I write a page in their book of life as they write in mine.

Several years ago, my homeless father died. He was found on the street by a police officer who knew him. He had suffered a stroke. When he died, it was the hospital with family around.

After the funeral, I went to a diner he frequented. I met people who helped him  I also met people my father helped. One of the best meals I ever had.


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