Community in Brief

His bag of necessities was lumpy and undistinguishable. His presence at the meeting was purportedly in pursuit of information but the cool, hum of air conditioning and lure of a padded seat may be equally appealing.

He plucked the stale, wrinkled clipping from the paper that announced the open, public forum from his pocket. He didn’t know the issues, or even what the company did, he just knew he was invited.

Long vowels punctuated an exaggerated sentence structure – not quite a California-surfer drawl.

He presented himself intelligently, asked questions, but is seemingly undereducated. His speech sounds much-like the pysudo intellect found in many college campus coffee shops debating the merits of Jack Keourac vs. William S. Burroughs as revolutionaries in beat writers. He has no basis for the theories, just eloquent prose. He remains much the same today -- a pony-tailed hippy with eyes too red and pupils too wide to avoid jumping to certain conclusions.

He asks his questions with all seriousness, followed by long periods of contemplative silence.

This a member of the crust. That outer rim between pure poverty and the floating middle class: Not quite lost but not quite saved.

“People can’t care about this situation because they can’t even care for themselves.”

It’s the basis for a debate he must wage with others. His rationale seems well-determined. Maybe it’s a theme among his contemporaries – one he feels applies to ever social cause such as this.

“They can’t even deal with the day-to-day,” he says.

Shredded Seran wrap circles his wrist, protecting him or keep him together, we are not sure. His too-white socks are pulled to his knees.

He came because he likes information. We arm him with packets, answer his questions and with information in tow, he leaves just so.