Precarious Lives

I just walked through an exhibit at the Loveland Museum/Gallery. Actually, two exhibits very much related to each other: “Hobos to Street People” and “Dorothea Lange – Precarious Lives”. Both deal with homelessness and poverty and desperation. 


 These are human conditions – like the lives of immigrants – that I have long been able to ignore -- to remain only vaguely aware of people struggling on the periphery of my middle class comfort. 


 But once you are aware – once you see what has heretofore been invisible – you really cannot just go on your merry way. 


 Obliviousness is not allowed. 


 There is, I believe, a minimal portion of human dignity that all people should enjoy. 


 All people. 


 I’m not at all sure what I am going to do about what I saw (and now can see). 


 More than one blog. 


 More than one act of compassion. 


 More than one personal encounter. 


 At minimum. 


 I have no idea why I have escaped the plight that so many suffer. But all of these people – the homeless, the immigrants, the unemployed – are part of the same fabric of life in which I have my being. 


 We are, in fact, part of one another. 


 Whatever we can do, we must.