Homeless on a Country Road . . .

Today, on my way to a weekly doctor’s appointment, I passed a curious sight on the country road by the interstate. It looked like a homeless person. I could not see his face. It was hooded, and the whole apparition was draped in “stuff”–a ragged pink blanket, the black hoodie, layers of clothes and other things, all perched on a bicycle. The form wasn’t moving. In fact it looked like he was standing with the bicycle, peering out at farmland through binoculars. He was still there an hour later when I passed going in the opposite direction.

I’ve spent three decades in urban locations, so I’ve seen lots of homeless people–an old naked woman outside the New York City train station, dozens of folks sleeping in a box city in the tunnels under Philadelphia’s city hall, men on the street sleeping on steam vents and in subway corridors, and even women with babies panhandling by the doors of a local farmers market. But I’ve never seen a homeless person on a country road before.