Vagabonds

There is this bench across from where I lock up my pony. It appeared one day. The staff said it was management’s idea to put it there so they could take breaks, but I think it was to get it out of the way from somewhere else that was bothering customers. The bench is in an out-of-the-way space under the window to the internal seating area and gets good sunshine.

The bench has also become a gathering spot for vagabonds.

From what I understand a vagabond is a person who wanders from place-to-place without a home or a job. Some may call them bums or hobos or homeless and avoid them at all cost. I call them adventurers.

These street people are living off their wits and experience to survive. For whatever reason they are in this particular situation, they wander among the rest of us like shadows.

Mental deficiencies or physical disabilities, economic catastrophes or just down on their luck, vagabonds don’t use calendars for no one knows what tomorrow will bring. Some turn to begging or prostitution. Some turn to drugs or violence and the state gives them room and board for a couple of days. Some are societies caste off and some just want to be alone.

On some days I’ll notice one or two folks with backpacks and rolled up blankets soaking up the sun and get a brief respite from their constant journey. Sometimes they just smile and sometimes they say “Hello” because they probably think I’m a vagabond too in my shabby garb. Sometimes they ask for money or a beer to which I politely turn down their request. If they are persistent I point to a sign in the parking lot that says: “No Soliciting under penalty of law”.  If they continue harassing passer-bys, I report them to management and let them handle the situation. Sometimes they will stop and have a conversation. I don’t have any idea of their back-story or if what they are saying is true or false, but many times it is worth a listen.

I have touched the fringe of the vagabond tribe several times and have been mistaken for one but luckily I’ve always had money in my pocket and a roof over my head. I personally have no wander but I know some who have ants-in-their-pants and can’t sit in one place very long.

Now and then I will take a hike in the city. Go somewhere I’m not used to with no telling what is around the corner. Wonder where that street goes? Walk down there and find out. Again, I am lucky to have come out on the other side.

I’ve never felt threatened by these folks. If one seems a little too bizarre I keep my distance.

I do feel for these explorers into the unknown and wonder why we don’t treat them like Lewis and Clarke or Columbus? They have seen and heard and experienced things the rest of us read in fiction novels, but it is really fact. Everyday they carry all their worldly belongings looking for a place to rest, something to eat, and in good times available indoor plumbing. These immigrants looking for a place to raise a family, make an honest living, and believe in their faith. These refugees from society told constantly to move on, not wanted here and so they wander.

I have a bench in my front yard next to the gate. If someone is walking down the sidewalk and gets tired, there is a place to rest and rejuvenate. It is just a place to stop and reflect in the shade before continuing. It is not used very often but it is available. My backyard is full of rest stops. To appreciate your environment one must stop and take in their surroundings. As we get older our body tells us to rest more often so it is good to have a place to stop.

Today I didn’t see any vagabonds catching their rays but had a wonderful conversation with a lady who is enjoying life and that was refreshment enough. I told her I appreciated her spirit and wandered on.