On my way to my

On my way to my local
entertainment superstore, I made a quick stop for chips. They are my
latest indulgence- my "I am alone and don't have to share" treat. I pulled over
to slather them in tomato vinegar sauce (aka ketchup). Nothing like fried
potatoes living in the neighborhood under an assumed name to get themselves into
good favor with me. As I drove and dipped, I listened to a fabulous piece on NPR
by Studio 360 about color and the use of it in film and art. Lisa Fittipaldi is
an artist who lost her vision 10 years ago. The depression from the loss of her
sight nearly drove her to suicide. Her husband bought her a set of child's
watercolors. The simple use of them spurred her on to more professional paints.
Her work made it into a gallery only to clear out her garage. I checked out her
web site; while her art is not to my personal taste, I have to respect her
ability as incredible. When I pulled into the parking lot, I was greeted by the
site of three police cars. I decided to sit, eating my chips and licking my
ketchup laddened fingers, to watch the happenings. It quickly became apparent
that they were trying to remove a homeless man and his dog. I couldn't stand not
hearing anything, so I slowly walked into the store. The guy had gotten out of
jail recently (three weeks ago according to the employees of the store who had
seen him there for that amount of time) and he has failed to get a job or secure
a residence in that time. One of the strip mall store owners had complained
about his appearance. Although nothing has been stolen and sales have been
consistent, they were "afraid" of what might happen. They were still
interrogating, I mean, interviewing him, when I walked out with my DVD's. While
packing his seabag, he reminded the men that he was "a human being." Some retort
was returned, but I didn't clearly hear it. I returned to the van and sat
watching the scene play out. He grabbed his canine companion's leash and walked
off into the night. I am sure that he will be just as able to secure a job and
housing after his little encounter as he was before he met up with his
protectors. As I drove along, I wondered what things I am unnecessarily afraid
of.