Something More

Wednesdays there's free produce on 13th St. People come in to our building to use the bathroom. A couple weeks ago a lady came in. She was gone a long time, and when I went to check she was taking a bath at the sink. I imagine she doesn't have a better place to do that. You know that dream you have about needing to use the bathroom and all the doors are missing?
This morning a gentleman came in; gone a long time. I heard yelling. When I went to investigate, it was a baby crying. Mom and baby were waiting outside. Pretty soon she comes in to use the bathroom, and he watches the baby.
I feel a profound sadness. I wish there was something more we could do for people in need, besides letting them use the bathroom. (That is more than a lot of places would offer.) I ended up holding the door when they left.
Some people think they brought it upon themselves. I think differently. There are a few who live irresponsibly, but the majority of people who need to wait in line to pick up their vegetables on the street don't have a lot of other options. It wouldn't be their choice to live that way. The combinations of forces that got them to that place are not overcome in a day or two, with a little soap and water and paper towels. The mom from this morning's encounter is blind.
Sometimes I give away my all-day pass for the bus, if somebody needs it.
My dad as a young man (I was a baby) came home from work one day and told my mother he thought they needed to do something more. They spent the next thirty years in overseas mission building schools in a developing nation.
I heard my daughter say she wants to do something more. She was talking about her job.
What did you end up doing last time you felt like you should be doing something more?

Style

The goth girl at the supermarket check-out complemented my skirt and my bag. Last time I wore that skirt, a white-haired lady in a quilted vest came up to me on the street and asked about it. Said she loved it. One time last year a jeans-and-sweatshirt mom at the gas station noticed it and asked how it was made. I bought it at "Handy Ups and Downs" about ten years ago.
I like to shop at Goodwill and consignment shops. A lot of my clothes also come from street markets in Pattaya and Bangkok, Delhi and Anjuna, Tibetan markets in the Himalayas and the US, Otavalo and Amazonas, Schwartzwald, the New Castle weekend market.When I was growing up, like many other overseas workers we got the Sears catalog by boat, and my grandparents would order something vaguely fashionable. I still remember the purple jeans I wore in sixth grade. Or we got the tailor to copy the picture in my size.
Basically, I dress hippie. As my sense of self has developed over the years, so has my sense of style, and my confidence to wear something that doesn't necessarily fit current "fashion trends" or acceptable "professional attire" but makes me feel good. So I end up with an outfit that pleases both a goth teenager and a crafty grandmother. I have developed many significant conversations in the check out line at Joann Fabrics.
I don't enjoy shopping at Kohl's, with racks and racks of the same fashion statement in different sizes. How are you supposed to develop your self ?