i go to the roughest neighborhoods in town as part of my job. which is one of the reasons i love my job. (if anybody ever offers me a job on fifth avenue with a corner office, i'll tell 'em to take a flying leap.)
i love the roughest parts of town. or, more precisely, i love the people in them. i can't always explain why. this morning, i could.
i drove by a duplex whose one half was boarded up and the other half should have been. the neighborhood was dirty, broken down, full of drug dealers, prostitutes and little boys whose mothers have disappointed and bewildered them by choosing a place like this to live.
one little boy, who looked to be about kindergarten age, stood outside the half of the double that should have been boarded up but wasn't and he waited for his school bus in the cold rain.
he should have been crying, but he wasn't. he was smiling. well, as much as you can smile with your mouth open wide, head tipped back, catching raindrops on your tongue.
i think this little boy is destined for great things.
