Tag: Banks of the Wabash

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HOMELESS MAN COOKS SPAGHETTI IN PARK

One of my favorite pastimes during this pandemic is walking in the park along the Wabash River.  It’s not a stylish spot like our other parks.  You don’t see fancy running gear,  people walking pedigreed dogs, or upscale  vans.  You’re more apt to see folks  in  parked trucks and old model sedans.  I suppose that’s because it’s not in a very good neighborhood. Nevertheless, the joy of seeing the bend in the river, and sunlight over the water, is an exhilarating experience.  Yesterday,  I observed another person enjoying the riverfront :  A homeless man cooking spaghetti in the park. 

Homeless man cooks spaghetti along the banks of the Wabash River
Homeless Man Cooks Spaghetti in Park. A folding stove provided him with boiling water.

At first, I saw a folding stove, with a pan above the flames.  This held my attention, because I recently purchased a similar stove after going through the last power outage.  Although it was warm weather, and we weren’t feeling cold, we desperately needed a cup of coffee.  Luckily, our son found a McDonalds that was serving coffee, so we made it through the next 18 hours.  The following day,, I found a survival stove and cubes of fuel  at Rural King , which can be used indoors.  No matter what, we will have our coffee, even if it’s just instant.

The homeless man impressed me when he opened a box of spaghetti and broke some into the pot of boiling water.  He was  having  a homecooked meal right next to the river.  No canned spaghetti for him!

He appeared to be middle aged, and wore a clean  jacket and pants.  He had a beard, but it wasn’t overly long.  I thought about him as I walked by his encampment, consisting of nothing more than a backpack and a few scattered items..  Out of curiosity, I turned around for another look.  And then, I saw that he was walking a short distance behind me.

Immediately, my friendly interest turned to fear.  There was no one around.  Was I about to get mugged? I had nothing but my cellphone, since I’d left my purse in the car.  I quickened my pace and sprinted to the playground, joining a mother and her two children.  Now I felt safe.  Looking back toward the sidewalk, I saw that he was still walking..  Obviously, he hadn’t been following me at all. He was merely talking a walk while the pasta  bubbled  over his folding stove.  As if on cue, he turned around and returned to the stove.

At that moment, I realized how deeply ingrained our biases are when we see a homeless person. We assume that they’re bad people.  And I’m sure some of them are.  But realistically speaking, how dangerous could a person be who’s cooking spaghetti on the banks of the Wabash River?

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FINDING SOLACE NEAR THE RIVER

When something stressful invades my life, I always find myself returning to the solace of  the river.  Living inland, I can’t enjoy the comfort of deep blue water or the sound of crashing ocean waves.  But there are peaceful lakes and rivers all over the world, and they are there for you in times of despair.  

In times of anxiety, find the solace of water by returning to the river
DURING TIMES OF ANXIETY, FIND SOLACE BY RETURNING TO THE RIVER.

My river—the Wabash—isn’t blue like the ocean unless the sun is very bright and the sky is cloudless.  It’s often a cool, pale green.  While watching the gentle,  rippling waves moving up toward  the bend in the river,  I  begin to relax . The Wabash is here for me now, and tomorrow.  It’s steady, predictable and comforting.  And even if I’m not stressed out, it gives me a feeling of calm and clarity that heightens my satisfaction with life in general.

The river front in my city isn’t a particularly popular destination.   A cluster of subsidized senior housing units nearby doesn’t add much glamour.. Consequently,  it isn’t a ritzy, fashionable spot. But the city maintains parks where children can play, and shelters where folks can picnic.

The banks of the Wabash are  lined with towering trees and leafy bushes.  Geese wander in the grass, guarding their fluffy yellow goslings.  Around noontime , you will see  many parked cars with solitary drivers, reading books or cheering themselves up from whatever might be wrong in their lives.  Strangers may nod, but they keep to themselves.    

There’s a movement in the town to do something like the river walk in San Antonio, Texas,  I’m hoping that doesn’t come to pass in my lifetime.  Right now, I like driving past the small childhood home of musician Paul Dresser who wrote, “On the Banks of the Wabash,”   He lived there with  his brother,  Theodore  Dreiser , author of  the scandalous novel , “Sister Carrie.” Then, there’s  that moment of joy when I see the sunlight shining across the water.  And I’m glad I found solace by turning to the river.