The Fate of Shangri La

It is already the last day of September. How quickly this month has passed!

When I left for work around noon today, it was drizzling rain, just a very little, like a fine mist, and I didn't even have to open my umbrella.

I was munching a Gala apple (reported to be a great antioxidant) as I walked and breathing in the cool air. I have tried to re-introduce as many fresh vegetables and fruits as I can into my diet, after having lost the taste for them over the last few years of too many fast food meals.

I had talked to my daughter Chaya earlier and she was feeling the effects of yesterday’s chemo treatment (her 2nd to last) and so I breathed a few silent prayers in her direction as I walked.

I looked forward to walking into the office, as weekends are casual dress and the mood is also more casual, and I usually spent the first hour laughing, gossiping and joking with everyone (when they are not on the phones), which is a great mood booster and sets me up for a great shift.

The day went quickly, the pace was fairly steady and at 9:30 p.m. I left the office for the day, and began my walk home.

They are building a huge high rise called Shangri La next to the building I work in, and it is supposed to become one of the tallest structures in the city, combining condos, hotel facilities and luxurious never-before-seen amenities for those who can afford them.

The construction site zone however, has become a haven for squeegee kids struggling to survive and also the covered walkway along the Georgia corridor is the bedroom of a young man who sleeps there every night.

I pass him on my walk home and he has been there most recent nights.

He has laid out a cardboard box for his mattress, one of those waterproofed kinds that are used by fruit and vegetable wholesalers, and it is usually lying there in wait for him on my way into work.

When I left work tonight and passed him, he was rolled up in his blue sleeping bag and sleeping, but most nights he has a book open and is reading.

It is extraordinary to see him there completely relaxed, as though he is lounging in his apartment, and deep into a book. He never has a paper cup or hat out for spare change, but is simply there.

The fall chill has started to hit the streets, and it is far from cozy on a cold cement sidewalk but he doesn’t look up from his book as I pass, and I sense that the world of the book has taken him from the world of the street, completely and utterly. He is never stoned or drunk but always reading, as far as I can see.

Behind the wooden barrier erected by the constuction crew, the future of this city block lies dormant, waiting to be summoned into existence by sorcerers in hardhats, armed with hammers and calculators.

But in my mind, this sleeping youth is the sage who will ultimately decide the fate of Shangri La.

Such things are possible!