Today I had one of those reality moments that shake you like lighting striking just merely feet away from you, the intensity only to be reinforced by the crackling sound of thunder that follows, the decibels almost bursting your eardrums. The unforgiving dark plague of poverty that infects society, and scampers around like a cockroach hard to exterminate, was the force that shook me from my daily routine. It snapped me out of my comfortable bliss, that I too often take for granted.

Walking past a building in the city of White Plains, NY today I heard a voice calling from a distance, the figure looked like a wounded animal snared in a hunter’s trap all alone in the wilderness, all alone in a concrete jungle left to his own self-torment and vices. I looked and saw a figure, a shell of a human being that I once knew more than a decade ago. The person I remember was not who this person was standing before me. This man was an impostor to my memory.

Upon further examination I saw that his eyes were no longer his own. Now they reflected an empty bottomless soul that was torn and battered. He then called out to me and conveyed a customary greeting. I had to look closely at this man, past the wear and tear that hardship had afflicted on his body. I had to look past the face that now appeared desolate and defiled by something, possibly illegal drug abuse, who really knows? I had to look past the mustache which was overgrown, ungroomed, and out of place on his lip. He now looked frail and thin. He had a different aura, a look not like the people moving all around him, hustling in the daily rat race.

I was taken aback, when I realized it was someone I knew from my adolescence. He was someone from my old neighborhood. We all hung out together on our block, he was one of the neighborhood kids like myself. We were young city kids growing up in the Wakefield section of the Bronx. He is younger than I, yet he looked so much older now. He looked older than someone of any age should have to appear.

I said “Hey it’s Brian right?” he then acknowledged me. Since I’ve moved out of the old neighborhood I would run into Brian in Westchester County once in a while, since he had moved into Yonkers himself. Brian was always a little hyper and some would say a little off. But he seemed to be doing alright all these years. The last time I saw him two years ago, he spoke of God and the church he was attending. Now as I looked at him I did not know what to say, I don’t know what had happened to him.

He asked me what I had been up to all these years. I said I was aiming to go back to college which I am, though I fight against high tuition costs and shrinking financial assistance. I sometimes wonder if I can fulfill my goals of getting a degree. Brian listened and said “oh, that’s good I’m trying to get into this homeless shelter”. We were after all standing across from the Westchester County, Martine Ave office building. Which is where you see about these sort of things. All I could say with shock, concern, and sorrow was “oh”. I could see the pain, suffering, and embarrassment in his eyes now. He then walked away and said he would see me around. I said it was good to see him. I thought to myslef I just wish I did not have had to see him like this.

Poverty is ugly, it is the ugliest thing I ever come into contact with. From my days as a teen in NYC and now all the way up here in Westchester County, NY. It won’t go away, and it continues to hurt everyone. We have homeless people dropped of at the shelters in White Plains, NY. They are the forgotten people in our society. They are only paid attention to when we let them roam free unsupervised. And then something horrible happens and it’s too late.

What has happened to our county, state, and country? We have lost focus on the issues that really matter the most. We don’t put emphasis on the domestic issues any longer. People are really hurting out there. Employment, housing, education, crime, and healthcare are all things we have allowed our governments to put on the back burner. We talk about securing the homeland, but what kind of homeland will this be if we allow these injustices to go on?

There are not many politicians out there who are addressing these problems. It took a hurricane to actually bring the discussion to the forefront somewhat. But, what will be done about it? Taking on these issues is what being a progressive is all about. And I’m waiting to see a politician come back and bring up the “Two Americas” again. Because things are getting worse, and people are just not realizing it. They are fooled into focusing on other things like TV shows named desperate housewives! I don’t know any of those women, but I now know two desperate homeless people, and that’s more than I should ever have to know.