To save gas, one warm, sunny day last week, I walked to the store. As I headed home, I realized my shopping bag was heavier than I wanted to carry unless I stopped to rest.
There were several outdoor tables and folks were enjoying the day. We were entertained by some lovely guitar music. At first my back was to the performer, and I decided that the beautiful music must be coming from a beautiful soul, so I turned around. Between songs, I asked the musician if we could talk for a few minutes. Although he didn’t have a hat on the ground to encourage donations, his appearance and humble manner made me want to share one of my few dollars with him.
At the beginning of the conversation I identified myself as a writer for Street Roots and asked if I could take his picture and write down a few of the things we might talk about. He was agreeable and started to play again. Evidently it was OK for me to take his picture, but he wasn’t going to put on a phony smile and pose for me. So as he played, I snapped a picture, got out paper and pencil and sat quietly listening until he finished his song.
His name is Steve. He’s a painter. “An everything painter — houses, murals, whatever.” He manages to get enough painting jobs to earn about $8,000 a year. It’s enough to rent an unheated, small apartment that has a kitchen, so he usually prepares his food at home. Groceries make the money go further than restaurant eating and so he manages without food stamps. He enjoys practicing his music outdoors when weather permits.
In an attempt to show that I was empathetic to low-income people, I said something about the “struggle it is to survive.” Steve was quick to correct me.
“I’m not struggling. In fact, I think I’m doing well. Actually I have a good life — a place to live, enough to eat, work, friends and good health. You gotta be grateful for what you get.”
We discussed poverty. I told him that I was very concerned about so much poverty in such a rich country. It bothers me that money for a war on terrorism results in so many cuts in health, welfare and education programs. Steve had a lot to say about poverty.
“It takes all kinds of forms. The end result of poverty is that as one grows older, it can become degrading both mentally and emotionally. After many years, one is like a broken gear cog that can be replaced. It just doesn’t fit anywhere, so it is discarded.”
It’s easy to like Steve. He has a positive attitude and speaks intelligently and sincerely. It’s apparent that he’s not burdened with drug or alcohol problems. He shared some of the good things in his life. He graduated from high school and had some training in mural painting. He’s close to 50 years old and has been painting murals more than 20 years. He did some of the work on various historical murals here in Portland, and named several states where he’s worked on other murals.
I asked him to play another song for me. Perhaps he had one he had written.
“Oh yeah, I write songs. Most of them are about global warming. I write poetry too — also mostly about global warming. I love nature and want to see it preserved instead of destroyed.”
The first few moments of his music had made me think this was a creative soul. As we visited, my first impression was confirmed. But he’s more than that. Steve is at peace with himself, yet still very much aware of the world around him. His poetry and songs reveal some anger. He’s a part of the unrest that is sweeping over this country. He’s watching and listening with those of us who want change. His songs and poetry can help educate those who are not yet aware.
It was time for me to stop asking questions and just sit back and enjoy the songs, the poetry and the beauty of Steve. Sometimes I get discouraged about the way things are in the world today. My visit with Steve was uplifting, and I hope he reads this so that he’ll know how much I appreciated getting acquainted with someone special. Maybe we’ll see some of his poetry in Street Roots, so you can become Steve’s friend also.