Mumbling strangers in our midst

I've spent enough time living and working in relatively large cities to have developed a sixth sense for trouble. I can feel it more than I can see it, often from blocks away, which gives me more than enough time to find another way to get where I need to go. I'm heartless that way, and it disturbs me to no end.

And so it was today, as I walked back to my car at the end of the workday. I spotted him when he was barely a speck. It didn't take long to realize he wasn't all there, as he shuffled oddly from one leg to another, and carried an empty 1.5-litre plastic pop bottle in his right hand. His salt-and-pepper hair was curly, wild and long, backdropped by an equally salt-and-pepper overgrowth of beard. He spoke to himself, then in my direction as he realized our paths were about to cross.

I couldn't make out anything he was saying. I got the sense that merely hearing his own voice was enough to keep him moving down the street.

As he walked toward me, he looked straight at me and for a blink, seemed like he was going to approach me directly. I adjusted my path to stay on the other side of the street. Part of me was thankful the brutal cold of the past few days and nights had eased, so at least he could mumble and wander in relative comfort. The other part of me felt guilty that I had avoided him at all. I had followed my own instincts to avoid potential trouble with a troubled stranger, and in doing so I wondered if my avoidance, slight as it was, had even registered in his mind. I figured he was used to it, but it still gnawed at me as I got into my car, locked the door and headed for home.

Before long, I found myself walking into a house whose front door was crowded with a barking, wiggly dog, huggy kids and a really beautiful wife. I realize the unfairness of a world where some live in warm homes with happy families while others wander the streets, confused and alone. I get that mental illness claims more of us than we dare admit.

I don't have any magical answers to the random cruelties of our planet. I just wish I had a response more elegant than pure avoidance.

Your turn: Thoughts?

[For more thoughts and perspectives on strangers, please click over to this week's Thematic.]