the garbage man.

On the Red Line. Got on at Belmont, headed towards 95th. It's about 1 o'clock in the afternoon, so the seats are all taken. I stand in the aisle, across from a most interesting man. He wears a tattered jacket with old green pants and worn out shoes. He stands in the corner of the dividing panel and the wall, reading the comics in the Chicago Tribune. The strange thing about this fellow is his luggage. Along with his dirty old backpack, the man has two large garbage bags that I am sure are full of garbage. The smell of the car confirms it. So I wondered: Why would this man be taking his trash on the train?

This man was successful. This man had a home. This man had a family. This man was making more money than he knew what to do with. This man made a bad decision. This man lost everything. This man was forced to the street. This man was transformed from a loving father and husband to an eccentric bum that people stare down at as he walks by. This man is forced to carry around the unpleasant garbage bags full of his past. This man can do nothing else but read the paper and try to get to his final destination, wherever that may be.