Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

These boots were made for walkin’

THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR WALKIN’
Okay, they’re not actually boots, they’re walking shoes, but that doesn’t lend itself to a catchy title. The point is, the weather is FINALLY nice here in Denver, and I’ve been dying to take my new running shoes out for a stroll. Karma gave them to me, after I realized I might be falling prey to the middle-aged syndrome of fallen arches. There’s a fancier name for it, and several women I know have it, but I have thus far been spared the pain in my feet. Until recently. I have always had one small spot on the heel of my left foot that gets sore after a lot of walking, but not enough that I’ve had to pay attention to the kind of shoes I wear. Not so much anymore. My new shoes are pink and purple, and have very good arch support.

I have been hoarding sample sized toiletries from everyone I know to take down to the homeless shelter. A couple of estate sale guys who donate to the center regularly caught wind of my connection with the homeless, and brought me three large bags of such toiletries, including razors, shampoo, conditioner, toothbrushes and toothpaste. St. Francis Shelter downtown runs a day center, including a shower room, and is always in desperate need of such items. I’ve been storing them in my nifty little faux-burberry rolling bag, and today I actually drug it downstairs, out the door, and the 1.5 miles to the shelter.
I stopped at the VOICE office to drop off a bag of goodies I had gathered for them as well, including neck lanyards and some toiletries. Dragging my fancy little bag through the heart of the homeless was a bit comical, especially as I passed one couple who were balancing two large plastic bags full of belongings on their shoulders. I wanted to shout at them not to judge me, I was taking my pretty little bag full of goodies to St. Francis. But I did not, they didn’t seem to really be judging me anyway.
After depositing my goods at the shelter, I headed to the mall and caught the shuttle bus to Market Street Station, near the bottom of the mall. I walked back up to the top, stopping at all the food kiosks scattered along the mall. I’m writing a blog post for denver.com about street vendors, and was in search of the booth that served breakfast sandwiches on donuts. As in, sausage and eggs on a glazed donut. Disappointed I couldn’t find it, (apparently it’s too early in the season) I settled for a breakfast burrito from the gentleman dragging a red cooler down 15th street. It was spicy, delicious, and only $1.50, and it fueled the rest of my journey up the mall.
St. Paul’s cathedral is directly in the path I take to get home, and around 10 o’clock each morning people begin lining up at the front doors for the free lunch that is offered daily. Men line the sidewalk, some sitting on the stone wall, others lounging on the grass between the sidewalk and the street, and still others lean against their modified bicycles. Almost anything can be used to modify the bicycles, including wagons, wheels of any sort, and boards. Boards are nailed together and wheels attached to them, then boxes and bungie cords strapped to the boards to make room for storage of their items. Today there was a bike that had so much attached to it, the stuff was actually twice as long as the bike, and finding the original frame of the bike was difficult. The men all seemed in a good mood like the good weather, and as I walked through the gauntlet of homeless gentlemen, I got plenty of “how you doin’?”, “Hello pretty lady,” and “good morning baby girl’s.” They may be homeless, but they know how to compliment a lady.

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May 6, 2013 - Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , ,

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