Last Saturday I was in Boston with some of my students for the weekend as they encountered homelessness for the fist time. Last Saturday I did a lot of things with homeless folks...and a lot of things with my students.
Last Saturday I pushed a cart around with books at a healthcare facility for homeless folks so that they would have reading material. I talked about classic books, mysteries, romance, poetry...I even picked out a few based on my own reading.
This Saturday I went to my local library in my comfortable suburb of Hartford where a bunch of wealthy / middle class white people waited in line for the fall booksale. They bought boxes of books. And as one lady in a lime green shirt pushed me to get to the non-fiction end of the room I wondered to myself "where in this irony is the disconnect"?
I bought a book about the church in Latin America but I probably won't read it for a long time because it will make me nostalgic and sad.
I miss Latin America like I miss all the moments where the little fragments of life connect...these days they seem so few and far between.