I'm pretty gullible.  While visiting a friend in Europe several years ago I was amazed to have Ben and Jerry's ice cream for dessert at our host's home.  He told me he had a friend in the embassy and had asked said friend to bring it (packed in dry ice) in the Diplomatic Pouch.  I gushed over his thoughtfulness.  My husband stood quietly by.  So when I saw the rows and rows of Ben and Jerry's on display in Tesco's when we went grocery shopping I felt like seven kinds of an idiot.

When I read on the internet that people, while sleeping, swallow an average of 10 spiders in the course of a lifetime I was horrified.  I didn't want to close my eyes ever again.  And then Himself said, "Think about this.  How did they do the research to come up with this?  Did scientists  stand in the corner of darkened bedrooms while people slept? And if they did, how did they see the spiders if it was dark?"  I felt better.  But I still felt like an idiot. 

I don't lie.  What you see is what you get.  In the early days of parenthood there were a few arguments.  I really had a problem with Santa, the Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and that crowd.  I was afraid my kids wouldn't trust me when they found out.  Himself thought my trolley had slipped its tracks.  So when people lie to me I am generally caught off guard.  Needless to say, I am having a very difficult time with the current Presidential candidates.  Who ARE these people???

There are a couple for whom I think I could vote.  There are some who really should be sedated until this whole thing is over.  And then there are the rabid fans of the super wack-doodles who just out and out scare me.  I have friends whose intelligence I've always respected who are saying very strange things.  Maybe they're kidding. I hope they're kidding.  But hey, what do I know?  I thought ice cream came in the Diplomatic Pouch.

I love living in a country where anyone can run for President.  Well, if he or she can afford it.  And is over 35.  And was born here.  We don't go to war over who will lead us.  That's a very big deal and an improvement over many countries in the world.  I've lived through some pretty stinky presidencies and here we are.  We've survived.  Whoever gets in (and I WILL vote for someone) we will all survive.  Still, I sometimes sing "Oh, Canada" just to watch the veins stand out in the necks of my more conservative friends.  I said I don't lie.  I never said I didn't have a mean streak.

Not every day, but often, as I walk across the Fort Port Channel Bridge on my way to work I see Valerie.  She is a street person.  I'm not sure where she spends her nights, but she starts her mornings looking at the water.  When she spots me her arms are flung wide and, as she continues to recline on the bench, she reaches for a hug.  Sometimes I slip her the price of a cup of coffee, but I think it's the hug that she really looks forward to.  Street people don't get hugged much, it occurs to me.

I've never asked her story.  It's none of my business.  Some days she looks rougher than other days.  She may drink or drug.  I don't know.  I'm not in the lecturing business and it wouldn't change anything if I were.  I had a spare rain poncho left over from my son's graduation which seemed like a good idea.  Mostly she can't take much because where would she keep it?

I asked her name because I saw her pretty often.  I've also asked the name of the guy in South Station wearing the Burger King purple velvet robe who hands out the Metro newspaper.  He's Dorrell.  It's a thing I believe.  If you see someone every day, you should learn his or her name.  We all need to be known.  And sometimes hugged.  But Valerie shares my first name, which caught me by surprise.  It's not a very common name, although it's certainly not rare.  Knowing we shared a name made me think about her in a slightly different way.  Maybe it was the "there but for the grace of God go I" thing.  Maybe I wonder how anyone can live with so few material possessions. Sometimes I just look at the water and try to see what she sees.

And here we are, riding on the same Blue Marble, day chasing day, seasons meaning a lot more to her than to me.  She knows where to find air conditioning or heat, of course.  But she has to think about it in a totally different way from the way I do.  For her it's life and death.  The shortened hours of sunlight mean danger, along with cold.

Meanwhile I mumble about the Red Line and dread shoveling snow in front of my own home, and digging out our two cars.  Every once in a while it's good to send a thought and a prayer to the other Valerie.  It keeps my feet a little more grounded to have to stop and appreciate how very much I have.