sidewalk mary/or: the american dream

humbly, i am teaching my children that sidewalk mary is a person
with a whole life, a whole story, and the story is important,
and because she is sitting on the sidewalk every day in
sticky heat or dripping sky,  car exhaust and
dust

doesn't mean she is insane.  it means she is dusty. 
hot.  sticky.
that she has a moustache does not mean
she is insane.  or unclean.  or a man.
that she is surrounded
by teddy bears and is always
rocking one on her shoulder, patting and

rocking to    rocking fro
rocking to    rocking fro

means she is rocking her bear, and maybe she loves it.  she was a child once
just like they are and they love their stuffed bears too, right? 
who can't sleep without doggie?  maybe she has no one else to love.  we
talk.  we explore. 

and maybe we could take her
a root beer, on a hot day
or a cocoa, on a cold day
and take her a new teddy. 

let her know we see her.  that she is. 

at first they think i am maybe making valid points but still
--cynics the bunch of them--
who but the insane wear a moustache when they are a woman,
or sit on the sidewalk every day? 

but my children are learning compassion, and relativism. 
that we all do not live the same way.  they have come to think this
teddy and drink idea is a good one.  they wonder where sidewalk mary is
when we drive by and the corner is unoccupied.
what about taking a few of the cookies grandma sent us?  let's sit with her, they
say.  tomorrow, i say.  i'm happy they have good will.  they are generous with
their love. 

but i am afraid that when we sit by her, she will pull a knife on us.
this is the part i do not tell my children.