Two slices of pizza, a hot dog

This is what I'm thankful for:

There has been a new homeless person, a woman, wrapped in layers of plastic and often seen leaning up against news boxes belonging to the new daily free newspaper in town.

Portland does not have a large, visible population of homeless people.

At least, not so you can see.

There are the usual suspects, mostly men called the “Park Street Social Club” by a local television station. I’ve seen them over the years, getting a little more shaky, a little grayer, dirtier - and then noted their absence. It’s a rotation of need and despair that you sometimes see - and sometimes gloss over too easily.

But women, for physical and social reasons, are rare.

So she has appeared on Congress Street. She’s part of the scene now, someone easy to see, easy to notice and therefore easy to ignore.

An extra slice of pizza fell into my hands the other night. Otto Pizza, a new addition to the line of small eateries on Congress Street, was closing when I dropped by on my way home from the Old Port. They are a simple business, selling good pizza at reasonable prices, staying open at convenient hours for those of us out and about.

I’ve gotten to know the owner - he has a MacBook Pro, 17” and doesn’t know how to use it. I can’t give him lessons (well, maybe if he paid me in pizza. Maybe.) but I did set him up with resources at the store he could use.

So coming in just as they closed got me a second, free piece of pizza - hot off the oven, crispy and well-made.

And there she was, sitting just across the street, in a maddeningly convenient place on my path back home.

So, the second piece just went to her. I had no use for a piece of pizza that came into my hands by accident.

Same thing for a hot dog. I’ve posted pictures of the Monument Square hot dog stand and it’s affable owner, John. He’s friendly and supportive on sunny days, making basic, quality dogs.

He’s even a more welcome sight on gray days like today.

So last week I broke my own rules and bought a second hot dog - with mustard, ketchup and kraut.

Again, it wasn’t the distance of a dozen steps before I saw her again. Suddenly the second hot dog seemed to weigh a ton, it was covered in sugar and yellow cheese, it was frosted and pointless ...

... until it left my hand - suddenly it was the most lovely hot dog in the world.

I suppose I’m being unfair and clueless, as usual. It’s only a hot dog and a piece of pizza and there isn’t a great deal I can do about a homeless person, at least not right now.

But, right at this moment I’m grateful that I can afford a second hot dog, that a second slice of pizza came into my hands and that I really didn’t think about the impulse to give it away until right this minute, sitting here at Mousse, writing, looking at what is the last Farmer’s Market of the official season.

The day before Thanksgiving.

I’m the luckiest man in the world. We, all of us, all over the world, can be the luckiest, most thankful people in the world.

Once we see what is obvious - and then act.