Sleeping On The Tracks

I once spent some time drinking and discussing current events with a one-legged homeless man. He noted that it was raining. I agreed, pointing out the fact it had been a dry summer.

Eventually, the conversation turned to talk of missing limbs. I didn't want to be rude, but I had to know.

"Are you a vet?"

"Yeah, man. One tour. '70.Don't enlist". (At the time , I was young enough for this to be an option)

"So is that what happened...you know," I motioned toward his above-the-knee stump. I had a horrible vision of an 18-year old version of this broken man, face down in a rice paddy, blown to pieces for a war no one will ever be able to justify.


"Nah. I was camped out down by the river a few years ago and passed out on the tracks. Fucking train hit me. VA fixed my hip and gave me these crutches. Supposed to get one of them fake legs soon".

Oh.

A few years later I'm conducting Census interviews in a local halfway house .I see the same guy. He's in a wheelchair and his other leg is missing. He recognizes me.

"Hey man".

"Hey. So...what happened? Not the tr..."

"Yeah man. Fucking train got the other one. Supposed to get one of them battery power chairs soon".

Oh.

Now, years later, I realize this drunken amputee was a prescient bellwether for the American public.

No joy in that thought.