I moved my blankets and towels into a old abandoned schoolhouse late yesterday afternoon. I was hoping to find some other transients huddled up there, but after sitting up for most the night over a low flame no one else came to join me. Everyone else is smarter than I, several hundred miles south or west!
Unfortunately there were no usable items left on the first floor of the school house. The area it is in was flooded fairly heavily in 2008 and there is still a dank, musky smell to the wood. It gets especially bad when I have a fire, the rotting beams started smelling like wet dog when my flames were built up. Still, it keeps me out of the wind, and hopefully I'll find some other leftover transients around town before long and we can band together somewhere else.
For tonight, though, it looks like I will be singing the old hobo Christmas tunes solo. The road of a transient can be accompanied by others, but is very often traversed alone.
Brightest & Best
Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine aid;
Star of the East, the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.
Cold on His cradle the dewdrops are shining;
Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;
Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,
Maker and Monarch and Savior of all!
Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
Odors of Edom
Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine?
Vainly we offer each ample oblation,
Vainly with gifts would His favor secure;
Richer by far is the heart’s adoration,
Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.
Happy Christmas to you all.
In solidarity,
Train Tom
