By the Dawn's Early Light

Washington Heights.

It's 9 a.m.

I've been to the YMCA, played some basketball, sweat out yesterday's beef jerky in the sauna, showered, and now sit here, at the park, enjoying the myriad song of morning bird while watching steamy tendrils pour out of a cooling pot of red lentils and quinoa.

It's a heap of fun being a hobo; and an even bigger heap of fun being a hobo of the 21^st century. Gone are the old and backward days of stick and sack, of jaw-harped ballads, of pan-handling even. Here now are the heady times of EEElectricity, free inter-webs, and pre-paid cellulose phones!

So here I sit with my laptop plugged in to one of the handy pavilion outlets, allowing me to charge my battery while I type this and enjoy my breakfast in my “room with a view”.

photo by Allie's.Dad

Maybe I'll charge the pre-paid cell phone while I'm at it. Did I mention I have a cell phone?

I bet you're thinking I'm a pretty crafty hobo. Well, stranger, pretty ain't the word.
It's my 11^th day as a hobo. And I'm as prickly-faced as a porcupine. But I couldn't feel any better.

And who wouldn't, with such a commanding view of the entire river valley over a piping hot breakfast? Almost makes a hobo want to break out the guitar and belt out Woody Guthrie's celebrated “This Land Is Your Land”. If only I could remember more than the refrain...

Hmmm. Then again, it almost makes a hobo of the 21^st century want to break out his mp3 player and cue up an old Leadbelly tune or two. Or better yet, the gypsy jazz of Django Reinhardt.

MMMmmm....curried red lentils and quinoa. Don't mind if I do...

Did I mention the steamy tendrils wafting curry and cumin past my nose?

Living life on one's own terms; I believe they call this “freedom”.

Socio-political elaboration on the use, misuse, and abuse of the word “freedom” begins here....excised here...

There is a saying from somewhere (probably the Bible or some other book I should have read)--a saying which says 'only when you give up everything can you gain everything'. It is a statement which scarcely makes sense today; a statement which will be completely unintelligible tomorrow, when we are thoroughly fettered (even we hobos) to our things.

And remember that song that went “...Freedom is just another word for 'nothing left to lose'...”

For now, the hobo-poet still commands the heights. No doubt tomorrow will bring new trappings.