We see them every day along Santa Monica Boulevard, the final miles of America’s Route 66 that end at the Pacific Ocean. Many are on their way to beaches, downtown Los Angeles or just quiet alleys or lawns to spend restful nights.
Friendless, jobless, aimless. When we recognize their ragged clothing and meager posessions, do we ever pause to wonder what the wanderers once were? Happy children, eager students, proud soldiers, loving parents, ambitious workers? We realize then that each in our own way, we are all wanderers. And we pray to ourselves, there but for the grace of God go I.