Latter Day Sinner

When I was in my twenties I lived in an apartment on Dodge Street. It was in a single dwelling house that had been cut into three pieces. I was desperately poor by American standards but I had everything I actually needed. I sometimes refer to it as “living on the edge of society in the center of town.” The house is gone now. There’s a parking lot for a law building there now. But I will try to reconstruct it for you.

I refer to Dodge Street as a standard because I still truly believe I lived in a way that’s kings couldn’t have even imagined 200 years before that. I had a job, access to emergency medical care, a working refrigerator, a working stove, indoor plumbing, a furnace for the cold winters, a couch, a bed, sufficient food, clothing, and shelter, and electronic entertainment. I was very free but also very low spiritually. Friends came to party with me. Family came to make sure I hadn’t died. I occasionally entertained various missionaries who wanted me to be less free but more sanctified. I only remember two encounters with the police and neither was because of anything which I was directly involved. I occasionally had a roommate, but the place was really only big enough for one person to live comfortably.

I have fond memories of that time in my life. I didn’t have many responsibilities beyond self care. I dabbled in poetry and art and I must admit a little black magic. I didn’t have anything worth stealing but never felt the need to steal from anyone else. Technically I stole a few hearts while I was there, but I have always been in a position where more people love me than I can conceivably love equally in return. It was a relatively quiet life. Again I was free but I didn’t add much value to the world. As much as I would like to go back sometimes, I know I have to do more than just exist. But for those who only want to exist and nothing more, I wish for them at least that quality of life. I want everyone in the world to have at least that minimum. The Dodge Street Standard.