This morning, while preparing breakfast, I noticed an elderly woman sifting through the trash bin behind my neighbor’s house. She wore a broad rimmed hat; her shoulders were stooped, her back bent, and when she walked it was easy to see she could only move with great difficulty.

I was dressed in P.J.s, and by the time I had finished dressing and made it outside to see if she needed help she had moved on. But I have replayed the scene inside my head all day.

Sometimes, it is easy to forget why we blog; why we are so willing to suffer abuse at the hands of the uncaring and then stand up, dust ourselves off, and sit back down at the computer.

But it takes only one moment of seeing the real life manifestation of suffering and the cruel effects of injustice to realize the work we do is significant.

As a writer, the past few weeks have been difficult. Each word I’ve typed has taken considerable effort, and perhaps I wouldn’t even be writing this diary if JtC hadn’t intervened.

I spend what little money I have feeding homeless people; and in L.A. there are so many homeless it is impossible to overlook their suffering. I once watched Ruth Buzzi pull up to a curb in a Rolls Royce, get out of the car, and hand money to four or five young boys sitting on the corner. One reason I’ve always loved artists is deep down – despite their quirkiness and hedonism – many have good hearts, and when they defend the less fortunate, they know they make themselves vulnerable to the hate of millions of people who simply don’t like people who are different.

But too many Democrats at the Dkos are better at being offended than they are at countering hate; and too many look for excuses to attack other Democrats who present a threat to their personal agendas than they do at holding Democratic leaders accountable for their corruption.

Before witnessing the elderly woman culling tin cans and food from the trash bin this morning, I had decided to take a sabbatical from blogging…my heart just hasn’t been in the fight lately, and I can think of better ways to spend my final days…but after a day of reflection, and after witnessing her plight, I’ve decided to post this short piece. It’s not much, but putting one foot in front of the other, in an attempt to continue the good fight, is worth the effort if it helps the needy.