Picture, if you will, a man sitting, sometimes standing under a tree next to a cart. Long beard, expanded stomach, covered in the filth of the month and the clothes he wore yesterday. The cart filled with garbage that he deemed important. He stands there day and night, with no home to go to other than the tree, which provides him coverage from rain. Sometimes he can be seen smoking, sometimes he’s drinking a beer, and he always looks like he doesn’t want anything to do with you, until you say “hi.” His name was Don. He was the homeless man outside my apartment. We always had pleasant conversations about life and music; he was my friend. Until one day, when I started to notice that his health was declining. My fear suddenly became that he would die in front of my apartment. I wanted to get him into some kind of recovery center or a hospital: anything that would provide him the medical attention he so clearly needed, but despite my efforts no help ever came. Then one day, I came home and he was gone. I found out later an ambulance had picked him up and he was never seen again. Upon reading “Thom Pain” I was reminded of Don. For me, “Thom Pain” challenges us to consider what would happen if we, as humanity, in particular, as a country, all cared about each other a little bit more. Would anything change? Would we fight harder for everyone to have equal health care? Equal rights? Would we strive to ensure every child had a safe and healthy upbringing? That every citizen, at the very least had a bed to sleep in and food to eat? I don’t know, but much like Thom Pain’s weeping women in the morgue, it would be a start.