His Name Was Jesse
As I push on to the 5400 foot summit at Washington Pass the air is fresh, the wind strong and the vistas magnificent.
A lone bicyclist struggles as he winds his way up the unforgiving slope.
“I am Jesse”, he says. “I’ve been traveling 23 days, going to Bellingham to start a new life. I am determined not to be homeless”. I try to impart a life time of experience to a young man seeking destiny along a lonely road. I know something about that too.
As the dreary afternoon wears on I get in my support vehicle and drive to deli 15 miles east. There I buy hot soup. I return to the mountain crest and give it to Jesse. I feel good and he is warm.
His Name Was Jesse