Originally published in the Deseret News.
While driving in downtown Salt Lake City this week I witnessed a vivid contrast. It was lunchtime and the city I love was teeming with life. A TRAX light-rail train rambled through traffic, a guy in a suit pedaled along on a lime green bike-share bicycle, construction workers labored in a new high rise, and lunch-hour pedestrian traffic filled the streets. As if to put punctuation on our growing and thriving urban center, I saw 20 or so rather large guys dressed in power-blue-and-maize outfits walking up State Street together. They were members of the Michigan football team taking a stroll before the big game against the University of Utah. From this vantage point, Utah’s capital city was unmistakably on the rise. I felt a certain sense of hometown pride.
And then a different vantage point emerged. While at a traffic light, I watched as a man started waking diagonally through the busy intersection of State Street and 100 South. He appeared dirty and completely lost. He was bare-chested, talking to himself, and looked completely oblivious to the cars around him. The situation was as sad as it was dangerous. This man needed help.