I’ve haunted a local Caribou Coffee since returning to Michigan. What do you expect? Fancy coffees, in the great scheme of things, are cheap indulgences. Plus, with free wi-fi, it keeps me off the streets for a while.

Which brings me to today’s subject: the streets. I often don’t know what to think about homelessness. I believe in a broad safety net. Not everyone gets a strong, nurtured start in life (like I did), and not everyone can work hard and leverage that work into a good financial position (like I have). I try to respect that dreary fact of capitalism. At the same time, when an able-bodied person on the street asks me for cash, I feel it doesn’t respect the work that got me to where I am.

But, I’m reminded today that my position, here in the warmth, drinking my $4 smoothie, pecking on my laptop, is one of privilege. The spur for this reality check? From where I roost I’m watching a homeless man, maybe in his early 50s, underdressed in the near-freezing cold, sitting on a stone bench sucking eggs.

No, really. He’s plucking them one by one from the foam carton perched on his skinny legs. He thumps each just enough to open up one end, then kicks his head back to suck them down. He’s gone through almost the whole dozen.

Somehow this man fell through the safety net. Maybe he has no family. Maybe he’s unbalanced and can’t keep a job. Maybe with medication he’d be able to support himself. Maybe he’s just lazy.

Whatever the reason, it’s the richest country in the world, and the homeless suck eggs.