By Verne Strickland (age 26 at the time of this writing)
The walk to the Cathedral – some four or five blocks distant from the parking lot – was one I shall never forget. At that early hour, crowds had already begun to deepen on the curb along the procession route. Some men, dressed only in suits, hunched their shoulders against the cold. We passed clusters of figures sleeping figures lying on the sidewalks at the feet of those who stood. One prone figure had a blanket pulled over his head. I saw a fellow walking along carrying an Army sleeping bag. He appeared to be just arriving. Though we were only three among thousands, I seemed to feel that we were about business, and had a purpose in being there. We reached the Cathedral, and decided to go inside before claiming a spot on the sidewalk. The curb had only a single line of people at that time.