The common weal, meaning the body politic, the well-being of an entity or state. The state capital, a Sunday in spring: streets where, even late in this century, I don't see too many with my same face. Perhaps transients and students are gone on break. Perhaps, dark-skinned ones like me are careful to avoid spaces where rebel flags with seven stars still whip high in the wind, shameless declaration and misplaced belief that all men are not created equal. But surely you've walked past the homeless on the avenue, stopped to listen to buskers at the train station take a sad song and make it better, through chipped teeth and smiles.