Concern is written on faces throughout North Tampa communities

The face of the recession stares from the median, forlorn and wanting.

It's weathered and worn, with wrinkles crisscrossing like lines on a road map.

The blank expressions frequent more corners, whether it's Platt Street and Bayshore Boulevard or Fletcher Avenue near Interstate 275.

They've gone from occasional sightings to shift work, taking turns using a sign that they hide in the bushes.

The increasing presence of panhandlers signals the difficult times our nation, our state and our community endure. But the tired looks tell only part of the story.

For the face of the recession can be seen everywhere.

It's bright and reassuring, determined to do whatever it takes to provide for its family. Then it leaves a mom and son in Riverview and heads north because work no longer can be found here.

The face of the recession ponders what happened to the familiar and friendly glances it grew to know at youth football games. It grows listless when it learns one family moved away to live with parents after losing their house in foreclosure, and another left to chase dreams in North Carolina.

The face of the recession reminisces about his childhood home and how all eight neighbors stayed put for decades.

Then it reflects about its current street, where moving vans parade through, real estate signs grow like weeds, and weeds grow as tall as trees. It figures that house on the corner needs a revolving door.

The face of the recession calculates the number of empty storefronts dotting the landscape and worries about fewer places to find groceries and fewer grocers to employ people willing to do anything.

The face of the recession listens to a principal lament about losing teaching positions and programs.

The face of the recession gathers with friends at the local pub and complains about his electric bill. The friends also fret while they debate the president's decisions, arguing recovery will come either because of him or despite him.

They count their blessings and hope for better days.

The face of the recession cheers on his sons at the football game, and beams when they make big plays. Their youthful exuberance blots out thoughts of bill collectors — at least for a night.

The face of the recession celebrates at a birthday party and talks about her exciting new job. Yes, she explains, "I got laid off, and I was mad and frightened, but ultimately I found something better."

The face of the recession is a CEO riding a silver lining. "We're actually hiring. It's going to be all right," he said. There's comfort in such confidence and hope in such enthusiasm.

The face of the recession perseveres because in America, we know no other way. It puts its faith in the country's resilient history and vows to stand tall in these tough times because that's how our grandparents got through this.

The face of the recession looks back from the mirror and sees a man so passionate about his job he can't imagine working anywhere else. It smiles about optimistic signs and frowns about the gossip that job cuts may be imminent.

Then it shrugs, knowing that worry won't keep it employed.

That's all I'm saying.