I’m Not Brave But I Know People Who Are

Today, I stopped at Walgreen’s to get new pens. I found the ‘pen section’ but it was on top of inflatable swim toys. I looked around for someone to help, somebody who could bring a ladder over, and then I heard the yelling.

At first, I thought it was one of the Walgreen’s workers talking on speaker phone. Maybe her boyfriend was mad or one of her kids wouldn’t listen. What was being said wasn’t clear, but the yelling voice was angry and getting louder. And then I realized that the angry voice, now a super angry voice, was from inside the store, about two aisles from me.

There was more back and forth with someone, the store manager I think, shouting “I’m going to call the police.” And then, in my mind’s eye, I had the yelling man go completely off his rocker and start shooting.

So, I pedaled out of there, not running but speed walking like I used to do with my friend Karen when we thought it would prevent the skin on our legs from collapsing in on itself (it didn’t). I got back in our truck, out of breath, and told my husband a guy was yelling and there was about to be something bad going down, so I hightailed it. And then I saw the guy out of the corner of my eye.

He wore a grubby t-shirt and too big khaki pants. His long hair was all over the place. He was sweaty and red-faced, hurrying to cross the street against the light. I knew right then he was a Street Angels ‘customer.’ And I also knew that my friends who do the real work with Street Angels would have gone up to the yeller in the store and talked to him. They would have been calm and solicitous and the Walgreen’s manager would have stepped back and let them work their magic.

Not me. I boogied.

If I told a certain friend of mine about this personal failure – how I’m not a good homeless outreach worker – she’d say, “That’s okay. You’re good at other things.”

And I am. But I kind of wish I was good at that thing. Oh well. Bless the people who are.