It was late Sunday afternoon at the downtown Phoenix dining hall run by the Catholics for the homeless, a nasty neighborhood. Outside the temperature was over 110. Inside the swamp coolers and thick concrete walls of the crumbling old gray building weren't keeping it much cooler. Shouts came from the dining hall. I ran out from the kitchen to see what was going on. In the middle of the room where 200 people were eating, not one raised his eyes to see what was happening. Six black men were stomping another black man lying on the ground. The young Notre Dame graduate who ran the place was standing on the periphery not knowing what quite to do. I pushed him out of the way, elbowed past the attackers and straddled the man on the ground. The man facing me shouted "I'm going to kill you Mother F..ker!" I wanted to drive my fist through his face, and in my younger days would have let him have it in an instant, but now I was older and wiser. Instead of starting a riot with me in the middle of the fight, outnumbered, I shouted back: "this is God's house! Stop and get out or you'll never eat here again!" I watched for a knife, trying not to break eye contact. My testicles were trying to hide behind my spine. The victim scooted away and out the door while his attackers were distracted. Then they all just stopped and without a word drifted out the door, too.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Enter the Dragon
It was late Sunday afternoon at the downtown Phoenix dining hall run by the Catholics for the homeless, a nasty neighborhood. Outside the temperature was over 110. Inside the swamp coolers and thick concrete walls of the crumbling old gray building weren't keeping it much cooler. Shouts came from the dining hall. I ran out from the kitchen to see what was going on. In the middle of the room where 200 people were eating, not one raised his eyes to see what was happening. Six black men were stomping another black man lying on the ground. The young Notre Dame graduate who ran the place was standing on the periphery not knowing what quite to do. I pushed him out of the way, elbowed past the attackers and straddled the man on the ground. The man facing me shouted "I'm going to kill you Mother F..ker!" I wanted to drive my fist through his face, and in my younger days would have let him have it in an instant, but now I was older and wiser. Instead of starting a riot with me in the middle of the fight, outnumbered, I shouted back: "this is God's house! Stop and get out or you'll never eat here again!" I watched for a knife, trying not to break eye contact. My testicles were trying to hide behind my spine. The victim scooted away and out the door while his attackers were distracted. Then they all just stopped and without a word drifted out the door, too.
