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September 5th, 2006
I was driving home from my girlfriend's place (who is now my dear wife) and almost home, meters to go...
We were going to go for a hike the next day so I thought that I would stop by the grocery store on the way home and pick-up some supplies with which to make a nice lunch for the hike. There I was driving home with the groceries piled on the seat next to me, the sun had long since set and it was quite dark and quite late, when I saw two figures walking across the road. I was just about home, in fact I was in front of my home when I stopped, but apparently had time for one little adventure before calling it a night. The two gentlemen, for I now saw that they were a pair of late teen boys, had crossed right in front of my car and I was forced to stop for fear of hitting them. Once I had stopped they came around to the passenger side of my car and I rolled the window down an inch thinking that they might need some help. The closest fellow was shirtless and looked somewhat disheveled. No sooner had I rolled the window down but a mere crack when the shirtless fellow somehow, at the speed of lightning, shoved his entire arm through the opening and opened the door from the inside. Having accomplished this feat, he then proceeded to flop himself down on the passenger seat - yes, right on top of my groceries (and my wallet as well) - and demand that I provide him with some drugs. I says, pardon? He says, drugs! I shake my head in disbelief. I asked the fellow if he needs some help, "can I call somebody for you?". He replies by demanding some coke (yes, cocaine). I make a little joke about my poor little run-down hatchback and my socio-economic status and ask if I look like I have any coke. Nick - as I later found out his name to be - didn't think I was all that funny and proceeded to show me his displeasure at my attempted humour by pummeling me about the face and head. After a short flurry of blows, he let off. What a scene: my blood was splattered all over the inside of my little car and all over myself (not to mention poor Nick got plenty on himself). Following this little physical interaction between us - this predominantly one-sided physical interaction- I decided that Nick required some education about how a gentleman ought to conduct himself in civil society. So, I proceeded to tell Nick as much: "this is no way to go through life", "you should get some help", "there are people you can call, services in place for this kind of thing", "let's talk about this", "we can work through this, there are better ways to deal with your problems", etc. Nick didn't want to talk, he didn't seem to want to work through his problems. I appealed to his comrade, who had been standing just outside the passenger door watching the whole thing, James (I asked him his name, and, yes, he told me) to bring some sense into this whole episode. He decided that this was a perfect time to demand some money from me. He would call off Nick from his assault for $20. (Again) I says, Pardon? I told James that I would do all I could to help them out if they needed help, but I would not allow them to rob me. Well, let me tell you, Nick was not pleased by my response (again): more fists, more blood...
Labour Day Weekend - the previous year
I was coming home from work; the sun had long set. It's a long commute to and from work via public transit (walk, bus, skytrain, bus, walk). I was working at a Drop-in-Centre for drug-affected/street-entrenched youth in downtown Vancouver that summer - I was almost done work for the season as school was back in session after the weekend...
I was a mere five minutes from home. Walking along such a long familiar street, in the warmth of the late summer eve, I felt good. Looking around to take in the ambiance, I noticed two cars approaching me. They cruised by slowly the first time. It was during the second pass that they decided to broach a conversation with me. Their leader, or at least I assumed him to be, popped out of the sunroof of the first car and proceeded to strike-up a conversation with me. Unfortunately, the conversation - which was actually not much of a conversation since to be a conversation would require the input of two people - consisted mainly of open threats and abusive insults. Sure, there were questions (such as "what's your f*cking problem asshole?", "you looking to f*cking die?", and "you think you're tough f*ggot?") and suggestions (such as "step up and I'll f*cking kill you" and "come over here so I can kick your f*cking head in") but not much substance to speak of. It's a funny thing how some moments can be so defining. In that moment, in less than a heart beat, I asked myself a question and made a life-long decision. I asked myself, "Who am I?"... "Am I the kind of man who gets into fights?"... "Am I the kind of man who responds with violence?"... "Am I a violent man?". There were certainly many times in the past when I did respond with violence. There were plenty of times when I beat the [you-know-what] out of guys who had threatened me. But the question remains... "Who am I?". In the instant that I asked myself that question, almost before it was even asked, before the thought entered my head, my heart gave me the answer: "You are not a violent man"... "You are a man who suffers insult, who suffers threat, but answers in love or not at all". Yes, that is who I am. I didn't get into a fight that eve. No, I hung my head low. I listened with patience as this young fellow used every taunt, every insult, every threat that he knew. I walked and listened and hung my head as the two cars followed along beside me for half a block before deciding to find their fun elsewhere that eve.
I came to a decision that night - I knew who I was, and what kind of man I wanted to be. I'm glad that I made that decision; I'm glad that I've grown into the man that I am. I'm glad for the sake of broken, hurting, and confused teenagers like Nick and James. They don't need violence in return for their violence. They need love and patience.
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