Recently, I remembered an event that happened a few years ago, and I started thinking about it to see if it would produce any gems of wisdom. I mused on it from several different angles. And, yet, I still haven’t been able to extrapolate any profound messages. (Is extrapolate the right word? I like the sound of it.) I think, though, that this experience was important enough to continue considering it.
This event was quite the predicament. I have since decided that it contained 7 different layers to ponder. Catastrophe, Helpfulness, Ineptitude, Kindness, Danger, Judgement, and Gratitude. There was a lot going on.
We live in a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia. Typical suburban life. At the time of the event, one of my daughters was early in her working career after graduating from college. She moved to a duplex within Atlanta city limits, amid the hustle and bustle of city life. It was a very lovely area. While not in downtown proper, the area was a very old neighborhood, where the streets were narrow and winding, and lanes seemed to shift to the left or right without warning. I found them difficult to drive. The streets also connected diverse sections of town, so that you could be driving through a decent neighborhood one minute and find yourself in a more questionable part of town the next. I wasn’t surprised, dismayed, but not surprised, when my daughter called me and told me about the catastrophe. She had been in an accident on her way home from work. In a sketchy part of town. She asked me to come and help (rescue) her. I immediately jumped in the car to drive the 50 minutes to meet her at the scene of the accident.
The accident was not her fault. A junk-hauling truck coming from the other direction had inexplicably turned left in front of her and crashed into her car. Her car was immobile, blocking a full lane of traffic. During rush hour traffic on a narrow city street, that was not a good thing. We got my husband Rob (out of town) on the phone and discussed our Triple AAA car service and our insurance coverage. The police arrived, issued my daughter a citation for following too close, tore it up, rewrote the citation for the junk-hauling truck being at fault and asked us how we were going to move the car. We told them that Triple AAA was on the way. The officer said that the police department could have the car towed to the city garage, but we said “thank you, no,” because we knew the city garage was way on the furtherest side of Atlanta, and it would be a bear for us to get back to deal with the car in the days to come. Funny side note: it was actually Rob’s car, which he had let my daughter borrow for the week. No good deed goes unpunished. The police wrapped up their investigation, said goodbye, and left us to it.
I've looked, but I couldn’t find any pictures of the accident scene. In an alarming development, I seem to have lost touch with all our family pictures from 2013-2016. You know, graduations, birthdays, vacations, and more. The pics must be sitting in some defunct laptop from back before I bought into the whole cloud storage thing. SO not happy. I need to dig around in the garage and find our discarded devices and hope for charging cords. Wish me luck! But, I did find online clipart depicting a variety of car crashes, none of which looks exactly like ours, but adds color to this page.
The scene of the crash was intense. My working car was there and my daughter’s (Rob’s) smashed up car was there. We were sitting by the wreck in a used car lot waiting for the tow truck. Besides having angry after-work commuters flash evil eyes at us as they tried to navigate around the broken car, we had multiple lively characters to contend with. The used car lot was across the street from a homeless population encampment and hangout. As soon as the wreck occurred, when my daughter was trying to figure out what to do, a homeless man named Anthony arrived on the scene, announcing that he had seen what happened. He then, to his credit, drummed up all his street smarts and advised my daughter on what she should do. He was full of helpfulness. Anthony was still on the scene after I arrived. I wouldn’t say that he was a constant companion, but he popped in and out, making pronouncements and offering suggestions. I’m pretty sure that when he left the parking lot, he went to brag to others about the accident that he was managing. He laid claim to the affair and wanted everyone else to know it.
Soon, other homeless men arrived in the used car parking lot. It was obviously a regular passing spot for them. A group of them, with our consent, were able to push the car a little more onto the curb to improve the flow of traffic. Several men announced that they, too, had seen the accident and that they were willing to testify in court, if need be. One fellow continued to circle the scene on his bike as he retold the story over and over. There was evidently a pecking order among the men, because Anthony let some of the men talk to us, and others, he shooed away forcefully. He spoke with bravado and assured us that things were under control. He always encouraged us and told us everything would work out fine. We became concerned about the length of time passing and the impending darkness, so we reached out again to Triple AAA. They told us they had an unprecedented number of accidents to handle and someone would be heading our way soon. That was the first of 5 calls that I made to Triple AAA as we waited and waited.
As night fell, we called the police to discuss our situation. They, again, offered to tow our car to the distant city garage, but without a guarantee of when they could get over to our location with the tow truck. They said that if we felt we were in danger, then we should leave. Danger? Not really. But we are very uncomfortable here. Even so, we decided to wait it out with Triple AAA, because we didn't want to leave the car unattended, and how long could it really take? Four hours, that’s how long. Complete ineptitude, in our minds.
Sitting in my car in the dark for four hours, we were on constant alert to see if anyone was approaching from any direction. It was unnerving and exhausting. Anthony continued to check in on us. During that time, a couple of stragglers started investigating our wrecked car. When they opened the car door to look inside, I jumped out from my nearby car and shouted at them to "GET AWAY FROM MY CAR!!!" Sent them running. Then, a group of young people came marching into the lot, following directions on a cellphone. We heard them talking about a missing iPhone that had been tracked to this location. Anthony immediately answered the challenge by rounding up a group of likely suspects, one of whom volunteered that he had found this iPhone just lying on the ground. The group collected the phone and then walked away without incident. A parade of men continued to pass through the parking lot, around our broken car, and to the encampment across the street. We hoped our pal Anthony was keeping an eye out for us.
My daughter said that she thought we should give Anthony some money to thank him for all his kindness. I was skeptical. When I looked in my wallet and saw that the only cash I had was a $20 bill, I was even more skeptical. I had noted that the used car lot was surrounded by businesses like liquor stores. And, there was an Honest-to-God Peep Show building right next door. That's what the sign said! Peep Show.
This is not what the Peep Show business looked like; it looked much dingier. But Peep Show pictures from the 1940s are fun, nonetheless.
I worried that if we gave Anthony money, he would misuse it. Food or anything else that could improve his comfort-- that would be much better. But, we were in no position to provide those things for him in our hour of need. I worried that Anthony would blow the money and not do himself any favors. I passed judgement on him. But, my daughter was adamant that she wanted to thank him and we should give him cash. We could not control what he did with the money. But, we could express gratitude and treat him as an equal, despite his rough condition.
Thinking about it, I knew that Anthony’s interests were rooted in gaining status among his peers. He wanted to be Top Dog on the accident scene. He wanted leverage to tell others what they could and couldn’t do. He wanted recognition. The other homeless men, who feebly attempted to join his team, were for the most part dismissed. Only a few choice friends were allowed to discuss the case with him, speak to us, or even hang around nearby. I know that his concerns in life were much bigger than this moment. But, whether he meant to or not, he had done a great service to my daughter and me. He gave her good advice when she was alone, and he kept an eye on us loosely. It made us feel a little more secure to know that Anthony was in our corner, and only a stone’s throw away. If push came to shove, could we really rely on him? I don't know, but, we felt like he was on our side, a least a little.
About 10 minutes after we gave Anthony the $20 bill, we saw him walking down the street, singing at the top of his lungs, carrying a tall bottle wrapped in a paper bag. He didn’t come back to see us. Then the tow truck arrived and towed the car 45 miles back to the mechanic shop near our house. We got back to my house around midnight.
Until then, my only experiences with people who were down-on-their-luck had been mission-oriented, feeding and providing supplies for them. A few pleasantries as we passed out goods. This was my first window into the lives of people who lived on the streets. The tables were turned, and we needed their help. It was very interesting, to say the least. Whether out of the kindness of their hearts, or because they were reaching for clout within the group, Anthony and a few others helped us more than I can say. We were very grateful.
Remember, I said this story involved Catastrophe, Helpfulness, Ineptitude, Kindness, Danger, Judgement, and Gratitude. These many years later, I am still trying to process it all and learn life lessons.
Final note-- just before press time, I DID recover the family photos from the lost years of 2013-2016 by digging out an old desktop computer, dusting it off, setting the wires, firing it up, rebooting the software, crossing my fingers, and scrutinizing the hard drive. Transferred them off of there. Whew! Crisis averted! But, isn't there some irony there? My relief over the 'crisis' of finding lost pictures vs the real-life troubles that some people, like Anthony, face day-to-day? Like I said, much to ponder.