CHANDLER, AZ — As much as I enjoyed our trip to Chicago, it’s great to be home. Shortly after the Southwest Airlines flight lifted off from the runway, we left the cool, damp, gray November day in Chicago, and quickly climbed above the clouds, and into an ocean of sunshine. And until it slipped below the horizon yesterday evening, it stayed “on” throughout the rest of the day.
On Tuesday night, as I headed to the New Apartment lounge to see Von Freeman, another incident happened that sparked some thought.
I drove north on Jeffrey Blvd, then at 75th Street, made a left turn, heading west. I barely noticed two vehicles on the side of the road until a woman stepped from between them and flagged at me. Without thinking, I pullled over to see what she wanted.
She walked to the window on the passenger side and told me that the driver of the other vehicle, an old Ford Econoline van, had swiped the rear of her car, had no driver’s license, no insurance, and was giving her, let’s say, inconsistent information. She asked if she could call her dad on my cell phone. I suggested that calling the police would be more in order, and she agreed.
I called the incident in to the police, giving them the location and situation. The operator asked if I would be there. Wanting to get to the club, I first told her I had someplace to go. But the woman, who may have been in her 20’s, said she was by herself and wary of the man, so I said I’d remain on the scene until the police came.
We hung up, and the wait began.
The woman went back to her car, and after a short while, I stepped out in the light rain to take a look at the damage myself.
The man, whose voice sounded like what you’d get if you poured gravel down your throat, began insisting to me, rather emphatically, that he didn’t cause the dent and scrapes that were on the woman’s car.
“These were already there!”, he insisted.
I told him that he was wasting his time trying to convince me of anything, although he didn’t seem to hear me. I went back to my vehicle and got my camera; thought it might be useful to get a picture or two.
The man turned his attention to the woman, stating that the dent was already there. Needless to say she wasn’t agreeing to that. The intensity level began to rise.
As I suggested that both remain calm, the man disengaged, walked back to his van and got in. As I clicked off a picture of her bumper, I heard the van’s engine start, lurch forward, and then make a sharp right into a vacant lot that we were next to.
Making sure he wasn’t aiming the van at me, I swung around to see that he was fleeing.
While there was no time to set up for a a great photographic shot, I flipped the flash up on the Nikon D200, pointed in his direction, and shot what was there. Damn! Couldn’t read the license number off the plate as he moved away into the darkness!
We had swung around to Jeffrey Blvd, about to head off to who knows where when we heard the WHOOP! WHOOP! of the Chicago Police patrol car siren, followed by flashing lights.
Within a minute or two later, he was in handcuffs and in the back seat. I guess he wasn’t able to produce a driver’s license, and the officer witnessed him driving the van, and apparently, fleeing the scene. The officer then came over to the woman to address her situation. She used my phone to call her parents; her father was on his way. And upon acknowledging to the officer that I called the incident in, I excused myself and went on to see Von Freeman.
In the Greater Scheme of things, you might wonder what was the importance of this incident matter? Was it as important as say, the war in Iraq, the shift of power in Congress, or what Paris Hilton will wear at her next party. For the woman’s family, it was certainly important that she made it through the ordeal without being harmed, and becoming another statistical “victim” in a big city where people increasingly seem to demonstrate how much they don’t care about each other.
The woman herself may appreciate the fact that, when she really needed help from a stranger, she got it. We’re sometimes prone to believing that “good” is slow to happen while “bad” is swift. That is the appearance. The reality is that it’s all experience, into which each party played a part. I wouldn’t cast my role in any heroic terms, simply playing the man who responded positively when flagged down.
The man who hit the lady’s car and tried to flee may have been ready for a change, and needed to see that he can’t really get away with the risks that he has grown accustomed to taking with his, or other peoples’ lives. In any event, it does seem that the positive impression will be the lasting one for this story; and in that sense, it was worth chronicling.
Ah….a conscious co-creator! And child of a visionary muscician, too.
Creation happens on two levels- our co-creation of the events, and then our singular creation of the meaning of the event. How we tell the story of what we are creating is a beacon for more of the same to manifest in our lives.
Something about this particular girl with her car drama called to you. The incident called forth your potential for heroism. My point is that if you can fully acknowledge who you were being in that incident then the good stuff of reward has a larger opening to flow into your life.
Does that make sense?
Thank you, and I agree on the likely outcome. Yet it’s all co-creation, with all components being necessary to create *this* particular outcome. While I’m the only one of the four people immediately involved (including the police officer), to see it this way in all likelihood, the experience will become positive food for thought — or thought for food — for others. 🙂
I think that you are giving yourself too little credit. Responding as a considerate, kind and decent human being is an act of heroism. Without you, this incident could have gone very differently.
Each time that you respond by bringing forth what you have to help others or create a safer world your soul enlarges.