A Loud Hut Turns Away Wrath

A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger. Proverb 15:1

I was helping a buddy move he and his family's stuff yesterday. Kind of opposite of the Jefferson's moving on up, he and his were moving on down...to a sketchy part of town, not a deluxe apartment in the sky but a street level domicile. They have had some trials and tribulations and need to build anew. He will be fine but in the mean time, he is living in a meaner part of Lancaster.  He and his wife and baby girl will bring hope to the block.  

As we hopped in the U-Haul after completing the move he commented that some dude was walking up the street leading an informal parade of cars of sorts. He was drinking a can of beer and not getting the way out of the cars on the road. He was pretty drunk. My buddy adjusted the U-Haul's rear-view mirror and I saw his stumbling visage. Warning, drunken men are closer than they appear. The street was narrow, only letting one care pass at a time.

Soon, he passed us in the truck and the old besotted old man continued his path in the middle of the road, staring down an SUV coming in the opposite direction. It was a stand-off yet the old man was barely standing. He swayed like a broken fence in the strong wind, not an impenetrable fortress. The man in the SUV actually hit the old man softly with his bumper. The dance continued for ten seconds or so until he stumbled out of the way long enough for the irritated SUV driver to pass by, but not long enough for us to pass.

My buddy is chill and so am I so we decided to wait it out. The old man got in a three point football stance in the middle of the street like a wide receiver. Maybe he used to play football, who knew his stories. Perhaps he was a star on the gridiron in his younger days when fleet of foot and not tanked on beer. I decided to play along and cried out the truck window, "Hut, hut, hut!!!" Amazingly, old man got up from his stance, turned around, stumbled onto the sidewalk, and busted out laughing. Real joy on a face that has had its share of pain, self-administered or not.  He smiled broadly, missing a row of teeth. I lateraled him an imaginary football as well pulled by.

Taking a softer approach awoke the child in him...it became a moment of play rather than a scene of degradation and anger. As long as the child lives in us, we have hope for the world and intoxicated old men on broken and narrow city streets stumbling...