Least Somebody Wants Me

 

The following is close to an actual conversation between two individuals after one of them “broke” into the home of the other one in Blount County AL October 23, 2005.  “What are you doing here?” “I live here.”  “What a ya mean you live here?”  “See, here is my bed and my backpack and other possessions and this is my home till tomorrow morning.” “I have a transient at the Cleveland Church of the Brethren on highway 79 and request backup.”  Thus began the saga of guilty until proven innocent that happens quite regularly as I drift across our nation. 

 

Praise God the huge majority of the time law enforcement leaves me alone.  A very few times I’m treated the way a little old lady would be treated, you know with dignity and respect.  And then there is a much larger time when I am guilty until proven innocent.  Believe me it gets, “old” being a threat to society when I’m not.

 

Sometimes I wish we’d learn to judge a book by it’s cover and forget the don’t judge a book by it’s cover stuff.  I mean why learn something we aren’t going to do.  Next time you go to a bookstore look at the covers.  There are flashy, sexy, colorful, bright, and attention grabbing covers on most books for sale.  The dirty rotten truth is we do judge books by their covers, book manufacturers know it, and play to our natural instincts in order to sell their ware.

 

The dirty rotten truth is most of us judge others by the way they look and law enforcement does too.  It’s called profiling and is supposed to be illegal for the authorities to do this. 

 

Saturday night home was the Cleveland, AL Church of the Brethren and I remarked to those gathered on Sunday morning how nice it was when the vehicles with loud sirens approached the night before I knew they weren’t after me.  I was very grateful the authorities were notified the church building would be occupied over the weekend.

 

Some how, the Sunday night patrol wasn’t informed by their central command properly and eventually three officers showed up in three different cruisers.  I wanted to tell them every time they used the word transient, “you got that right, and that’s the only thing you got right”, but didn’t for obvious reasons.  Every time they used the “T” word it reminded me of the negative impact the “N” word has on African Americans.  Being a transient or a black person is a good way to be profiled.  I can get off the road and clean up and my “T” will disappear.  A black person is stuck with “N” forever.

 

The truth didn’t convince them I was in my home.  My driver’s license didn’t convince them, nor did the dated church bulletin from October 23, 2005 with Brother Don Vermilyea preaching, ditto the newspaper articles I carry with me.  The pastor and another family’s phone numbers didn’t work, as most of us don’t answer our phone when it’s 11:15 at night. 

 

As they went through my possessions without my permission I told them, “don’t be doing that” and was informed, “don’t lawyer us, we have the power and you have none.”

 

Praise God after telling them ten times y’all were informed I was going to be here Saturday and Sunday nights one of them got the bright idea to call in and ask if I had permission.  It was cool hearing dispatch respond in a way that backed my story.  Not so cool that I snapped my fingers and told them to beat it.  I know my place cuz I’m still a “T”.

 

Yes, they left and no, they didn’t apologize for busting into my home, hassling me, or going through my possessions.  Hey, one out of four isn’t bad especially when the one is they left.

 

Alabama was a friendly state concerning the walk across America as it relates to law enforcement.  I was only hassled three times during my thirty-seven days of being an Alabamian.  One of the three times was semi courteous even. 

 

Texas was a friendly state too.  Being hassled only twice in  eighty-six days was a minor miracle especially with my preconceived notion of ornery Texas cops.

 

As always when two or more officials are gathered things get more than twice as rough on this looser in societies eyes.  In fact if you know about the Richter scale for calculating the devastating effect of earth quakes the same exponential growth happens for hassling as the number of officers increases.  If four of them ever surround me it will be tar and feather and tied to  tracks time.  Praise God it’s only been three officers twice.

 

Two young state troopers stopped me after walking Texas for over four hundred of the 1,375 miles walked in that state.  The main US highways had six-foot wide paved shoulders on the other side of the white line.  This line is the demilitarized zone “DMZ” for walkers and vehicular traffic.  Both sides will venture into the others territory, but most of us know our place and return to where we belong.  I was minding my own business walking six feet from traffic adjacent to the grassy area.

 

Both officers where ornery.  I wondered two things about them as they were trashing me out.  I wondered if they’d started shaving yet and wondered if this was their first official day on the job.  Being a pro at this looser drifter career, discretion was exercised, thus I didn’t ask any questions about their peach fuzz or length of employment. 

 

I pleaded with them when they handed down their verdict of walk in the unmowed ditch with the rattle snakes, gopher holes, beer bottles, rocks, sand burrs, ticks, and other obstacle course type materials.  I asked how come the scores of Texas state troopers who’d passed me by for over a month hadn’t stopped me and ordered me to the ditch.  Were they all not following the laws they where supposed to enforce?

 

They didn’t want to hear any of it and told me they would be calling the sheriff to transport me over the county line despite my pleas of I’m walking across America and can’t get in his vehicle unless I’m being arrested.

 

I was irate, fuming on the inside when they left as I walked and stumbled along the ditch.  I plotted how I was gonna make it rough on the sheriff when he arrived. 

 

Praise God I finally gave up those feelings and gave them to the Lord.  “Lord I need your help, I’m going to disrespect someone who has nothing to do with this whole thing, please soften my heart, please help me to forgive.”

 

Rather than be injured in the ditch I disobeyed an order, returned to the paved shoulder, and continued praying and walking.  Less than a minute later a Texas State trooper car drove up.  “Lord, didn’t I just pray for your help?  O boy I’m in a heap of trouble now.”

 

The peach fuzzers had returned.  The one who treated me the harshest exited his car with a thick book and pointed me to his vehicle.  “O boy, I got a bad feeling about this”.  He put the book on the hood of his car and showed me in his Texas trooper’s academy text I was right and they where wrong.  With that went an “I’m sorry” apology and “I’ve radioed the sheriff not to pick you up.”

 

My heart softened, and not in a way I could have ever imagined.  God is Great, all the time and we must give everything up to him if we and the world are to be healed.

 

The apostle Paul writes in Romans chapter twelve verse nineteen, “do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath for it is written it’s mine to avenge, I will repay say’s the Lord.”  It’s not about us taking getting even into our own hands. 

 

I’ve been apologized to only once in over four years of walking across America.  Is there anyone you’re needing to apologize to?  If you mean it the chances are excellent their heart will dramatically soften like mine did.

 

Till the next time…

In Christ’s love,

Don