how i became an activist
Every person who has ever lived has a unique story to tell. Of course, some life-stories are more interesting than others. This may be due to the fact that some people are active players in life while most are just the equivalent of movie “extras”.
I’m going to share with you the part of my story that explains how I graduated from being an “extra” to assuming a lead role as an activist.
I’ve always felt the hand of God preserving my life. From the time I was attacked by my next door neighbor’s dog as a boy; to the time I flipped my friend’s rickety old bicycle all the way over by squeezing the hand brake while flying down a hill (I had not used hand brakes before); to the time I was hit with a seriously high fever at Safety Patrol Training Camp; to the time I fell asleep with food on the stove’s burner only to be shaken awake by an unseen hand in time to for me to dash through the smoke to cover the pot that was flaming toward the ceiling and call the fire department (my sister’s home retained the awful smell of sulfur for many months); to the time I fell asleep on the highway after driving all night, drove off the road, rolled over several times, and came to rest on all four tires in the median – fortunately I did not hurt anyone else and received only a scratch on my knuckle; to the time I watched Jordan and Pippen’s first NBA championship from a hospital bed while afflicted with what I was told was viral meningeal encephalitis… it is clear to me – just from the occasions that I was aware of and can remember – that I’ve been blessed by God with more “lives” than a cat!
Just counting automobile accidents, I can recall being involved in at least 5 (not all were my fault). But none of these life-threatening incidents were enough to motivate me to step out of the shadows and into a leading role on the stage of life.
Then came 1:40am, Tuesday morning, the 15th of June 2009 – the most recent time that a gun was pointed at me. This was the moment that I became an activist. I had finally reached the “fed-up” point.
My Experience with Guns
All my life, I have tried to do the right thing. For the most part, I’ve minded my own business. Yet, I’ve managed to be threatened by (mostly illegally obtained) guns many times.
The first time was about twenty years ago. I was hanging out one day with a friend whom I’d met when we were co-workers at McDonalds. He picked up his uncle and we made a stop somewhere in DC. I had no clue where I was and sat in the car while my friend’s uncle went inside. After he returned to the car and we started to pull off, a van zoomed past us and turned to block our path. Several armed men jumped out of the van with guns pointed at our heads. They ordered us to get out of the car. It turned out that they were drug enforcement agents and we had stepped into their stakeout. Fortunately for me, we were not the major players whom they sought. They dumped the small amount of whatever was purchased in the gutter and sent us on our way (following a full search and some counseling of course).
The next encounter I had with a gun was while I was delivering pizza for a popular, nationwide chain. I was working in Maryland but near the DC line. In an effort to increase sales, we delivered pizza into DC – but only a few blocks into DC. One night, as I was returning to my car from a house I delivered to, I saw a couple of “brothers” running up to me and they put a gun to my neck. They took my cash and ran.
After returning to the restaurant, I called the police (in those days, mobile phones were still somewhat luxurious). I was notified that since the crime took place in DC, I had to drive back into the city limits and wait for detectives in a parking lot. When the detectives arrived, they had me sit in the back seat of their car and tell them what happened.
After they took my statement, I told the detectives that I wouldn’t want to have their job. I reasoned that they, naturally, were targets for criminals. What they told me forever opened my eyes and changed my perspective. They said that I was the one who was a target because I was unarmed. Criminals have to think carefully before attacking police because police shoot back (and are well-trained I might add).
[I'll finish this story soon...]
