It’s HOT. It’s raining AND… it’s HOT. We passed out water with the meals, and a cold water to boot.
After Traci and I packed the van, we decided to hit up our new favorite taco truck for dinner. People were out on the streets and hovering over street corners. Large dark eyes were desperate and starving everywhere. Before we even got to Danto J’ambre taco truck. we served at least four people meals and hygiene kits from my driver’s side window as we passed.
Once we headed out as a team, we immediately saw/didn’t see our friend who lives beneath a large tarp in a doorway. As soon as he heard his name, a happy face popped up. Like a jolly jack-in-the-box but covered in trash He was delighted to see friends who care. Traci said that when she talked to him, he was extra sweet and polite. She could also sense that he was developmentally challenged. She imagined him as someone’s whose parents passed away and then who got lost in an unmanageable world.
There was a photographer out with us tonight. He works for an online news site named “Face Detroit”. I’ll have to let you know if there is an article about us.
We were trying to take care of a particularly vulnerable young woman. While waiting for my Marilyn Monroe to come out, we were able to take care of a couple of other young ladies. The first thing they asked for was pepper spray. I had some, and they were ecstatic. They are supposed to get their apartment in just a few more days.
For as joyful as it is when someone gets off the street, it’s just as gut-wrenching when you can’t even reach them. I want to run into Marilyn Monroe’s apartment; grab her, throw her over my shoulder, and run away with her. I want to hold her, and rock her in my arms and tell her that no one will ever do those things to her ever again.
I wish I had the superpower to free her.
As the teams were driving through Detroit, I noticed a car stalled at an intersection. It was blistering hot, and this very large woman was pouring gas into her car from a large gas can while cars were whipping around her from every direction. I noticed that the gas station was kitty-corner across the street. Like her car couldn’t make it the last 50 feet.
“What a crappy time to run out of gas.” I said to Traci.
I turned around and grabbed one of the ice-cold water bottles from the cooler behind Traci’s seat. Then, I slowly pulled up next to the sweltering woman and offered her a bottle of cold water as cars whipped around me.
“Oh God, yes, please.” was her relieved reply.
I passed it to her through my window and slowly pulled away.
“That was very nice of you.” Traci acknowledged.
That is my superpower.
And that’s how we do it in Detroit.
Amen.
