There have been some recent happenings in my life that have caused me re-introduce a blog I wrote long ago, so here it is. We must not allow others to place us in their little boxes so society can conveniently decide what we are, or are not.
Let me take you back in time for a few minutes. It is May 1991.
After living on the streets of Las Vegas (slept in parks, casino bathrooms, anywhere I could lay my head) for 1 1/2 years I had gotten a job managing free bingo at a small downtown casino. As it was free there were many homeless who came hoping for a chance to win a few dollars, and make it through another day. I determined that under my watch they would be treated as honored guests. I had been on the other side, and knew what it was to suffer.
I was living in an apartment building at 7th and Carson with my 2 children. For those who don't know downtown Vegas other than the "Fremont Experience" let me explain. This corner had the largest sale of crack-cocaine in the state of Nevada.
I rarely spoke to anyone, as I am a private person. Just hi in the halls. Didn't actually know my neighbors. Most were aware I'm sure that I would leave my apt. at 3:30 AM to walk to work 6 blocks away. Pitch dark.
Now May was the time of the Rodney King beating. Young blacks were angry and rioting at the injustice. We had been told to expect an attack at the post office 1 block from where I worked. Perhaps even at the casino. But I had to work and support my kids, so I walked to work as always.
It wasn't till a few days later that I found out that a dozen dealers had followed behind me all the way to make sure I got there safely. On the corner of Fremont that I crossed there had been 3 drive-by shootings. Three people shot, but I made it because of these unusual angels.
Respect given, respect received.
Take care on whom you judge to be beneath you. You just might need angels at your back someday.
