by Dan Getz, International Blogger
This morning around 7:30 a.m.
as I boarded the DART 703 outside of Parkland
Memorial Hospital ,
a veteran of war in a wheelchair, I later learned was “Mark” immediately caught
my eye. Without hesitation, I got up
from my seat across from him and asked him which war he had fought in to
protect the freedoms I and all Americans have because of men and woman like
him. He replied that he had served our
country in Vietnam between the years of 1968 and 1969 and after shaking his
hand and thanking him for all he had done to protect and serve our country, he
told me he had a very nice letter to the Editor of the Dallas Morning News from
a buddy of his…that had been written about the Salvation Army and which he
wanted to give me, but the Dallas Morning News had already rejected it and refused
to publish it. He went on to tell me
that he hoped I might publish the copy he pulled out of a neat and orderly
folder and handed to me. I told him I
would…Today.
“They call him the Hawk and when he sweeps in along the
cold, dirty streets, he takes the old and sick, the homeless; the hopeless; the
crazy ones from drink and drugs or past because they count the men in the line
a laugh, although the powerful over the powerless in the way of nature. The Hawk is hungry and the wind from his wide
wings takes the weak on Harry Hines.
Near Butler an
old man pushes his wheelchair, stopping to rest in the ruts where a sidewalk
was supposed to be..Safer than to
backtrack and try to cross the street where the crosswalks are target areas and
another will be struck down. It happened
to him already…that old man in the cold hit on the green light off the Red Line
and he went for help, leaving his wheelchair in the street to struggle up the hill
for help. He was beaten of course
already from the wreck but he would be beaten more by the police who thought
‘just another bum’ and they took him to Green Oaks where he was beaten again by
his room-head cell mate but from behind and kicked – another broken tooth, but
what of it? There is nothing to eat
anyway. Finally at the VA they cleaned
up the old veteran but he would not receive another purple heart. There were lots of those already and more he
could not thank in countries where he never was doing things that never
happened with men and women who were never there.
Down the dirt walk with the cranes circling overhead as if
to protect him from the Hawk for a bit longer…On the concrete once more he sat
back down in the wheelchair ‘home’ he made from parts …some from here…some from
there…to make due instead of the nice fast one he had lost…lost along with
clothes, cigarettes, pocket change…bus pass…ID.
He stopped again to smoke a last snipe [for the Reader, a
‘snipe’ is the tobacco taken from several un-smoked portions of multiple
cigarette butts and re-rolled, usually in whatever paper that can be found, into a
‘new’ cigarette, or snipe] under the Red Shield that pray have room to protect
him from the Hawk tonight.
When you see that ‘bell ringer’ smiling at his kettle,
remember the Red Shield of the Salvation Army and the life they saved
tonight…the lives and souls that they save every
night from the cold winter wind the old men call the Hawk.
For others there will be no room at the inn and they will
live or die as the lot is cast out on the street this Christmas. It is a good day to die.”
Posted by: Dan Getz, aka "DANgerous" at Dance4One, www.dance4one.blogspot.com,
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