The Green Pickup

     The truck made a slow turn down Capital Street, as if the driver was looking for something. Just an old green Chevy step-side pickup, which had the fender wells on the outside of the truck bed. An unimportant detail unless you’re a car guy, but some details become more important when a crime is involved. As a retired detective from a major metropolitan city, I was attuned to picking out details even in my small-adopted town.

     It was a quiet Thursday morning, but that would soon change. Lunch time neared, which brought heavy traffic to the many fast food restaurants on Capital. The park would be filled with joggers and people stealing away for a few minutes of sanity from a hectic work life. People lived more stressful lives these days and welcomed a time to let their guard down, lunch was one of these opportunities.

     I made my rounds to the local downtown businesses dropping off the free weekly Triton newspaper. I didn’t earn much, but it occupied a little of my retirement free time. The extra money came in handy, but it was more about keeping busy. I always made sure I completed my deliveries before the lunch hour, then I could sit in the park and people watch. Not an exciting life, but interesting, because people are interesting.

     On this morning, as I walked to my usual spot in the park I again noticed the green pickup as it drove down Capital Street. This time the bed was full. A tarp held down the load with bungee straps.  Normally the sight of a loaded pickup rarely drew attention or caused concern, this being a blue-collar town, but there was something different today.

     This time I noticed the driver, of Middle Eastern decent, with a full beard, as one might expect. There was a passenger too, a black man, African American or whatever they go by now. Immediately, my suspicions surfaced, but should they? My police background reinforced by the nightly news was the cause. The news survives by promoting fear. The truck slowed and finally stopped in front of a multi story office building, Capital Insurance, employing about 300 workers.

     It couldn’t be ignored, especially this time of year with all the holiday shoppers out and about.  I called the police to report a suspicious truck.

     The police responded quickly. Many spectators watched from afar. I felt I had done the smart thing, but it didn’t feel right. The police talked with the driver for about fifteen minutes, then a tow truck appeared, hooked up the old truck and dragged it away. By now there were three squad cars. The two suspects got in one of the police cars and were driven away.

     What was going on? Did I divert an impending disaster? Just then a cop pulled over to the crowd. Questions flew at him like pellets in an ice storm.

     “What’s going on?”

     “Who are those people?”

     “Are we in danger?”

     The cop held up his hands to quiet the crowd, then said. “Everything is under control. We were just checking into some suspicious behavior. I can’t say anything more at this time.”

     “Seems like that’s always your response.” Someone yelled from the crowd.

     “Yeah!” others said in agreement.

     “Look, if you want to know more come over to the Brantley’s high school auditorium on Friday night at 6:00 pm. We should have more information at that time.” The cop stated.

* * *

     Friday night came quickly. In the meantime the town buzzed with rumors about the green truck and the occupants. The parking lot was full that night when I arrived. Seemed like everyone wanted to know what impending danger lay ahead.

     The crowd sat anxiously awaiting for the police to explain. The Chief of Police walked out to address the crowd.

     “This is a highly unusual situation, which is easier to understand if I show you this,” as he pulled back a curtain to display a mountain of toys. 

     The Chief went on to explain. “The two men we picked up the other day, both Muslims, have been collecting and repairing toys to distribute to poor children of this town for the Christmas holiday. It’s not their religious holiday, but they knew most of the people in this town were Christian and they wanted to do something for the children.” The Chief paused. “But there’s a problem . . . their truck broke down and they can’t complete their Christmas wish. If anyone’s able to help, please see Ahmed or Abdul after the meeting.”

     A shamed silence struck the crowd and a line immediately formed in front of the two Muslims to sign up to help. That day I learned some details can lead you in the wrong direction.

     I still deliver the local paper, but when I’m finished I skip the park and instead go to Ahmed and Abdul’s Coffee and Tea House in an unfamiliar part of town. The back of their shop has a room filled with broken toys in need of repair. Toys for the poor kids bring us together and our worlds grow closer.

How Influencers and Choices affect our lives?

     What are the influencers in our lives? There are many and each has both a good and bad side. Family upbringing can give you a strong desire to live your life making good choices but the opposite can happen if you have a poor family support system. Friends and associates influence your life especially when you’re young and trying to fit in or figure things out. Status and possessions also are influencers throughout your life.

     Every person you meet has the potential to influence your life. The more people you meet the more you expand your knowledge of the outside world. Limiting these encounters limits your ability to recognize when you are being influenced. 

     There have been many masterful influencers both good and bad. Many cult leaders are great influencers but their purpose is self-serving. 

     It’s a part of life that we all deal with on a daily basis. It takes recognizing the good and bad influences to make good choices.

     We make hundreds of choices everyday; some become so automatic that we barely consider it a choice. Some choices are given great consideration but many of our choices are routine. How do the influences in our life affect our choices? If you were brought up by a nurturing family that guided you through life, giving you important advise along the way, you’re path to success and happiness would be easy to see. 

     Growing up without a supportive family or no family, your choices would be limited by hopelessness. Imagine growing up in a country where everyday is about survival. This is where a young person can be influenced by a can of beans or a place to sleep. They think of the future as the next day, not their life as an adult. Maybe, they don’t believe there is a chance to be an adult, so they choose based on those expectations. Repeated bad choices can blind you from good choices. 

     This is how hopelessness is born. The choice of survival always wins over righteousness. Born into jeopardy is different than choosing jeopardy. 

     It’s wrong to judge, I’ve heard people say. But, how do we live in peace without judging others for their crimes. We can’t and we shouldn’t, but judge the crime not the person or their nationality. That won’t be easy, because we see the people as thugs or sometimes just plain evil. Excess guns and mental condition are often blamed and they both maybe a contributing factor, but isn’t lack of opportunity really the main factor? If people feel they have an opportunity to better their self by making better choices they are given hope.

     Actions drive consequences, as they should. Many criminals go to jail for their crimes, but many of the mass murders take their own life before jail becomes an option. This leaves us feeling empty for the innocent lives lost and for a murderer that will never be punished.

     As with many problems there can be many answers or partial answers. No one person or group knows what the right solutions to eliminate violence, but I can guarantee that doing nothing, changing nothing is not the answer. “Just Saying...”

The old guy wants to know "What's social about social media?"

     Social gatherings have been around for ages. It’s where you could meet people, develop friendships, tell jokes, dance with a girl, debate political viewpoints, etc. The word social evokes a pleasant gathering, for the most part, but the current social media doesn’t have that same vibe. It seems more appropriate to call it anti-social media, not to say there aren’t positive posts, but few by comparison.

     The old guy likes the jokes (even the lame ones), vacation photos, family posts even political viewpoints, if they’re not hateful. That’s where the problem is, most political posts are hateful. You know what the old guy does? He hides them. People posting hateful messages are closed-minded and won’t consider others opinions. To use the words of a younger generation, those people are cra, cra, so you gone. See, the old guy has learned some new lingo from the youngsters.

     Let’s put the social back into social media by hiding hateful messages. It won’t eliminate the hate but if at least you won’t have to look at it. The old guy says, “If you don’t want to be labeled cra cra, be more sociable.”