September 2, 2011
Cameron's doctor's office is located in an unsavory part of town. We're talking pawn shops and cash advance stores and Asian massage parlors and liquor marts on alternating corners.
There is rarely a time when I'm down there when there isn't a police barricade of some sort, or a news helicopter flying overhead.
You get the idea.
Yesterday, I found myself stuck in traffic in this neighborhood with a car full of kids. As I inched my way forward, I saw that a woman's car had broken down in the middle of the intersection. Other cars were maneuvering around her as she just sat in the seat, paralyzed by her misfortune.
I felt bad for the woman but there was not much that I could do, except call for help. Just as I got close enough where I could talk to her, I noticed a commotion to my right. When I turned my head, I saw a group of 6 young men, who had just come out of a liquor store, start running towards us. Rapidly.
For a split second, I thought I was going to die. At a minimum I figured that I was about to be robbed, or have my car hijacked.
The last thing that I was expecting was for this group of young men to run into the intersection and, without a word, push the woman's car several hundred yards to a strip mall parking lot. Before the woman could roll down her window to thank them, they were gone.
As I watched the group's retreat, I couldn't help but think of something I saw during a hike in New Zealand several years ago.
There is a certain breed of wildflower that grows in volcanic ash. Where little else can survive, these flowers flourish.