Freddie Gray Inspired

      Freddie Gray another young black man died in police custody.  It was in these United States of America in Baltimore, Maryland.  I mourn his death.

     One individual on a popular social media site offered the thought that even though the man may have been a low life, he didn’t need to be killed.

     Reading the label ‘low life’ – painful . . . (tears now).  Oh my.   How could one call another person such?

 Beware of the fittest who survive and don’t hesitate to tell you who you are.  Think.

      I’m reminded of the corporate executive driving, meandering through Manhattan heading to the Harlem River Drive to cross into New Jersey via the George Washington Bridge.  She didn’t rush, was too tired, and too stressed to rush. 

     It was late, now dark.  But, she wasn’t scared, felt safe even as the tall, unkempt derelict-like man approached with his squeegee, one of the entrepreneurial window washers of the time.  She sat there behind the wheel, her flashy white, late model Buick, stopped by the red traffic light.  

     He started to swipe her windshield with the filthy tool.  Rather than raise the car window, which sometimes sent them to another car, she had started talking, complaining about her day. 

       She was experimenting, seeking to involve him in the world of at least one of the drivers he accosted so easily.  He might not realize how unfair he was to hard working folk trying to bring a tough day to a close.

        So she shared.  “It’s not easy being Black, is it?  I've had a long day, unfair bosses, must smile no matter what.  It’s awful. I shouldn’t go back.  I could make money doing what you do.”

       The squeegee man abruptly backed away from the car, looked at her and ordered her to stop that talk.  “Go home, come back tomorrow. You have to do it for us who can’t.”   

       The light changed. She handed him a dollar bill.  He waved it off.  “You keep your money and come back tomorrow.  Don’t Give Up!”  His emphatic words followed her as she made it through the intersection.

       This day, years later, her squeegee man came to mind as the words, “low-life” ascribed to Freddie Gray, now dead, jumped off the screen.  That was how the street people who tried to wash car windows at busy corners were described.  She had met  one who was thoughtful and capable of being helpful.

        There are human beings in every community who need something they do not have.   Yet they have something to offer.

         I have forever remembered and value my experience with the squeegee man.