It hurts for me to say this; with deep sorrow, I must report that some of these jobless men on the street have succumbed to the devil and will ultimately end up in hell. Stop and think about that for a minute at least.
Probably fifty percent of the men I met recently are earnest and honest men. Many of them are young. Then there are the scoundrels, drunks, and druggies who can hardly stay awake, lost in the netherworld of drug addiction.
When I first arrived in the evening, some of the men were drinking, drunk, or passed out on the cement landing under the huge awning running along the front of the old abandoned building facing the little side street. This is where they congregate beginning at six in the morning, hoping to get work – sometimes in the rain. Poor souls.
After trying to get a couple of films made with no success, I’m now trying to sell my book about my exploits in the world of has-beens, losers, and the lost.
Someone once said (I think it was Shakespeare), “The whole world is a stage in which we are the actors.” I think he had something there.
Do you remember going to the movies when you were a kid? After the double feature, you couldn’t help but believe you were the Lone Ranger or Tonto as you galloped out of the theater on your pony. (Maybe Goldilocks if you were Rachel Levine.)
This was just like a movie – a comedic one (If it was so serious.)
Cast of CHARACTERS.
SOLO – as in “Hans Solo”– which in Spanish means (alone and single) is a big black dude from Connecticut who sports a gold stud on his tongue, a ring in his ear, black fingernail polish, and a grin on his face. On his belt, he carries a shiv about eight inches with a razor-sharp edge – along with a serrated edge running along the top. The man looks like he’d be happy to stick that big hunting knife right in your gullet, no questions asked, as he would say.
Looking me straight in the eye – not six inches from my face – I could smell alcohol on his breath. I asked what the getup was all about, and he replied, “I’m a Goth- mannnn. I’m also a phy…los….ipher and psychic – Hic….”
I’m surprised the cops haven’t picked him up, as well as some others in that motley crew. But God sent me to share the Good News of the Gospel of Jesus Christ with these men. So, what could I do? I’d been doing this sort of thing for most of my life since receiving Christ myself, and I know the power of doing so.
“God loves you, man,” I replied. “Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father but by Him!”
Lolo, his sidekick, was listening intently. The smaller man was bilingual and very adroit with words, both English and Spanish. I told him of my plans to hold a mini crusade for all these men in the empty lot across the street and needed an interpreter, at which he began to quote scripture.
Shazam! I thought. But when I saw him the following morning, he was drunk. No dice; I can’t have a drunk be my interpreter!
On the third day, Caroline and I went out to get a few vittles and had to pass by that place. She was driving her car. With much trepidation, I asked if she could go by slowly so I could see if anyone was loitering around there, as it was already mid-afternoon. She slowed down but remained silent, and I ventured to ask her to take a photo of me with the guys with my cell phone, to which she demurred, not saying a thing! Good! I was so afraid she’d refuse, stop the car, and kick me out. But she knows how crazy bold I am when it comes to sharing the Gospel. She even drove up in front of the abandoned storefront, but not before she locked all the car doors.
Only a couple of stragglers were milling about.
I handed Caroline my phone for her to take a picture of the guys as proof for my readers that I wasn’t lying and to possibly post on YouTube or (my potential new platform) and on Google as well, for which I just entered a resume.
She stopped the car, and I got out. “Lolo, where are you?”
Lolo stepped out of the shadows where he had been sitting on his haunches. “Jim, is that you?” he said with a big smile on his face. He was sober today, had combed his hair, and looked a lot better than before.
As I went to where he was, Lolo asked, “Hey man, you want some food?” pointing to a box of food he had gotten from the food bank.
“I’m good Lolo, but thanks anyway,”
“Don’t have no way to cook it.”
The box contained packaged raw meat and a few vegetables. “Where’s Solo?” I asked.
“He’s over here on the side of the building.” And he led the way.
There was Solo. When he saw me, he asked, “Hey man, what is it?” and high-fived me.
“I came to take a picture of you two guys with my cell phone,” at which Solo put on a clean shirt hurriedly over his five-day-old one.
While Solo got all gussied up, I asked Lolo why he wasn’t drunk today, and his answer was, “I went to church last night and did some soul searching and praying – thanks to you.”
Together, we three amigos went to the open passenger side window of the car, and I asked Caroline to take a photo of us together. Solo asked, “Why don’t she get out of the car for a better shot?”
“She’s afraid of you guys,” and then looking at one another knowingly, they laughed along with me, and we posed with arms around each other. Me in the middle.
On the way home after buying vittles, I said to Caroline, “Those poor guys probably haven’t had their photos taken in years.
She said, “I don’t know about that. Do mugshots count?
I laughed my fool head off.
YBIC
Jim Towers
***
You can write me at jt.filmmaker@yahoo.com or visit me atwww.dropzonedelta.com My book Visions, Miracles, Peace, and Power can be ordered on Amazon Books and Kindle. You can also find me on my newly restructured website www.propheticsignsandwonders.com, which now features videos of worldwide events taking place in present time, as well as proof of God’s existence and the reality of Biblical places, and Moses himself.
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