coping

Into every life some rain must fall.
But none of us ask for a flood or an avalanche.
Unfortunately some among us desire to fight the world with fisticuffs and be bullies.
I've tried to temper a man's temper but to no avail this time.
I'm not running from him. I'm avoiding him.
He's mad at me for decamping.
But two Fayetteville police rudely awakened us at 1:30 a.m. Wednesday.
They lectured us on the precepts that we were on private property and had no right to be there.
The police lady told the bully she knew about him beating up an unfortunate American Indian.
That's my theory about who squealed on our whereabouts.
But the tough get tougher.
We must battle the elements and sometimes the tempestuous taunts of tormentors.
One night the man in question claims he's never had a failure to appear.
But his bully buddy talked him into weaseling out and not going to court Wednesday.
That's another reason I've abandoned my tent.
He said, "They'll have to catch me on the streets."
I pray for him in one way, but hope in another he gets what's coming to him.
But I'm not a narc. I won't go running for help from the police.
That's not my style.
At first the beaten man denied he told the police anything. But I've been informed he did tell them who beat him up and where they could find him.
They did not charge my campmate with any charges which surprises me.
The puzzling aspect of this whole shebang is that this guy ended up in the ICU because of his thug so-called friend. And now they're bosom buddies. I heard from a Razorback Transit driver that he banned one of them from riding his bus. Now he knows the rest of the story, too.
Sometimes venting one's rage soothes the emotions.
There's no real cathartic effect though.
I now see why homeless individuals don't trust others. They've been abused or misused or seen violence when it was uncalled for.
I just hope to retrieve my stuff and move on. I have a friend who's offered to help me relocate. I think he and I see eye to eye and respect each other.
He told me once in the library he admires me and my intellect.
Likewise, a sports writer friend of mine told John Phillips, one of the usher supervisors, that I had the highest IQ of any of the ushers.
That's very comforting to know.
I also was blessed when Curt Yates, usher supervisor, asked me if I wanted to usher the Lady Razorbacks game Wednesday night. There were only 12 of us and that gave me an inner boost of confidence that I had been one of the select few.
I'm still very humble though.
When and if I have time and a laptop I plan on writing a book entitled, "Another Day in Paradise."
I would appreciate some comments, though.
Or an e-mail to davidlanier1951@gmail.com.
I need support in this tremulous crisis.