LISTEN TO JIM: http://jimreedbooks.com/mp3/barneyfifebecomeswyattearp.mp3
OR READ ON…
The behatted security guard stands stolid at his post, at full attention, totally focused on mission. He is there at the corner each morning for all passersby to ponder.
In his hand is a Starbucks product, something to hold on to besides his weapon, which is neatly side-strapped and loaded for action. His dark eyeglasses perfectly match the starched and pressed khaki uniform and perfectly perched Smoky Bear hat.
He is one notch braver than Sheriff Andy, one degree below freewheeling Dirty Harry, firmly entrenched in his stoic protector image, embedded in his role as Defender of the Bank.
The Writer who passes by each day is like most folks in his reaction to the officer.
Seeing him each day, perception changes in an orderly fashion.
Here’s the order.
1. At first, he looks silly and out of place. In a neighborhood known for its eclectic populace—tattoo parlor right across the street, walls and alleys of graffiti everywhere, a beautiful and poetic water fountain nearby hosting panhandlers and the homeless as well as smiling tourists and over-the-mountaineers who are here to eat high and then maybe get high later, bored teenagers looking for what they wish they knew they were looking for, intellectual occupiers, new-age dreamers, clueless pedestrians, fearful drive-bys on their way someplace else, worldly shop-owners, vacuous police officers, bright and alert CAP officers, city workers…they are all intermingling and drifting past this neatly pressed officer of the law.
2. As you see him each day, each week, each month, he begins to look different. His belt-overhanging gut begins to seem appropriate to his loyalty to the corner, his hat is suddenly perceived as just the right hat with the just the right tilt, just the right fit, just the right symbol of dormant authority. His coffee cup is a compromise between doughnuts and diner hangout, his uniform looks like it belongs there, his demeanor again rises just above Andy, but now just below a modern-day Wyatt Earp.
3. After a while, this corner-protector becomes a symbol of stability and gentility, a throwback to the weaving chaos of Five Points South. The protector may be a mere bank employee whose job is to symbolize safety and dependability, but his presence is now morphed and iconic, what we expect to see every day, a touchstone of reality in a Jello based world.
We could use a few more street-based protectors around the rampant city—you know, officers who actually walk the beat, merchants who dare to step outside their shops, blinking at the sun and showing us they are part of the ‘hood, elected city officials who actually dare to spend their wages inside the city instead of escaping to the shoppingmall ‘burbs each night.
I’m present here in the city, so is the protector, so are the people both enfranchised and disenfranchised. We want you to brave the city streets, too—and get to know these passing spirits as real and necessary beings.
Y’all give it a try, you hear
(c) 2012 A.D. by Jim Reed