Street preachers
This entry was originally posted on 2 December 2001 at 12:10 p.m.
Interesting day yesterday. My day off. Went to see Harry Potter again (just as good the second time around!), but all sorts of strange things happened before and after the movie.
I had gotten off the train at Charles/MGH to take a few photos of the Charles Street Prison, which, i'm sad to say, is being demolished. After that, i wandered through Beacon Hill and down to Park Street Station, where i intended to catch the train to the Hynes/ICA stop, so i could wander up Newbury Street (lots of interesting shops there--including the Trident bookstore). But before i got into the station, i noticed a man lecturing in the plaza. There was something unusual about him. Not about him lecturing; there must be a hundred street preachers in Boston and Cambridge. After watching him a few minutes, i realized what was so strange was that he seemed completely aware of his surroundings, of his audience, and of the fact that there were several police officers off to one side. Many street preachers don't notice these things; they tend to be the ones who are a bit delusional or psychotic. This guy seemed pretty together, though. So i decided to wait and see whether the police hassled him at all.
After he finished speaking, we chatted for a few minutes. No, the police never bothered him. He had an advanced degree in Theology. He wasn't sure whether he enjoyed doing his work--apparently, i was the first person who had ever asked him. He asked me a few questions about my own beliefs, and then we shook hands and parted ways. It was a little surreal--especially since i had been thinking a lot about The Novel i'm trying to write (in my nonexistent spare time), and this seemed to give me another facet to add to it. I'll talk about The Novel some other time, however, when i can explain everything without boring you to death.
I went off and did my thing, made my way up Newbury Street, and eventually found a local theater that was still showing Harry Potter (there was only one, surprisingly). After the film, i walked back toward Park Street Station, and happened upon a conflict in the plaza. Eventually the conflict escalated to a full-blown fight, which was broken up by the arrival of an unseemly number of Boston Police. I stuck around for a while, wondering whether i'd be questioned, but i wasn't. So i talked to one of the people who was involved in the conflict. Turns out he was a former member of the Crips and had just finished nine years in federal prison. He had turned his life around, had his wife and three kids with him, and was doing his best to stay out of trouble. I'm usually a skeptic about human nature, but there was something about the way this guy explained his former life to me that sounded plain and truthful. He had given up a life of robbery and drugs, making $4500 a week, to take care of his kids. What turned him around? He had been shot in the head. For all that i generally doubt people's sincerity, i couldn't help but believe him. Why? Because he wasn't repentant, he wasn't guilty. He was sort of proud of his old life, but just as proud of his new one. And that, in my mind, is a reflection of the honesty of street culture.
The irony of this entire episode was that it happened about 100 feet away from where the 'preacher' had been lecturing that afternoon.
Interesting day yesterday. My day off. Went to see Harry Potter again (just as good the second time around!), but all sorts of strange things happened before and after the movie.
I had gotten off the train at Charles/MGH to take a few photos of the Charles Street Prison, which, i'm sad to say, is being demolished. After that, i wandered through Beacon Hill and down to Park Street Station, where i intended to catch the train to the Hynes/ICA stop, so i could wander up Newbury Street (lots of interesting shops there--including the Trident bookstore). But before i got into the station, i noticed a man lecturing in the plaza. There was something unusual about him. Not about him lecturing; there must be a hundred street preachers in Boston and Cambridge. After watching him a few minutes, i realized what was so strange was that he seemed completely aware of his surroundings, of his audience, and of the fact that there were several police officers off to one side. Many street preachers don't notice these things; they tend to be the ones who are a bit delusional or psychotic. This guy seemed pretty together, though. So i decided to wait and see whether the police hassled him at all.
After he finished speaking, we chatted for a few minutes. No, the police never bothered him. He had an advanced degree in Theology. He wasn't sure whether he enjoyed doing his work--apparently, i was the first person who had ever asked him. He asked me a few questions about my own beliefs, and then we shook hands and parted ways. It was a little surreal--especially since i had been thinking a lot about The Novel i'm trying to write (in my nonexistent spare time), and this seemed to give me another facet to add to it. I'll talk about The Novel some other time, however, when i can explain everything without boring you to death.
I went off and did my thing, made my way up Newbury Street, and eventually found a local theater that was still showing Harry Potter (there was only one, surprisingly). After the film, i walked back toward Park Street Station, and happened upon a conflict in the plaza. Eventually the conflict escalated to a full-blown fight, which was broken up by the arrival of an unseemly number of Boston Police. I stuck around for a while, wondering whether i'd be questioned, but i wasn't. So i talked to one of the people who was involved in the conflict. Turns out he was a former member of the Crips and had just finished nine years in federal prison. He had turned his life around, had his wife and three kids with him, and was doing his best to stay out of trouble. I'm usually a skeptic about human nature, but there was something about the way this guy explained his former life to me that sounded plain and truthful. He had given up a life of robbery and drugs, making $4500 a week, to take care of his kids. What turned him around? He had been shot in the head. For all that i generally doubt people's sincerity, i couldn't help but believe him. Why? Because he wasn't repentant, he wasn't guilty. He was sort of proud of his old life, but just as proud of his new one. And that, in my mind, is a reflection of the honesty of street culture.
The irony of this entire episode was that it happened about 100 feet away from where the 'preacher' had been lecturing that afternoon.
posted by Circus at 3:58 PM
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