The Wolf Pack

We come back from the library, and sit across the street, on the grass next to the parking lot. You see, we don’t feel that comfortable mixing in the usual bullshit that occurs amidst the crowd on the sidewalk next to the ARCH. We are waiting for the “preacher” lady to show up who is there every Monday and Tuesday evening along with one of several groups of volunteers, to feed the homeless. Every so often we notice a police squad car passing by, slowly, checking things out. Eventually more from the crowd across the street at the ARCH come and sit down beside us. Nothing really happening, just sitting, waiting for dinner. A squad car pulls by, and then turns into the parking lot. We all take it as a message to get up, stand up, and move. We don’t want to be accused of anything inordinate. As we get up we look behind us. There, not 20 feet away, three bicycle cops, standing … watching us. No one saw them show up, but they are there. The squad car pulls up next to them. Mary and I take a walk up the hill, just to get a little distance away. We stand under a tree and observe, just out of the way enough and hidden by some SUVs and cars. The “preacher” shows up and sets up her tables. We make our way back across the street, being careful to cross at the corner; we don’t want to be sited for J-walking. We get in line with about 150 others, maybe more. The preacher is playing her worship music on a portable amplifier, then makes an announcement that we are waiting for the dessert to show up. Volunteers are unloading food and preparing to serve the nights meal. Across the street the police are waiting, watching, eyeing the crowd. They seem to be looking for something. Occasionally a few of them confer and one heads on to confront someone. … Nothing … this time … they run a man’s ID … nothing. A wolf pack … I feel so secure … Welcome to America … Land of the “Free”.




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