Angels
House
© 2007 by Tony Hearn
Chapter One
(Author's Note: The reason I publish what
I write only on the Internet is the ease with which I can change it. It is quite
obvious I am a very fallible person. I make mistakes – typographical and
otherwise. Doing them in cyberspace can be quickly remedied. The effects of my
shortcomings can be erased swiftly and without great stress, cries of anguish,
etc., etc. Hence, anyone encountering errors in my skills or judgment may take
me to task, please, by sending me an email telling me of my failings. I will
make appropriate amends.)
Coming home from my job as a copyeditor at the San
Antonio newspaper (that was before the News and the Express merged into the
Express-News upon the acquisition of the two newspapers by the notorious media
publisher, Rupert Murdock), I was in a foul mood. Normally, at the time, I was
a fairly cheerful person. I don't recall now what had caused me then to be in
an unpleasant disposition. Maybe I was just tired from having spent the
previous eight hours trapped in the smoke-filled space occupied by a bunch of
chain-smoking newspaper people. I was ready to shower and fall into my bed in
my apartment in the Casino Club building on the River Walk in downtown San
Antonio.
Entrance to the
Casino Club
Building
As I got out my key to unlock the front door of the
building, a man of about 60 years of age approached me.
"Do you have any loose change?" the man
muttered, "so I can buy something to eat!"
"No, I don't!" I answered, with a certain
impatience coloring the tone of my voice.
I could have just responded politely, "No! I'm sorry!" But I
didn't. I was expressing disdain I customarily felt when I was approached by
anyone begging for money not infrequently at that moment in time. San Antonio
had become a destination for persons out of work in the nation's economic
recession, the Carter Recession, in late 1981. I was aware I did have a lone
$20 bill in my wallet, nothing less.
Turning back to unlock the door, I heard another
voice.
"I apologize!" A younger man spoke to me
from the darkness. It was about two o'clock in the wee hours of the morning. At
the time, the mighty presses of the newspaper had just begun to roll out the
bulldog edition of the coming day's paper. I was eager to get some sleep. I had
done my thing to contribute to the important process of edifying the general
public of what was occurring within San Antonio and around the globe.
I turned back to see a man of about 30 stepping from
the black night. He was neat but dressed shabbily. I recall he had rather long,
blond hair, and I believe he had blue eyes. They sparkled in the light coming
from the interior entry of the Casino Club building. My impatience disappeared
immediately. I was stunned.
"He only was requesting a little help. I'm
sorry. This is my father. I apologize for him!" the younger man said.
"We're out of work and we're new in the area!" His manner was as
gentle as mine had been haughty.
"I am the one who needs to apologize," I
uttered, drastically changing my tone.
I reached for my wallet and took out the $20 bill.
"Here's what I have. You're welcome to it. There's a place around the
corner that opens around dawn. And good luck!"
The younger man said, "Thank you!" He
didn't say, "Thanks!" I recall him saying distinctly and with
complete gentleness, "Thank you!" I can, to this very day, still hear
his voice. It is imprinted indelibly in my memory.
I opened the door, entered, and took the elevator to
my floor and my apartment. After showering, I got in bed. I was still thinking
of the younger man's voice, his "Thank you!"
As I lay in my bed, I reflected upon what had
occurred at the outside door of the Casino Club building. The more I thought,
the more I was chagrined about my behavior. I reflected upon the contrast
between my inward attitude and the apparent spirit of the younger man. Though I
had eaten recently and well, I was inwardly annoyed by a vague hunger. Though
he said he and his father had not eaten recently, he seemed to be sustained by
an inner strength.
As I recall, though it was a quarter century in the
past, I heard what was, apparently, an interior voice.
"You will not speak again to another person as
you did to that older man!" the voice said sternly.
"You will help anyone who asks for your
help!" said the voice. "Or you will find yourself standing in a
breadline!"
I fell asleep.
Casino Club
Building
San Antonio's River
Walk