That Philip-in' Curb

Brighton Ave and Jefferson Ave

Philip had been making his way home late one night when something went wrong. The rear driving wheels of his motorized wheelchair wedged themselves in the cracked concrete curb near the intersection of Brighton and Jefferson. He had tried all he could think of to free himself but when his efforts failed he called out for help.

Having only moved into the Brighton house for maybe 2 months now, we were still familiarizing ourselves with the area. It was pretty late on this weekday night when I heard someone calling out from outside the house. I know he was calling “help”, but for the first few minutes I convinced myself that he was actually calling to another person, or that someone else would notice him and help him out, and that basically it wasn’t my problem. The fear of going out around the alley pressed on me for a good five minutes before I was able to realize I needed to help this person, so my housemate and I went too see what was going on. The distant streetlamps allowed us to see only Philip’s silhouette. As we approached him warily we could immediately hear the elation in his voice.

When I saw what had happened I scolded myself for not coming out sooner. Philip was stuck with just the rear of the wheelchair on the curb and most of his body exposed into the alleyway that cars frequently burn through to skirt the Normandie-Jefferson light. We quickly heaved him off the curb as he began to tell us what had happened, how he was just on his way home when the broken concrete caught his wheels, and when he was calling out he knew God would send someone to help him. He graciously kissed our hands as our other housemates came out to meet him and pray for him. He decided to resume his journey home on the street rather than the sidewalk. How wrong is it that to avoid the hazards of our sidewalks, Philip would prefer to expose himself to the dangers on the road?