St. Patrick's Day

SAINT PATRICK'S DAY STORY

It was exactly on a Friday on St. Patrick's Day, March 17, when one event eventually put three strangers and three races into one juvenile courtroom in Los Angeles, apparently to intervene in the life of a very young man who was going down in the wrong path in life.

I was 17 and had just gotten off work from the Farmers building riding the Wilshire bus. I had thought of going to the mall that night.

I was riding the bus. It was very crowded and I was standing along with many others. An old small white lady, about 80 years old was sitting on the aisle seat in front of me.

I was minding my own business, when suddenly I saw a hand silently and slowly creeping into the handbag of the old lady in front of me.

Suddenly I turned to the teenager standing next to me and said "What are you doing? What in the name of God are you doing?" I remember these words because it was the same exact words I said to the lady judge when I was called to testify in court.

After I said I do in front of the bible that I will swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, the judge asked me to recall that day and tell her and everyone in the courtroom what happened. So I told her and everyone in the courtroom.

There was probably around 10 to 15 people in the courtroom that day. The old lady was there, the young teenage boy was there, and so were his parents. And I was there by myself, having ridden myself to the downtown courthouse in my usual fashion, by bus. The bailiff was there, and the court recorder, and the juvenile court judge.

I don't know who else was there, probably, some of relations of the old lady or the defendant teenage boy, or maybe other people waiting for their case.

Then I think the judge also asked me why did I stop the young man. And I said something like "because what he was doing was wrong and he should not do that."

After some testimonies were heard, the judge then excused me and probably the old lady also. The judge shook my hands and so did the old lady. And the black parents of the teenager also shook hands with me as the mother thank me for telling her about her son and told me that she was now going to take good care of his son so he won't go down the wrong way.

That was so many, many years ago, and I'm sure the mother has taken good care of his son so he will not end up on the wrong side of the law. And I'm sure the teenage boy, who was probably the same age as I was then or younger, was probably saved from going down the wrong path.

I would think so, because when I looked at his face inside the bus, I saw in him that he knew that what he was doing was wrong and he felt he was sorry. I believed that he was sorry because I mentioned God to him and he knew God did not approved of what he was doing.

I don't know why three strangers have suddenly come face to face in the courtroom that day. I have no need to save my life that day and I don't think neither did the old lady. I think it was to save the life of the teenage boy from going down the wrong road in life.

In hindsight, would have I done the same thing nowadays, or even back then? I do not know. Because you can never tell under what circumstances you may suddenly find yourself that suddenly the spirit of a hero, a fool, a coward, or a bystander suddenly takes over your very existence.

All I can say is a hero will always be a hero, a fool always a fool, and a coward always a coward, in varying degrees, all their lives.

C'est la vie!

John Sindayen