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| Oneonta versus Providence: a story told in manned, locked doors. |
When I lived in rural upstate New York for school, in a old shared house that was dilapidated way back in the late 80s, the front door was always open. I took off my keys to give to a housemate for duplication in town and never got them back, or maybe I simply misplaced them one evening down at the "Black Oak Tavern", where my boyfriend worked the door. Because I was so young (and looked it), it was the only bar in town for me, which suited me fine. It greatly reduced the number of situations that needed handling with drunk kids, and everyone on campus knew I dated him.
He was proud to be a "strongman" when it suited him, often getting his way by being the biggest, strongest guy in the room; charms that wore off soon after the buzz from college faded. Violence is great for bar brawls; he'd worn an arm cast proudly back then to show that he could fight, but out in the real world (a place where there are tons of ex-football playing star quarterbacks from high school who are 6' tall), it doesn't really solve much. It didn't escape my attention on His Holiness' recent visit that he, too, had manned a door during his youth, as it is a common enough job for the working class man. My college beau did it during the summer, too, as a hatted doorman for rich people on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. It suited his chatty nervy personality, but tons of talking has never done much for me that I couldn't learn more efficiently elsewhere.
But, he didn't do his work for the vocation of it; he wanted money (and lots of it), with hints of violence to go with the suggestion that he could throw you out anytime he wanted to. He and I sorted through that early on in our relationship, because we had to. I grew up in a violent household that did not grow more peaceful with alcohol, because fighting and drinking go hand-in-hand. We got into one night after one too many, and he told me firmly that he did not believe in touching women, so I couldn't touch him, even if it was a small quick shove on the shoulder. I immediately agreed. We set ground rules that night for our relationship in our dorms empty staircase (me, at all of 17, and he was just 18), in a way that still eludes the old neighborhood drunks here in town, poorly navigating life every single day on their own; without medication, appropriate health care, or stints in rehab.
It seems so strange to us now, perhaps because we have moved so far from the family as a holy role model, but there was a time when I could walk into a house I shared with my college buddies without ever carrying a house key for that entire year at school, because the front door was always unlocked. Oh, we all had locks on our individual bedroom doors (mostly for privacy with our boyfriends, or for studying and sleeping), but we never once locked the door after that initial key exchange, because we had nothing to be afraid about it.
We'd occasionally find a drunk friend or two passed out on the large couches in the back living room after a party (all old houses had a front parlor that opened up into the main living room back then), but it stands out in stark contrast to the poor drunks around me now, with all the pain and hurt they cause daily, simply because they won't admit they need help, choosing instead to abuse the normal, happy, healthy people around them, for diseases they inherited from their own family.
Think about it this way: when was the last time you felt safe enough to keep your front door unlocked at night? When was the last time you didn't check all the windows in your home to make sure they were sealed tight? Who was to blame for your discomfort? I'll bet you know exactly who is unsafe around you (write a list of names), and so you have to ask yourself this: why do you protect them? And what from? The knowledge that they hurt? As easy as it seems to enable the problem people around us in the moment, it is always a poor tree that bears rotten fruit. If you know someone who is alcoholic and psychotic, the very best thing you can do for them is get them help today...no matter how violently they respond to your righteousness. Get help.
