I know what you're thinking. That crazy Nakedjen is going to ramble on and on and on again about Buddha and Stella. You're thinking, "Enough with the dogs, already, Nakedjen! Please just write about ANYTHING else!"
Well, this isn't about the dogs. They're doing quite well, by the way, thank you for asking.
Yesterday morning I took Buddha and Stella to It's Beach for their daily romp in the surf. (Wait a minute, Nakedjen. You said this wasn't a post about the dogs! And yet you're already telling me that you took the dogs to the beach! Patience, dear Internet, patience.) It was a very clear and sunny and warm Sunday and so naturally the beach was a tad more crowded than usual. One of the guys that regularly comes to the beach and the dog park happens to be a substitute teacher who has a small dog named Chrissy. This is all I really know about him. I mean I see him nearly every day, but I don't engage in conversations with him. I smile at him when we pass one another on the path, or at the beach, but I don't even know his name. I also know that he does have a girlfriend.
Many months ago, when I first started taking the dogs to the dog park and the beach, on a Sunday, in fact, this guy seemed to have a psychotic break. Or perhaps he didn't take all the medication that he should be taking on daily basis. Or maybe he just had a REALLY GOOD Saturday night and whatever his drugs of choice had been had not fully worn off. I honestly don't know, but he roamed the dog park talking VERY LOUDLY and making all kinds of Whoops and Hollers and, yes, frightening more than a few people. Not in a sinister kind of way, but more in a "What's wrong with him?" kind of way.
On that day, according to my friend Mike, who is a regular at the dog park, he threatened Mike's life. Mike says that this guy came up to him and said, "You better watch out, when your back is turned I'm going to get you!" None of the rest of us saw this happen or heard it happen, but Mike insists that it did happen. So okay, it happened. And Mike has not forgotten it.
So yesterday we're all at the beach. Enjoying the beautiful day. And, well hell, I'll just call him CrazyMan, arrives with his dog, Chrissy. Mike turns to me and says, "I'm going to a different part of the beach, I don't trust that guy!" I say, "Okay, whatever."
Well, the CrazyMan starts acting Crazy. He's walking down the beach and every once in a while he starts waving his arms around and screaming BITCH at his dog. Over and over again. BITCH! BITCH! BITCH! Eventually, another man who is not a regular at the beach asks CrazyMan to please refrain from screaming BITCH in front of his mother and daughter. Only he says, no joke, "Listen, Motherfucker, stop fucking saying BITCH in front of my mother and daughter!" I kid you not. I was standing right there. That's exactly what he said.
CrazyMan actually takes offense at the offensive language used by this other man and says that he's yelling at his DOG, who is a BITCH, and that the beach is a public place and he can do whatever he wants.
Well at this point, about seven different people, including Mike, call the cops.
And that's when I got just a little bit sad.
I realized that all those years I spent on tour with the Grateful Dead have perhaps made me just a tad more tolerant of aberrant behavior than others. In the parking lot of Grateful Dead show, one of three things would have happened to CrazyMan:
1. His friends would have gathered around him, controlled him, talked him down and diffused the situation.
2. Those of us in the community (and he IS a member of the community, remember, he walks his dog in the park daily) with experience would have approached him in a non-confrontational manner, made sure that he was all right, talked him down, and gotten him the help that he needed.
3. Rock-Med would have checked in with him, assessed his vital conditions, made sure he was not a harm to himself or others, and gotten him the help that he needed.
The cops would not have been called unless (and this is a BIG UNLESS) he actually tried to do physical harm to someone.
But the thing is, we all know CrazyMan. Like I said, he's generally a peaceful man. We also know he is prone to these occasional episodes where he just "goes off" for whatever reason. And for these reasons, I keep wondering why all those folks had to let fear rule their hearts and felt this need to call the cops.
I talked with Mike about it this morning, since he was one of the ones who called the cops yesterday. And he basically told me I was one big naive person. That CrazyMan had threatened his life and he spends EVERY DAY looking over his back, worried that he's going to be "messed up" by CrazyMan. When I reminded Mike that CrazyMan said that to him when he was out of his mind and that he may not even remember it, Mike told me that I just don't know how it is.
But the thing is, I think I do know how it is. I don't think I'm THAT naive. I just refuse to live my life in fear. And I approach all situations with an open heart and from a place of love. I want to believe that generally people are good. Especially the ones that we already know and interact with on a daily basis.
I do understand that no one yesterday knew exactly what CrazyMan might do next. And they felt safer having the police come. The police did come and chatted with CrazyMan and then they left and CrazyMan continued his walk up and down the beach screaming BITCH at his dog. He didn't pose an immediate threat to himself or to others, so the police couldn't arrest him. He is free to scream BITCH on the beach if he wants to do so.
It's not that I'm looking for answers, really. It's just that I want to believe that we're a kinder and gentler society than we really are, I suppose.
If it were me, with Buddha and Stella, wandering up and down the beach screaming obscenities, I really hope that the people who know me at the dog park would come up and at least as me what was going on. That they'd care enough to say, "Nakedjen, is there something I can do to help?"
Which is exactly what I should have done for CrazyMan. I'm just as guilty for not doing at least that much as the folks are who called the police.
Next time, I will. I will ask him. He deserves at least that much courtesy. Every single one of us does.