Six Six

About two years ago my cousin Bill came to Cleveland to visit some friends, and my family. Bill got us tickets to an Indians game at the "Jake," Jacob's Field as it was known then. I am not much of a sports fan, so I wound up talking during most of the game. Bill, always being the gentleman that he is and a good host, tolerated my jabbering well.

After the game, we decided that we would hit a bar near the stadium for a beer or two. As we were making our way down the street, someone shouted, "Hey, Six Six! Hey, Six Six!" It was a very tall black man. He was making his way over two us. Instead of running for our lives, as white people often do when encountering a person of color on the mean streets of America, we waited. The gentleman walk up and said to my cousin, "How tall are you?"

Bill replied, "Six foot six."

"That's what I thought man! I am six six too!" He started talking about his life, and how he was having a hard time. He said he was a Vietnam veteran and lost his leg there. Then he pulled up his right pant leg, to reveal a prostetic limb. It really didn't matter if he lost it in Vietnam. His leg was gone.

Then the man asked if he could have a few dollars for some beer.

I said, "Hey, why don't you come drinking with us? We are going over to that bar with the big parrot on the front."

Six Six looked at us and asked, "Are you serious?"

"Yep, let's go."

So Six Six, Bill, and me the dwarf walked over to the bar. Six Six had to leave his back pack outside with the valet parking kid. Once inside, we walked up to the bar with people looking at us oddly. Bill ordered three beers. Six six said, "Thanks a lot you guys. This sure tastes good." Even though Six Six was enjoying his beer, he was nervous. His eyes kept darting around looking at the people looking at him.

Within a few minutes the area around the bar, which was crowded when we walked in began to open up. People were moving away from us. Then I realized why. Not only did Six Six look homeless, he smelled homeless too. Now I felt bad for putting Six Six in this situation.

Bill and I asked Six Six about his life, and he asked about ours. We talked and had another beer. People were still staring and making comments amongst themselves. By the time we had finished our second beer, we were close to the entrance of the bar. It was obvious Six Six wanted to get the hell out of there.

We shook hands, and embraced, wishing eachother well. We gave Six Six twenty bucks for more beer, or food. We followed Six Six outside. He picked up his backpack and walked into the night.

Bill and I left then too, talking about the small adventure we just had.

People often say, "There but for the grace of God, go you and I." It makes me wonder about God's grace, and if it really exists. Being poor, homeless, missing one leg is a hell of a way to go through life. Unless of course it isn't God's grace at all at work. It is God sending Six Six our way to show us how unfortunate life is for many people, to teach us empathy. Did we do well? I am not sure. We put a man in an uncomfortable situation on a whim, and with some attitude of sticking it too a bunch of kids with too much money. We knew people would react in some way. Unless that was the plan all along. Six Six deputized us as God's angels to take a message to some people.

Maybe.

I do know that the face of God that night stood was a man who stood six feet six inches tall, with a prostetic leg, black and homeless.