A Rare Night

Walking through Central Park for a quick stroll at 7:00, one of the nicest nights of 2013, temperature in the mid-70’s and dry, we came upon a couple. The man in distress. He’s on the ground in terrible pain. The wife, calm, standing next to a wheely bag piece of luggage, is talking to her husband—about getting an ambulance.

So, we call 911 and the ambulance came. It was tricky to get them down to the path we were on, below the road. It took a few random strangers. Question: Why don’t they use my cell phone, once I call in, as a homing device?

It all worked out. Interesting how many people were willing to stop and offer aid.

The man was on his way to detox. The wife admitted he was intoxicated and was taking blood pressure medication which can also be a problem. She told her husband how they were just getting to the place, sooner. The man, barely able to talk, said only one thing. “We can’t afford an ambulance.”  I asked if they had insurance. She said he didn’t.

And I am thinking—sure, let people shop around for health care. What better time to go shopping for one of life’s essentials than when you are detoxing, publicly.

It was enlivening to be involved with a net of people that cared about a man, down on the pavement. He was surely saved. It felt like he would live.

People want to help other people live. Good for us. It was this very thing that formed so much that is good for us.

So what I am really trying to say is: Socialism. For the downed man. Be Libertarian everywhere else if that’s what it costs to be a Socialist here.