Jail Break
In our town there is a peaceful neighborhood with large trees overhanging the streets, lazy front porches, and historic markers in front of many homes, labelling them for who originally owned them and when they were built, most over 100 years ago. On one end of the neighborhood stands the courthouse, City Hall, and the jail. Unfortunately, the yard for the jail is across the road from the jail itself, so when it is time to take the prisoners outdoors for their daily exercise, they must be taken across the street. Occasionally a prisoner gets away and must be chased down by an officer. The prisoners wear bright orange and white striped outfits, making them very easy to spot. The brilliant escapee, as a result, will often strip down to his underwear, so as to hopefully be less noticable as he hops the fences and darts through the alleyways of the nearby neighborhood.
Mr. P., a 40-something man who stands about 5′10″ was sitting in his backyard swing, enjoying the peace and quiet, sipping his coffee and having a glorious time reading his Bible and praying. The tranquility of the moment was broken when a nearly-naked man popped over the fence into his backyard! The two saw each other, and the man leapt back over the fence and ran down the alley.
Mr. P., realizing this was a prison escapee, did what any reasonable man would do–grabbed a shovel and headed out to the alley! He saw the man headed one way, and an officer coming up another way looking for him. “Over here!!” Mr. P. shouted to the officer.
Mr. P. and the officer managed to get on either side of the scantily clad escapee. The prison-breakee looked at the large officer with a gun and then at Mr. P. with his shovel and made the understandable decision to run toward Mr. P. “Hit him!!” yelled the officer. Mr. P. raised his shovel like a bat, cocked it back, and struck the man as he ran by. The man fell to the ground, and the officer grabbed and handcuffed him and took him back to the jail.
And the whole thing became a sermon illustration to our congregation, as Mr. P. is our beloved pastor. (And this really is a true story, although some of the details may not be entirely accurate, as my memory became foggy as I tried not to laugh too loudly in church!)
February 1st, 2006 at 7:37 pm
I love it! why wuld you try not to laugh too loudly in church if he was telling something funny? A few weeks ago, the Reverend (as I call him on the blog, my hubby) told a story that, well, had we all been sitting around drinking coffe and visiting would have caused great splatter through pressed lips and maybe even a few nose runs (if you get my drift.) the town we used to live in had some neighborhoods like the one you descrided. I always wanted to live in one of those neighborhoods. Old southern homes with huge trees are absolutely my favorite!
February 1st, 2006 at 7:41 pm
I agree with your friend–you live in a great town and a great neighborhood. It’s certainly different from big city neighborhoods. You’re creating lots of good memories, which you will appreciate more as time goes by.
February 1st, 2006 at 9:27 pm
SL–I guess I wasn’t so much trying to keep quiet as trying to keep from making a scene!
Mom, we are in a great town and n’hood, although the story is not about my own neighborhood….
February 2nd, 2006 at 4:49 am
That’s a great story. I love hearing about ordinary people stepping up to make a difference.
Hitting a nearly-nakey prison escapee with a shovel is never one of those things you think you will do on any given day.