For the Mentally Ill in Crisis, Someone Safe to Call for Help
A troubling encounter.
Although it happened over two months ago, I’m still haunted by the memory, particularly during this cold, harsh winter following on the heels of a politically tumultuous summer and fall.
I’ve run the same loop along the Willamette River in Portland, Oregon, for years. This particular morning, a young man walked some 20 feet ahead of me on the sidewalk. He carried by its neck a 1/2 gallon jug of apple juice. Unexpectedly, he tossed an opened box of granola bars, with several individually wrapped bars inside, to the ground and kept walking.
He stopped abruptly at the same time I stopped to wait on the curb for traffic to subside so I could cross to the other side of the street, which is what I routinely do on my route.
We were now six to eight feet apart. From my peripheral vision I noticed him turn and face me. Because we’re in the middle of a pandemic, I was wearing a mask; this and my proximity seemed to disturb him. I stepped away a few paces, giving him more space.
Over my shoulder he said, “You’re a bitch.” I ignored him. He stepped closer, and repeated more loudly, “You’re […]