Why Was He Kneeling At My Front Door, Hands Raised?
It was 4:55 a.m. when the door bell rang. Who could it be at this hour? I looked out and saw him – crying, shivering in 20 degree cold, he waited. And when I opened the inner door he backed away, raised his hands in the air, and kneeled down. To tell me he was lost and needed directions. That he approached my home because the living room light was on and the computer screen, with me at it, visible. Kneeling, like a soldier surrendering to their captors. Growing up in the era of Ozzie and Harriet, Leave it to Beaver, and My Three Sons, this was not the image of how someone sought help. The goofy or errant teenager could still turn to a neighbor, not fearing violence but perhaps expecting a stern headshake, and then having an arm put around his shoulders and taken to the kitchen for a warm drink, some fatherly advice, and a ride home. That is what my son could expect, even decades later. A neighbor – even a …








