The Walk...

I was on my daily (OK--sheer honesty here. ALMOST daily) walk for a mile through my neighborhood. Della and I were at a brisk pace when activity at an alcohol-serving establishment caught our attention. A middle-aged man staggered to his car, obviously very incapacitated. A woman called from the doorway, "You aren't going to try to drive, are you?" After a try or two to pick up papers, he completely lost his balance and fell to the ground, all the while insisting on his capacity to handle himself.

We stood and stared for a few moments, hoping by our notice to urge some heavy duty intervention. Eventually a couple of fellow customers/servers stood by his vehicles and tried to get his car keys. We completed that leg of our walk, and the drama was still ongoing. I was relieved in the morning to see his vehicle was still there.

I can't quit thinking about that, though. Why did they keep serving him? Why did no one refuse to be a part of his foolish journey? Why did anyone enable him to go so far down the trail of destruction that tragedy was the next logical step?

Because of my personal choice for absolute abstinence, I rarely am a spectator to unwise decisions in alcohol consumption. But I see many other people making relational/financial/spiritual decisions that are just as debilitating, just as certain to end up in heartbreak---and no one intervenes until tragedy is the next step, if then. Why?

I think it's because of deep-seated cowardice or apathy--refusal to risk someone's anger or our inconvenience. I think that when it comes right down to it, many of us really prefer to tell ourselves we have no responsibility, pretending it is love and wise to "mind our own business."

There's a psychological word for that argument. Here it is: BALONEY.

Just sayin'.