Sarah Of The Moon (17 page)

Sarah had stopped her dance and was standing with her arms at her side. Her head tilted to the stars.

Alex saw her lips move. She said something to the sky, and he thought it was
thank you
.

“Your arm,” Sarah said as she sat next to him. She was already removing the top from the tube of ointment.

Alex pushed up his sleeve and dangled his arm in front of her. She squeezed a glob of the thick white substance into the palm of her hand.

“It looks like toothpaste, Are you sure you got the right stuff?” he asked.

“I’m sure. Now hold still, this might hurt a little.”

Alex pulled his arm back. “Earlier when you kissed it, it felt better. Why don’t you kiss it again?”

“Don’t be such a baby. Besides it’s too ugly to kiss now.”

“It is a mess,” Matt added, causing Celeste to giggle loudly.

Alex flinched as Sarah began to rub the viscous stuff into the bruise.

“Better ask to see her medical license, Alex.” Matt was studying the tube. “It says here to apply to baby’s bottoms to prevent rashes.”

Celeste’s giggles turned to laughter, and then Sarah and Matt joined in. When he could not hold it in any longer, Alex laughed too. For the longest time, the four of them were the happiest people on the hill.

STRANGE ENCOUNTERS

They arrived back at the house
to find the porch once again occupied by most of the houseguests.

“Is there a storm coming that we don’t know about?” Matt asked the group.

“Just hanging out,” Chick said from his perch on the swing. “It’s too nice of a night to be indoors.”

Cowboy appeared in the front door. “The heroes of the Haight have arrived,” he said loud enough to draw a few stares.

“You’re big news on Haight Street, Albert.”

“It’s Alex,” Alex said.

“The word is all over town about you saving the girl this morning. Some reporter from the Chronicle was trying to find you too.”

“Did you tell him where he lives?” Chick asked.

“Sure did,” Cowboy said. “I mentioned it to some cop who was asking about him too.”

At that, Chick started choking violently on the reefer between his lips.

“What the hell, Cowboy!” Sandman said loudly, as he tossed the nub of his well-used joint into the neighbor’s yard.

“What time did you tell them he would be here?” Chick sputtered out between coughs.

“I told them in a couple of hours.”

“And when was that?” Chick asked with much deliberation.

“A couple of hours ago,” Cowboy answered.

“Under the porch!” Skip yelled as he scoured his pockets for all manner of contraband.

“Too late,” Benny said, pointing toward the street.

A San Francisco Police car was making its way slowly up Ashbury Street, no more than a half a block away.

Everyone on the porch looked in the direction of the car. No one said a word. No one moved.

When the police car neared the house, it pulled to the curb. The car doors stayed shut for at least a minute. Alex looked at Chick. He was sweating profusely. In fact, most of the guys on the porch, Cowboy included, appeared close to fainting.

All four police car doors opened at once. Three policemen and an older gentleman wearing a sport coat and bow tie, and carrying a notepad and camera, emerged from the vehicle. Chick muttered “Oh shit” under his breath.

The four walked up the steps to the porch.

“Is there an Albert Conley here?” A police officer, wearing a uniform decorated with many ribbons, scanned the crowd.

“That would be me, and the name is Alex.”

“He fits the description,” another officer added.

“Were you the one who rescued Francine Miller this morning on Stanyan Street?” the officer with all the ribbons asked.

“Francine? Yes, that was me,” Alex said.

The officer with the ribbons, followed by the other three, climbed up to the porch. He held out his hand. Alex held out his and they shook. There was a click and the flash from the camera held by the man with the bow tie.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance son,” the officer said as he vigorously enclosed Alex’s hand in both of his.

“You are a true hero in my book. What do you say men?”

The two police officers to his rear said, “Yes sir,” loudly and in unison.

“We talked to an eyewitness,” the officer continued, “who said you turned around so the car would hit you and not the child. Would you say that was accurate?”

Alex’s hand felt like it was caught in a vice between the meaty paws of the officer of the law.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he responded.

“Furthermore,” the man in blue said loudly enough for all to hear. “If the vehicle in question had not swerved at the last second, Albert, I mean Alex here, would now be resting in a hospital room, or worst yet, the morgue.”

“Far out,” Sandman said from the area of the swing.

“Yes son, far out indeed,” the officer added.

The policeman let go of Alex’s hand. Counting the bruise, most of his right arm was now sore. He looked around the porch. The group by the swing could not have looked guiltier of an infraction if they had tried.

“Are these people your friends, Alex?” he asked.

“That we are,” Cowboy said proudly before Alex could open his mouth.

“They’re my friends.” Alex added while suppressing a smile.

“Any friends of yours are friends of mine. Do you mind if we hang out here while Jerry from the Chronicle asks you some questions?”

“Okay with me,” Alex said, “but it is Chick’s place. Hey Chick, is it okay if the policemen hang out here for a while.”

Alex heard Matt and Celeste snicker behind him. Sarah poked him in the ribs.

“By all means,” Chick said with as much sincerity as he could muster.

Belladonna was at the front door, having left Chick’s side on the swing at the first spotting of the police car.

“Would you all like some lemonade?” she asked the visitors.

“Well, that’s very nice of you. I believe we will take you up on that offer, won’t we boys?”

“Yes sir!” the two officers said in unison.

The officer with the ribbons announced himself as Captain Edward Hennessy, but please call me Ed, he added while looking directly at Chick.

A rather large crowd had formed on the adjacent porches and yards. Cars slowed down on Ashbury Street as they passed. The sidewalks filled with curiosity seekers.

“Mind if I sit here?” Captain Hennessy pointed to the vacated space on the swing next to Chick.

“No sir,” Chick said, and moved as close to the edge of the swing as possible.

“Please,” the Captain said, as he held out his hand to Chick, “call me Ed.”

As it turned out, the lemonade was quite popular that evening. Everyone on the porch requested a glass.

Jerry, the reporter, and Alex, with Sarah beside him, sat on the stoop and he rehashed the details of the morning to the best of his knowledge.

“He works for the Baltimore Sun you know.” Sarah said as the reporter neared the end of the questioning.

“No, I didn’t know that,” Jerry replied.

Alex told him about the weekly stories he sent back home. When Jerry asked if they knew about his morning heroics, Alex told him no, they did not.

Jerry closed his notepad and stowed his pen behind his ear. “They will soon.”

The reporter took a long pull from his glass of lemonade. “If you ever need a job in this area, let me know. I have contacts.”

“Will do.” Alex shook Jerry’s extended hand.

“Your story hit a nerve in this community. It will soon have people talking throughout San Francisco.” Jerry stood up and finished off his drink.

“People will think twice before they condemn this lifestyle. Risking ones life to save a child tends to be an attitude changer.”

Alex looked toward the swing. Captain Ed and Chick were holding a spirited conversation. The other two officers were talking to the rest of the group. There was a relaxed casual feel about the proceedings. The mice had met the cats and found them to be as gentle and non-threatening as themselves.

The four left the porch to much handshaking, thanking all for their hospitality. Captain Ed told Chick to keep in touch, and Chick agreed to it.

“If you ever want a job on the force,” the captain said to Alex, “look me up. There won’t be a problem. Heroes are always welcome. That means you too Matt,” he said, looking his way. “Chick told me about your Silver Star.”

At the police car, the two officers and the reporter hopped in. Captain Hennessy opened the passenger car door, then turned and faced the porch. He held up his hand and, with two fingers, gave all the peace sign.

“Far out,” Sandman said.

THE HERO OF HAIGHT-ASHBURY

The story ran on the front page
of Monday’s San Francisco Chronicle, morning and evening editions. The Chronicle was not preferred reading in Haight-Ashbury. That honor went to The City of San Francisco Oracle, published on Haight Street by Allen Cohen. The word on the street, however, was not to miss this issue.

Isis rustled Skip and Benny out of bed at least two hours before their normal wake-up time with specific orders to buy, borrow, or steal at least ten copies of the paper for the house.

Groggy and sullen, but rife with purpose, they set off on their mission. Less than an hour later, they returned with twelve papers and a much-improved disposition.

“We made the front page!” Skip shouted loud enough to bring all those awake and dressed to the first floor foyer.

Alex, Sarah, Matt, and Celeste were finishing their breakfast of Cheerios when the heard the commotion. They joined the rest of the group in the entranceway. Chick, it seemed, was the only one missing.

“Chick could sleep through an earthquake,” Belladonna said, and screamed up the steps. “Chick, get your lazy ass down here right now!”

Chick might have been able to sleep through a quake, but Belladonna’s voice woke him up immediately.

“I’m coming!” he yelled from the upstairs hallway. “Hold your horses.”

Less than a minute later, he was in the foyer, wearing a white robe with the word Sheraton emblazoned on its front.

“It’s good, Chick,” Skip said, handing him a paper.

Chick examined the front page and then flashed a smile. It was, to the recollection of those assembled, a first for Chick before the noon hour.

He held up the paper to the assemblage, pointing at the large bold print in the middle of the page. It read,
THE HERO OF HAIGHT-ASHBURY
.

Chick pulled the paper back and started to read.

Yesterday morning at approximately 10A.M., a hero emerged from the Haight-Ashbury community of San Francisco.

Alex Conley was walking past the Golden Gate Park on Stanyan Street with two of his friends, when he noticed a young girl running through the park toward the busy street.

Conley saw the mother giving chase, but the child was too fast for her.

Conley sprung into action, running between the parked cars and the heavy morning traffic of Stanyan Street.

The six year old girl, named Francine Miller, had entered the street between two parked cars and was about to run directly in front of a fast moving automobile.

Conley got to her a split second before tragedy struck, grabbing the child and turning his body toward the speeding vehicle, using himself as a shield to protect her.

Luckily, the car’s driver had the presence of mind to swerve his vehicle just enough to save the brave young man from certain catastrophic injury.

As it was, he was struck by the car’s side view mirror, causing severe bruising on his upper arm.

Miss Karen Miller, the girl’s mother, told this reporter that her daughter would have surely been seriously injured or killed were it not for the fast thinking heroics of Alex Conley.

She personally wanted to thank him for saving her daughter’s life.

“Francine is all I have,” she told this reporter. “I would have died if anything would have happened to her.” She then added, “There are people in San Francisco and throughout the United States who do not understand our culture and beliefs. I hope this serves as an example of who we are and what we stand for. The kindness of man doesn’t end in Haight-Ashbury, it begins here, and the man who saved my child’s life will always be my hero until the day I die.”

Alex Conley asked me to acknowledge his friend Matt Paxton, a Silver Star awarded veteran of Vietnam, for his assistance in the rescue. He also wanted to thank Sarah and Chick, and his other friends of his Ashbury Street residence for their help and encouragement during his stay here.

On a personal note, I found Alex Conley, and all of his friends, to be gracious and charming hosts during my visit with them last evening.

Perhaps we should take this act of self-sacrifice as a lesson in tolerance for people who think and act differently than us. We are all God’s children, different in some ways, but in many ways the same.

Chick lowered the newspaper and cheers and applause broke out simultaneously across the room. Alex was more than a little embarrassed by the reaction. Sarah hugged him tightly.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said before giving him a ‘goodnight’ kiss full on the lips.

“I didn’t do much.” Matt said, gripping Alex’s shoulder. “But thanks for mentioning me. It means a lot.”