picturesque along the streets of Brookline . At this time in 2012 , they were lined with Christmas lights and decorations , snow lightly covering the cars and sidewalks . My father is a wonderful man . A huge push-over for his daughters , grandchildren , and girlfriend . He loves jazz , sushi , and mimosas ( preferably all together on the beach of some Caribbean island ). He is a creature of habit , his daily morning walk being one of them . He loves the quiet streets and uncluttered sidewalks that the early mornings afford him . It ’ s his chance to center himself and get ready for the day . He is a resident of Brookline . So , the morning it happened , armed with only his Walkman and winter gear , my father headed out to perform his morning ritual . He left as one man , but would return someone else .
“ There was an ominous feeling in the air that morning .” You know it ’ s never going to end well when it starts like that .
My father dismissed the ominous feeling as winter finally settling in for the season . Other than that momentary feeling , there was nothing else out of the ordinary . Twenty minutes into his journey , walking down a side street , he saw a small disturbance thirty feet in the distance . Immediately , he recognized this “ unsavory group ” ( those are his words , not mine ) as the infamous gang of legend . Not wanting to bring attention to himself , he quickened the pace of his walk . Soon , he would turn onto the main street where he wouldn ’ t be so secluded . This was one time he would be glad to see a few more people on the street . As he neared the corner , my father turned back to ensure he had put a safe distance between him and those undesirable creatures . The entire lot of them had stopped what they were doing and were suddenly following after him . He could hear them grumbling as they moved towards him .
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unassuming people you ’ d ever meet . And when it comes to gangs , he poses no threat to them whatsoever . In some ways , people might say he ’ s an ally to them because he has defended their struggles publicly as the result of factors outside of their control . When my father noticed he was still being followed , he began to run , and the gang members began running full-speed after him . My endearing , vegetarian , pacifist father was now engaged in a heated game of predator versus prey , and he was not the one doing the hunting .
With nowhere to go and seemingly no rescue in sight , my father ducked down an alleyway to try and shake them off . For a moment , he thought he was free . A crippling fear ran through his body when he realized the gang members were fast approaching , their cackling and yelping getting louder as they approached . Soon later , the man who taught me how to ride a bicycle and throw a punch , the first man I ever loved , was being tormented by the lowest of bullies . As the screams of these predators grew angrier , my father found the alley closing-in around him . It wasn ' t long before he was also screaming .
What happened next can only be attributed to divine intervention . Whether it was the guttural yells of the assailants or the desperate cries of the helpless victim , something got the attention of an angel . This angel , in a Volkswagen Passat hatchback , sprang into action to rescue my father from the claws of danger . My father , cornered in the back of the alleyway , screamed a blood-curdling scream worthy of a Alfred Hitchcock thriller . The gang , feeding off the fear , bore down on him like the hunters . As years of oppression , profiling , and exploitation finally come to an ugly and vicious head , these ruffians were ready to pounce on a man that had , in fact , spent a good part of his adult life supporting them in their struggle through positivity .
Within seconds , the gap had closed significantly between the flock of degenerates and my sweet , passive father ; it was as if they had galloped towards him . In fear for his safety , he broke into a light jog ( he ’ s in great shape for a man turning 70 this month ). Now I ’ m not saying that other people deserve to be terrorized by this gang of cackling fools , but my father is one of the most
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The Passat came barreling backwards down the alley with its horn blaring . The gang yelped and squawked as they scrambled to get out of the way . They looked like a flock of frightened birds as they scattered in all directions . Then , the hatchback ’ s trunk popped open .