Driving down Mason Street not so long ago I passed a raggedy fellow on the sidewalk, maybe down on his haunches, ranting about something in a scratchy, fiery voice. Probably nothing that made any sense—I couldn’t distinguish. It took me back to our street meetings in Steelton PA, c. 1960.

By the curb our car, loudspeakers lashed to the roof. Snaking through the debris in the empty lot—carnival tickets, Coca-Cola caps, popsicle papers, weeds—the electrical cord for the amplification system, like somebody’d let it out of the zoo, and leading to the microphone stand. The sermons. The songs, like “Whosoever Will,” Who-so-ev-er hear-eth, shout, shout the sound, send the bless-ed ti-dings all the world a-round, or “Jesus Saves,” We have heard a joy-ful sound, Je-sus saves, Je-sus saves.

We all have our reasons. Insanity. Hellfire. Political heinousness. Are they any different? It’s a question.

(Days later this, too, on Mason. I’m sorry I missed it.)

(And this in Pittsburgh. Footage credit: Zachary)

 


 

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