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insomnia
James Pelfrey was among the first men I got to know in this “park” ministry, and over the past seven months I spent a fair amount of time with him. Yesterday, James died, in the very park where we met.
So, now I’m remembering James losing sleep over another man’s death. Last may, a homeless man was brutally murdered, and our town is small enough and quiet enough for that to be shocking. For the folk who live outside, it was extra shocking. For James, it was deeply disturbing. That slaying happened in a nearby park, closer to the river. I didn’t know the man who was killed that night, Herbert Bishop. Mr. Bishop wasn’t part of the circle of associations I’d made, but his death brought out fear for everybody who slept outside, without protective walls, doors, and locks.
The gloom of those fears persisted a long time through that cold Spring. Among the many who were upset, I’d say James was the most upset. For one thing, on that night he’d been sleeping close enough to be awakened by the sounds of the fatal blows. That rhythmic pounding had puzzled him. In the morning he figured out what he must have been listening to.
Because he’d been so close to the scene, James was interviewed by police, and he was close to others who were interviewed in that investigation. He tired of that fast. He became suspicious. He was afraid to sleep. He would nap a little during the day when friends could watch over him, then he’d stay awake all night, vigilant over his nighttime companion. As the weeks drew on the accumulated effects of lack of rest and distrustful bickering became worse. These fell, of course, on top of the effects of daily drunkenness.
Eventually, the pervasive fear faded. The heat of summer, arrests of suspects in Bishop’s murder, and changes in who-hangs-out-with-who created a new version of normalcy. James wasn’t so perpetually on edge as he had been. Now there were days where his spirits were high and he joked and played.
All of the sudden, it’s James who lies dead among us. Memories of James force themselves on me, an incongruous collection of reckless and cautious actions. James was afraid that he might die in something like the manner he did actually die. Yet James was also fearless when it came to many things that I tend to fear.
Living closer to James has strengthened my confidence that fear does not help. His fears did not keep him safe. My fears are not keeping me safe. Fear does not let us assure our safety—not individually, not collectively. Fear may be important, but it isn’t important in the way it seems important when we are fearful. Fear is for letting go.
With a new killer “on the loose” around here, there’s plenty of fear stirred up. I’ve my own share of it. This time perhaps that fear will not linger so. Perhaps this time I’ll be better able to remind others that love can cast out fear.
Posted by Tracy under stories
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
8 Comments
He was really different after Pacman’s death. And you’re right that it lightened up toward the end. I think he’d just begun to relax a little. I know that he’d made peace with friends he’d pushed away.
And I think Michelle was good for him, you know? There was — is — some real love there.
(Pacman was Herbert Bishop’s street name.)
Thanks for sharing this. For those of us with homes to sleep in at night, it takes a special courage and love to get this close to homeless people. Too many are in a comfortable relationship with their religion, perhaps knowing (and caring) about people less fortunate, often donating of their possessions, but not of themselves.
I think I am somewhere in between. I am marginally involved with The Big Issue Foundation here in London and recently completed a sponsored bike ride from London to Paris (http://www.bigissue.org.uk/events.php?eventid=2) combining a love of cycling with a desire to help others :)
Dave had love and is loved now. He has a awesome 7 year old son who will never get to know his father. My sister and him had a good relationship before their son was born. Dave just fell on hard times and drugs took him over. I have or did know Dave for over 10 years and I know my family will miss him. Please if anyone has pictures, stories or anything we can give to his son so that someday we can explain why his father was taken away from him we would be greatful. my email is amy03082003@yahoo.com please contact me. Thank you
Dave was a real goodfriend of mine my heart is broken ..he was a good guy friend and life took him places dave ill miss you man I hope they catch the evil person who did this. Dave was a very smart person and tought me a lot I want forget you buddy and I will let your little boy know who you were ok see you in heaven bro the flanagan family florida
Dave was a good friend it’s been year since I have seen him.It’s heart breaking to hear the news of his death.What’s even more heart breaking is his son will never meet his father.I will keep his family in my prayers.Still love you buddy R.I.P
I’m very sorry for the lose of James Pelfrey, my daughter Michelle Hindman was the girlfriend of James. She’s really broken up about losing a friend, as well as a boyfriend. She told me he was the firt man that had ever showed her love, and kindness. I wish I COULD OF BEEN THERE FOR HER TIME OF SORROW, but I’m dealing my own sicknesse’s, and Ilive in Redmond , Oregon. I’m her mother.
Ilove my daughter very much. Hope one day someone can furnish her with a job, she’s a great worker. She’s been on the street for 2 years and has told me if she had s job and a place to stay, that would make her very happy.
Sincerely
Michelle Hindman’s Mother Darlene Huffman
I appreciate all of your comments. James David was loved by a lot of people, and is remembered fondly. If you are ever in town, I’d love to meet you, and introduce you to some of his friends. — Angela
I am trying to get in touch with James’s girlfriend, Michelle Hindman. Does anyone have a contact phone number for her, or a mailing address. Thank you.
Star