Here’s a news video about it.

We’ll be having a memorial service on Labor Day for James David Pelfrey. His family has provided flowers, music & fried chicken in the hopes that he’ll be remembered the way they’d like to remember him. If you’d like to help remember James (David) please come. If you have the ability, please bring something to share. Consider a bucket of fried chicken–enough to feed yourself and at least one other person.

Monday, September 7, 2009

7:00 PM

Washington/Jefferson Park

Jefferson Street picnic table, between 1st & 5th

Come as you are. If you’re able to bring chicken, please bring enough to share with those who aren’t.

(There are KFC locations at W. 11th, River Rd. & Gateway)

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.

Are pastors supposed to cry when they lose someone? Am I supposed to cry when I talk to his sister, and tell her that her brother is gone? (She asked me about heaven. I told her yes, I am certain that James is with God.)

I’m noticing one of the hardest parts of this is the powerlessness. The police & the news describe him, and my friends, like they’re not really people, but something like intelligent monkeys, whose behavior can be observed and described. They treat me, and his sister, like we’re intelligent monkeys, too. (Every time I work with the police, it feels very weird, because they treat me almost exactly like the “homeless” people I work with. Something in me expects them to see me as “better”, though realizing that makes me wanna puke.)

I’ll post a real obituary soon. James was loved by a lot of people.
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Two more quick things. First, here’s a couple of news links, in case you want to know more. KEZI video, Register Guard story. Second, some of you talk about wanting to come to the park with us. I don’t want to discourage that… these next few weeks will be hard, but love & light is also especially needed right now. If you feel called to come & meet some of my friends, please let me know.