Is There any Word from the Lord?

p. 28

On a street in New Haven, Doug Nelson witnessed something he never forgot. “Sitting in my parked car on a miserable, rainy, windy day, I watched a very small, very frail old black man walking by.  He had on his head a magnificent new hat, immaculately pearl gray, slanted at a rakish angle.  But the wind caught him and sent his hat, his pride and joy, whirling.  He made a frantic grab and slipped, and then he was sprawled on top of it in a large puddle.  As I got myself unfurled and out of the car a huge, brutal looking man crossed the pavement in one leap.  The rescuer looked like a composite of all the criminals on the police list.  But the mammoth hands gently picked up the skinny little man, wiped mud off his face and clothes and new hat.  Then that hulking brute tenderly placed the hat on the shaky old head, adjusted the brim, and disappeared into a bar.”