"There is a Lesson in Everything" Here on this spot is where it happened. He placed his foot on the fire hydrant laying his arm across his raised knee while grasping onto his wrist with the other hand forcing control of his self as the pain of memory shot through his mind torturing him. His jaw tightened as he fought back tears that lay in wait filling the ducks in the eyes swelling with each passing moment threatening to break free and come streaming down his face. He was angry, angry at many things, and even more so angry at this damn fire hydrant in which his left foot now rest upon. He was leaning into it hard with an increasing desire to crush it, just stomp it into the ground. He wanted to cause it pain as it had caused him so much pain, just being there, here, a constant reminder of his brother's death. Yeah he thought these things are suppose to save lives not take them. His thought continued, too often that is exactly what they do take lives, and not just any lives, good lives of good people, good men, and women. He shook his fist at it for a moment cussing under his breath, then his rampage of thoughts and anger crowded his mind again, pushing around inside it as if looking for an escape door an exit to somewhere else fast, as he began to mumble to himself as if talking to an imaginary person listening intensively to every word he spoke, "Yeah, I am sure many here see this fire hydrant, and feel security in knowing one is on their street no matter what other dangers exist, or obvious trash that is plainly visible to them lying all around waiting like predators in the day and in the night to take, harm, do whatever whenever they, them, he, her, it wanted too, to whomever or whatever." There were rules here, but not rules all could live comfortably by not rules the rest of the world are use to. Rather rules made by those who dwell in this hell. Yeah those that uphold the law, and help the common citizen for the rest of the world outside this one goes and puts a fire hydrant here to put out fires here. "Hell let the damn place burn down Joe screamed out inside his mind." Nevertheless, here it is, so for the people that reside here in their small selfish minds, they feel safe, secure. For what Joe thought more… to go on living in hell dreaming to get out while many never care to leave or they would. He lowered his head as a tear escaped its prison inside his left tear duck and began its trickling hop down his cheek. Raising his left arm, he quickly caught it rubbing it into his face as he ran his balled up fist a crossed his left cheek the salt filled tear felt almost burning leaving a small tinge of red to that part of his face while the tear itself vanished. He raised his head again foot firmer then ever now propped up on the hydrant still straining to hold back more tears that would eventually come and he knew it. He watched as the cars would come down the street and pass by. He watched with growing hatred and anger as those that came down slowly starred, pointed, laughed, and then moved on. They were not laughing at him, but they mise well had been for he knew what that drive consisted of, he'd been on it his self before as young man, showing relatives the not so great part of town, him and his friends would drive this street for a form of entertainment in his youth, lacking the wisdom and knowledge he now has for what this place is and why. When someone from afar came to visit, gathering in his fathers Studebaker as small as it was to cruise down the road and show their cousins, the freaks in existence in their town and they'd laugh as the car rolled down the pavement, with their windows rolled up and their doors locked. They'd laugh and talk about things, talk about them that live there, the hookers, the wino's and all the others that was wasting their lives away there, saying things like how could these people live like this and it be ok, how could they stay, why would they stay? How can they feel an ounce of safety? Joe starred at the fire hydrant becoming angrier at each passing moment of thought. This, this damn fire hydrant is one of those things that so often bring false security to many rich and poor alike he thought. However, what he was only realizing at this very moment as the internal pain became almost unbearable and was reaching that point where he could not and would not hold back the tears any longer. He was a strong man sure, but some things even a strong man can't hold back. One thing he knew for sure for the first time he saw that hydrant in a different light, and he surely felt many others probably have never seen it from this new discovery, this new point of view in which he'd been thrown into unwillingly but still finding a lesson he has learned that while this may save the lives of many and even those that live on this street where the dregs of life seem to gather, those that care little for their own lives, it too can take the lives of others, others who do care for themselves and for others, even others they never knew and even for those who care little for themselves. This tool is not a tool of pure safety, and security, it is only tool used to assist another who cares enough to try to help improve the life of yet another known or unknown no matter what the conditions are that is in need of such care in someway, somehow like that of chalk, and chalk board is to a teacher. Joe took his foot down, pulled a pocket knife from his right pant pocket, leaned in toward the hydrant and not caring whether the entire world saw him or not he scratched his brothers' name into it where the paint was not yet pealing off as the tears came and he let them. He stood wiping his face briefly while sliding the knife back into his pocket and then pulling his pocket watch from it, opening it up, and glancing at it. Joe said out loud rest in peace John Q. Carey and strolled across the street to his car.