An Airport Interview

“Did you say, ‘It sucked?’” she asked, as I conducted an interview on my cell phone, in an airport, sitting underneath a television screen that was loudly broadcasting an infomercial. The vacuum cleaner that was being promoted could suck up most anything, or so the guy loudly said as I tried to respond to questions from the reporter based in Santa Barbara.

“No, that’s not what I said,” I replied trying not to laugh, “I said that the Symposium was great! I don’t think anything about it sucked, including the hotel food.”

“Oh good,” she answered, “I was hoping that it was positive. This is a very positive story!”

“Good, the International Street Medicine Institute is an important growing movement,” I continued.

I answered questions about Dr. Jim Withers of Pittsburgh, the rapid growth of the movement (from 20 to 130 in 5 years); to how health care is really being reformed from the ground up rather than the Capital down.

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted, “did you say he is dirty?”

I suppressed another giggle. “No Dr. Withers is a great guy! He’s really the founder of the movement. If he is dirty, then I don’t know anything about it. Now there is this other doctor from Houston…”

I was in the Atlanta Airport on my way back home after more than a week of being on the road. Sitting on the floor at my gate, I was trying to knock out emails when the cell phone went off and the reporter caught me off guard. I had known that the media was covering the Symposium, after all these are doctors and nurses who make house calls to the homeless, under bridges and such! It is certainly different from most gatherings of medical professionals.

Before I left home to attend this meeting, I was walking Goddess one evening and ran across my neighbor Tony. He and his wife Margaret had agreed to watch the beloved dog while I was away. He asked where I was off to this time.

I told him about the Street Medicine Institute. The Nurses and Doctors and Interns who go out on to the streets of their cities to provide health care.

“That doesn’t sound like any of the doctors that I know,” he said.

Nodding my head, I admitted that the Institute attracted a rare breed.

“What kind of cars to do they drive?” he asked.

Reflecting back to the last February when I was in Pittsburgh and Jim picked me up from the airport, I laughed. Jim’s van was dirty and the interior was filled with medical supplies and bags of socks. Before we could leave, he had to open the hood and fill the vehicle with transmission fluid.

“They drive clunkers,” I answered matter-of-factly.

“They don’t sound like any of the doctors that I know,” Tony repeated.

And that is one of the reasons that I love this work. It is filled with the mavericks of the world. It is occupied by the ones who think and live outside of the box. It calls those who really believe in the teachings of Jesus or the Talmud or any other religion and make it the basis of how they live their lives. It is a remnant community to use a Biblical phrase of individuals who really believe that they can change the world and make it a better place.

Early on in my career, my Dad and Mom used to struggle with what I do for a living. They thought that I could have chosen a profession where I made a lot of money which is how I think that they defined success at the time. I can remember visiting home and my Dad introducing me to his friends and then at a loss would say, “Tell them what you do!” He really had no idea.

And there are many days that I wonder too. Will I have enough money to retire one day? I’ve got one daughter left in college and she’s almost done and so far it’s ok. My car will need replacing. The ceiling in the kitchen is in need of a bit of work. My lawn mower died just before the end of the summer.

And yet, I have doctor friends who have to fill their dirty vans with transmission fluid every time that they drive it to give medicine to someone living under a bridge. A nurse friend who works two jobs so that she can help homeless people on the streets of Hawaii. An art student who believes that painting portraits of homeless people, and placing them in exhibitions, provide dignity and hope to her subjects. These are the people who I think are the real heroes in the world. I’m happy that I get to hang around them.

“I’m sorry,” the reporter interrupts my thoughts, “did you say that he used to be filthy?”

I suppressed another laugh and did my best to finish the interview, thankful to be here, doing what I do.