Some evenings I sense there is unrest on the streets even before I get there. 

This was one such evening. 

When I reached the street where I usually start my walk, I could see part of the problem. 

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There was a movie being made, and many of the regulars had moved elsewhere. It used to be quite common to have movies made there because the dilapidated and destroyed houses gave a perfect backdrop to scenes of violence and poverty. 

When I started to walk down the street, I almost came across a lady lying on the street passed out on drugs. Unfortunately, she was not an actress, but someone I knew. I knelt down beside her and called her name. No response. There was a security guard on the street so I called him to come and make sure she was taken care of. 

I continued on my way, and when I passed one of the movie trailers I asked if they had a part for a good-looking Deacon. They just laughed, and despite telling them I have movie credentials on The Daily TV Mass, they turned down my generous offer. 

It was fortunate they did because when I reached the end of the street, I saw that the movie was being “shot” in the local strip club. It was only a short walk from there to the corner where the drugs are the most plentiful and I met a friend who was passed out on the ground. I stayed with her long enough to make sure that she was awake and able to look after herself. 

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Readers of this column may recall that I have made friends with a couple of prostitutes who are from an African country and who are now regulars on the street. The friendship has progressed slowly as I have tried to gain their trust. A few weeks ago, I asked them what they would like me to pray for, and one said, “Please pray for my mother and father who have died.” The other said, “Please pray that I will be safe on the streets. It is dangerous out here.” 

When I went to see them this time, I took the risk of asking if I could pray with them out loud, and they both bowed their heads as we prayed together. At the end of the prayer, they each said, “Amen.” It is small moments like these that can one day perhaps lead them to give up this dangerous lifestyle.

As I was leaving them, I heard a call from across the street. It was my namesake on the street, “Robert Kinghorn.” Yes, there are two of us out there. I have known him now for about 15 years when he came to our parish to talk about his life of addiction and his recovery. We walked back together to the drug area where he still has many friends, and he talked about his life and his 27 years of being clean of hard drugs. But, as he said, “I still dabble in alcohol sometimes.” Leaving, he asked for my phone number, and his parting comment was, “Tonight you made a difference,” 

Watching us was a woman I have seen at this intersection for at least seven years, but she is usually too far into her drugs to talk with me. Clearly, she was still a little under the influence but perhaps emboldened by seeing I was a friend of the other Robert Kinghorn, she was not so bad that she could not stop and chat. I told her I remembered the last time I talked with her. It was on her 50th birthday when she was wearing a crown with the word, “Sweetie” on it. 

She laughed and said, “That was seven years ago now. I am 57 now.” It was then that her life story came out. “I was in prison for eight years for attempted murder” she said. “I had been abused by my boyfriend for many years and then one night he tried to choke me.” 

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As she spoke, she acted out the incident there on the street. “He had me pinned against the back of a couch and so I reached over and hit him with a lampstand. What was I supposed to do, let him kill me?” 

I went home thinking, “Tonight you made a difference.”