An Encounter: Stephen Tripp

That I, with my weak memory for names, remember so clearly his, after a random encounter over 50 years ago, indicates that this was not a trivial event.

In the extended, happy, honeymoon period of our marriage, before we received our first born (1971-4) we religiously practiced the sacred American rite of Saturday date night. Mostly we loved to go into "The City" (meaning lower Manhattan): movie, dinner and drinks, maybe stop at a bookstore or an open Church or a Saturday vigil mass.) We were walking up Avenue of the Americas, early evening, when around 9th or 10th street we almost walked over a man laying in the street. Many people were passing; some pausing to look or enquire. But I instinctively knelt down next to him and asked "Are you ok? Do you need help?" It seemed probable it was a drug overdose. I have the idea he could not see me, but not that he was blind. He seemed to immediately like and trust my voice as he grabbed my arm and said "Yes. Please help me." No cell phones than. I don't recall thinking about an ambulance, which would have been the correct protocol. We helped him to his feet and determined to bring him to a hospital. Fortunately, St. Vincents's was just one long block west so we made our way there slowly. He could barely walk on his own but he was not a big man and we were both young and strong so it was not so difficult. The ER declined to evaluate him. His address was not too far: more than a mile, less than two. We slowly accompanied him east on 11th Street a couple of long blocks and then south on, perhaps 3rd or 4th Avenue, quite a few blocks. 

His condition improved as we walked. We now were balancing but not carrying him. We talked pleasantly.. He must have told us he had overdosed. The walk was delightful. Lighthearted, in a heavenly way. The kind of transcendence we often receive from the ordinary flow of life at a really good vacation or funeral or wedding. Lifted out of life: easy, peaceful, delighted. 

As we left him, very grateful and affectionate, I said to myself: "I will never forget Stephen Tripp." And I never have. I wonder if he remembered us.