by Chauncey Kenton

Created on: August 02, 2009

It started out as a bright shiny morning in June, full of hope and new adventures. I didn't realize that today I was going to be a witness to the profound effects of a family dealing with drug addiction.

I was sitting in my car, on a downtown street in Norfolk, VA. I was waiting on my son, who was taking a test for a job, in the federal building located on another street. Parking was scarce, and when I found this spot, located a half-block away from a mission shelter, I pulled in and paid the meter.

I had rolled down my car windows to enjoy the warm spring air. I was really getting engrossed in the latest Greg Iles book when I saw a small compact car pull up in front of the mission. The occupants were three adults who appeared to be having a heated discussion. I could see the car shaking, and a lot of fingers being pointed back and forth. Finally, the driver's side door opened and a man in his mid-forties got out, shaking his head, and went around the car to open the trunk. He took out two suitcases, and placed them on the sidewalk in front of the mission.

A woman with graying hair climbed slowly out of the front passenger side. She was crying and holding a Kleenex to her nose. As she sobbed, her shoulders shook, and it was obvious to me that she was dealing with some heart-wrenching decision.

Finally, the back seat passenger flung the door wide open and jumped out. He was a tall, thin young man with the initial "W" cut into his closely shaven head. He had on the oversized clothing that is so popular with young men today, and his jeans were hanging low off his slim hips. He had one athletic shoe on, and he was holding the other in his hand. He was shouting at the woman, jumping in her face and backing away with his arms spread wide. He gestured at the suitcases, and then turned to the older man, and threw the shoe at his head. The shoe missed, and bounced against the side of the old brick building and came to rest up against a flower planter on the street.

I cut my radio off so I could hear the conversation - not to be nosy, but I was afraid that trouble was brewing on the street corner, and I wanted to be able to grab my cell phone and call 911 if the young man started a fight. I could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation, but what I gathered was that the parents were dropping off their son at the mission because he was a drug addict, and he had disrupted their home. Evidently, he had caused them a great deal of pain

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