SAN JOSE, California -- On June 13, a small memorial service was held for Al Barlow at St. James Park here. Many people spoke about his countless small kindnesses, and his uncompromising spirit. I had to struggle for words to express the deep pride I felt to be there to honor him.
Al used to have a habit about the middle of every month. He'd pull me aside and ask to borrow $10 until his pension check came on the first. I'd give him a suspicious look; then he'd say, "What you do think -- I'm going to leave town for a lousy ten bucks?" I'd loan him the money, and he'd always pay me back.
But now Al finally has left town.
I honored Al, even though he was a man full of sins and prejudices. In his small way, Al was a moral leader for our times. He represented decency and fairness in a day when our so-called leaders have shown they have no morals and no conscience. I was with Al when he demonstrated tirelessly for housing for the homeless. I was with him when he marched eight miles in the rain to protest Proposition 187. I was with him when he donated $20, $40, or $60 out of his check to buy food for the homeless.
The other day, I was talking with someone who was worried about our reputation when we associate with some of the homeless, who sometimes act rudely or crudely. It reminded me of Al. It made me wonder -- with whom should we be concerned about our reputation? With high society? With corporate America? With the mayor and city council?
Al knew our reputation with those people does not matter. What matters is our reputation with God.
Last fall, when he was diagnosed with cancer, Al told me he wasn't going to cry about it, or complain about it, because he felt he had lived a good life. To some of us, it might not look that way. He served in the Korean War, spent years in Southern prisons, lived on the streets, and fought with alcoholism for decades. But I know what Al meant. What was important was that he spent his life -- especially his later years -- fighting for justice and for a more beautiful world. This is something more valuable, and feels better, than all the luxuries in the Fairmont Hotel. It is something no one could ever take away from him, even in these mean streets. It is his personal gift, from him to all of us.
