Tunesday : She Talks to Angels

She Talks to Angels

(Robinson, R / Robinson, C) Performed by The Black Crowes

She never mentions the word addiction
In certain company
Yes, she'll tell you she's an orphan
After you meet her family

She paints her eyes as black as night now
Pulls those shades down tight
Yeah, she gives a smile when the pain come
The pain gonna make everything alright

Says she talks to angels
They call her out by her name
Oh yeah, she talks to angels
Says they call her out by her name

She keeps a lock of hair in her pocket
She wears a cross around her neck
Yes, the hair is from a little boy
And the cross is someone she has not met
Not yet

Says she talks to angels
Says they all know her name
Oh yeah, she talks to angels
Says they call her out by her name

She don't know no lover
None that I ever seen
Yeah, to her that ain't nothin'
But to me, yeah me
Means everything

She paints her eyes as black as night now
She pulls those shades down tight
Oh yeah, there's a smile when the pain comes
The pain gonna make everything alright
Alright, yeah heah

She talks to angels
Says they call her out by her name
Oh, yeah, heah, angels
Call her out by her name
Oh, ooh, oh, oh, angels
They call her out by her name

Oh, oh, oh, she talks to angels
They call her out
Yeah, ee, eah, eah, eah, eah
Call her out
Don't you know that they
Call her out by her name?

Gosh, has there ever been a better song about addicts and addiction than this? White Rabbit comes to mind as a very close runner-up, but the power and emotion of She Talks to Angels breaks my heart every time I hear it. Addiction is a hot button topic in our community - after our downtown core campaigned for and was awarded a rehab centre/halfway house for the Region, there have been numerous complaints of the lawlessness of the area's new inhabitants - and while no one wants to be accused of NIMBYism, it's hard to muster true compassion when parents and dogwalkers have to constantly scour the parks for used needles and more than one business has been driven out of downtown by tweakers and panhandlers. I'll share my own encounter this week.

We were driving downtown in the Dart - as pictured above, with me and Dave in the front and just Kennedy and Zach in the back - and were headed for The Mill for a celebratory dinner in Zach's honour. It was a beautiful evening and we were cruising along with the windows open, chatting and laughing and enjoying our own company. We arrived at a red light and continued chatting and laughing, not really paying attention to anything going on outside the car, when suddenly, a youngish woman stopped her progress across the crosswalk in front of us, turned to face us with her hip cocked and a fist planted defiantly at her waist, and she just stared us down across the Dart's long hood. Dave started to say, "What the...", but then I saw that an old man was crossing along behind the woman, verrrry slowly, and if she thought she needed to glare at us to make sure we didn't run him over, that's fine; we all noted the old guy and conversation inside the car resumed.

Just as the old man gained the curb and the woman turned to follow him, someone behind us honked their horn, and the woman spun and gave us double middle fingers and then began cursing, her mouth grinding back and forth over the words. She took a step towards us, so I leaned towards the window, smiled, and said, "It's all good. Wasn't us who honked." And just as Dave started driving, the woman lunged at me through the window with both her hands grasping at me (I assume she was going to pull my hair out by the roots), and while the combination of Dave driving and me recoiling meant she never made contact, Dave saw just enough out the corner of his eye to stop in the middle of the intersection and start growling, "What happened?" I said, "Drive, nothing happened." Dave was determined to pull over and make something of it and I pointed out that as we were half a block from the restaurant, the last thing we wanted was for her to follow us and key up his car while we were inside. I was shook up, but fine; we drove on.

We got to the parking lot - going first one way, backtracking, driving in loops to find a spot in the fullish lot - and as we got out, a car pulled up behind us. This was a lowrider three-dressed-up-as-a-nine souped-up piece of trashy flash, and the young male driver had a shaved head, full sleeve tattoos, and large, mirrored sunglasses. My first thought: What, the hell, now? So the guy says, "I was at the light back there." My next thought: Is he with that woman and wants to fight us now? And then he says, "And I don't know what you want to do about it, but I saw everything." And then I thought: Does he think we want to fight her and might need his help? And then he says, "If you wanna call the cops, I'll give you my number and be a witness for you - I saw it all and she can't get away with that." Talk about misreading someone at a glance - this young guy went to quite a bit of trouble to follow us through the parking lot in order to offer us his help, and I really appreciate that. But it only took that half block drive for me to register that that intersection was just a block from the rehab centre, and the woman might not have been in full control of herself. I told this young guy that the woman hadn't actually made contact with me (no matter what he thought he witnessed) and that I figured she had enough problems without me adding to them. He was obviously pumped up for a confrontation and seemed disappointed that I didn't want to call the police, but I thanked him sincerely and profusely for following up with us. 

Who knows what the rest of that woman's evening was like. My family and I went in and enjoyed a fabulous dinner overlooking the small waterfall, at a place where we had sheep and water buffalo cheeses, salt cod hash with truffled onions and brined brie as our appetisers; we had fine wine and huge belly laughs and courteous service; we had anything we wanted, everything we wanted, and we celebrated Zach's graduation from college in a way not everyone can; we were half a block and a world away from the woman at the intersection. I know nothing of that woman's life, but I assume she talks to angels; that they call her out by her name. I don't know if bringing troubled people from all over the Region into our own downtown was the right decision or not for our city (I understand that this move came with a large cash incentive, which is all our city council needed to hear), but listening to this song reminds me of these people's pain and humanity; that's what good art does and I appreciate having my thinking challenged.