"I was sitting in the car, waiting for him to come back, and when he does, he's holding a bloody screwdriver. He killed the guy, and when I ask him why, all he says is, 'he still owed me fifty bucks.' I just shut my mouth and drove."
This is not a story I expect to hear when I am approached by an LA Fitness employee in a Portland area parking lot. But Juan, a clean cut Latino in his early thirties, is not your average gym employee.
Juan used to be a gangster. Not a graffiti-gang-signs-on-a-neighborhood-fence kind of gangster. Juan was a the-gun-is-hidden-in-the-bathroom-stall kind of gangster. As a teenager growing up in Long Beach amidst the mainstream arrival of NWA, Juan had it all.
He was living in lavish mansions, riding around in limousines, and enjoying the attention of a constant stream of beautiful women. Now, he is talking to me in a shopping center parking lot, wearing an LA Fitness employee polo shirt and holding a pad of trial membership coupons.
Still, Juan claims he is just now developing an appreciation for life.
"Prayer. It's all about prayer. That can do some amazing things for you."
Juan found God, and it has completely turned his life around. He no longer lives in mansions, he has no need for limos, and he is currently taking a vow of abstinence.
Sound like a bad deal? Juan disagrees.
"One day, I looked around and realized that all my friends were dying or going to jail."
Now, Juan is living a sustainable lifestyle that involves greater benefits than material wealth and meaningless flings. And more importantly, he's still around to enjoy them.
It wasn't easy. Juan gave up his sins to join a church, then was unceremoniously dropped from the congregation when he relapsed in a life-long battle with alcohol addiction. Fortunately, Juan's allegiance was to God, not to organized religion, and he was able to make it through.
Now he is free to concentrate on maintaining a healthy lifestyle, helping the children in his community, and making sure that the only screwdrivers he sees are used for household handiwork.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
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