I must be really getting old because lately all the memories that pop into my head are from way back in my childhood.
One day, Mum and I had to visit the Dept of Education in the heart of Sydney - something to do with being transferred to another school.
Near the Dept of Educ. was a small park with an obelisk that commemorated the fact that that spot was the origin point for measuring road distance in the fledgling colony of New South Wales.
A fire and brimstone preacher was going full bore on the sins of the unsaved and most people paid him no heed. Mum and I were eating our cut lunch if sandwiches and friut.
At the foot of the preacher lay an old drunk, possibly a consumer of metho and boot polish.
He kept harassing the preacher by repeatedly shouting out "Hey!" but the preacher ignored him as if he didn't exist.
Then the old man sat up and loudly declared "Hey! When you're dead, you're dead! AND THE GRUBS EAT YOU!"
I was highly amused by such heresy at the time but now I think that the preacher had a chance to be the Good Samaritan for that man, to call for help, or to put him in a taxi and take him to a place of refuge where he could sober up. He could then have come to him, to counsel him and encourage him to give up the grog.
It might have been a fruitless exercise, but if he had any faith in Jesus' teaching, he should not have walked on by.