To say I was a little wild and crazy in my youth is an understatement.  I constantly say when you think back on those things you have to say "Was I really that crazy?" and you have to admit "Yes, I was!"  One particular incident came to mind when I was trying to think when was the first time I ever had any dealings with any Muslims in Maine.
A friend of mine called me up one day who belonged to one of the social action groups I was acquainted with, and said he had a problem. Some friends of his who were Muslims had bought a house out in the country.  Some of the people in the area had said that they weren't going to let them live there, that if they tried to move in they'd come up and bust them up and drive them out.  My friend asked if I'd be willing to go in an escort party to see that the people got moved in all right and didn't get bothered. I said "Sure thing!  Where do we meet?"
We met at a local convenience store well known to everybody so it would be easy to find.  I took two guys in my car and followed the rest because I didn't know the way.  We got to the house, the people opened it up, I got my pump action out of the trunk, put my pistol in the back of my belt, and started helping pull stuff out of the van.
Suddenly five or six cars pulled into the driveway, came to a stop, and five or six guys with baseball bats, or, just wooden clubs, piled out of each one.  The six of us that were armed grabbed our shotguns and formed a line across the front of the house.  My friend hollered to the leader of the group and told them to get back in their cars and leave.  The leader of the group screamed that these religious nuts weren't staying in their community, only Christians were allowed there.  My friend told him this was a free country, they were getting out of there, and we were taking down their license numbers. If there was any trouble we'd know who to come looking for.
"You're crazy!"  the leader of the group screamed, "You're nuts!"
"You better understand that," my friend told him, "and know this.  Two or three of us will be out here night and day for the next few months, waiting for anybody that wants to cause trouble.  Now, go home, or if you want to be good neighbors, help the people move in.  But they're staying!"
"You know," one of the other men said, "I think they're just crazy enough to shoot us!  I didn't bargain for this kind of trouble!"
"Me neither!"  another man remarked.
They all started back to their cars.  The leader of the group shot us one more angry look, and he, too, left.  We unloaded our weapons, put them away, only a couple of us keeping them handy, and the rest helped the people move in.  I dropped the others off at the convenience store and headed home, not thinking much about it.
Years later I ran into my friend and asked him how that situation worked out.  He said, "You know, after a few months everybody just started getting along.  The leader of the troublemakers heard we helped out people that were having problems with welfare, and asked if we could help out his sister.  The next thing you know, we're all friends, and he's been working with the social action group for years!  He just about fell over laughing one day when I told him our guns were loaded with rock salt, not buckshot!"
"That still would've stung!"  I told him. We reminisced about some other things and that was the last time I ever saw him.
Yep, I was a little wild when I was young, I was damned CRAZY when I was young!