I’m waiting for the police to arrive. Ron just asked if they were coming and my response was, “They usually do. And if it’s the usual police partners, they bring Scooby snax.”
This response gives me pause.
I work at home and my desk is by the upstairs window. This morning marks another situation where I’ve called the police because of activity on my neighbor’s front lawn. This time, it was a kid ripping off my neighbor’s grill. He loaded it in his car and took off, driving backwards so that I couldn’t see the license plate. While I was on the phone with the dispatcher she quipped about how badly he must have wanted that grill to take it in this weather. We joked a little. I should have asked her name so that I can just say Hi the next time I call.
We live in a very nice neighborhood but I still lock my doors, mostly from habit. I lived in L.A. during the Rodney King riots. The kid today didn’t look violent — as if you can tell. But, I did pause before walking outside and stopped myself from yelling at him. Who needs to set yourself up for retribution? He could have had a gun and just shot me for disrespecting him. These are such paranoid thoughts, but weird stuff like that happens. Even in nice neighborhoods.
Significantly,
Susan Scot Fry
Update… I’ve managed to forget how close people are to violence, theft and destruction. I think it’s okay that that aspect of the human condition is not part of my daily consciousness. But, as always happens when my awareness of something becomes heightened, I see it more. It’s like, if you feel like a red balloon, everyone starts to look like a red balloon.
I’m encountering how close various people in my sphere of acquaintance are to busting out. It’s like they’re barely contained bundles of rage and they’re just primed for an opportunity to vent. People I wouldn’t guess and people that I could.
There seems to be this simmering well of need and pain. I’ve removed myself from it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.
A Year of Significance 
I say a pump action shotgun works wonders. Just the sound tends to give punks pause, as does the little red dot of a laser site. I am sick and frackin tired of criminals having all the protection and us law abiding citizens being treated as criminals. If it makes you feel better, since Jerry Brown (best Mayor EVER) left and Dellums took over the crime rate has gone through the roof. It’s like the scum are demons and we are the Hellmouth. It’s one big party without consequences.
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Milwaukee’s got a lot of crime issues, but can’t hold a candle (in my opinion – having lived in both places) to various parts of CA. Frankly, the slightly lower need for a shotgun is one of the reasons I prefer living in Wisconsin.
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Still, I’m sorry you’ve had quite so much opportunity to realize that you *could* be on a first-name basis with the police dispatcher. Thanks for calling it in. It’s a small act, but being engaged enough to do it rather than too tired/jaded to bother means that there’s hope. Maybe punk gets caught, maybe not, but if the sense of community means that he does, everyone benefits. And, even if not, your neighbors know folks are looking out for them, and are encouraged to reciprocate. And, things still get a little bit better.
😐
Still…stealing the grill? Seriously? That’s like stealing a rocking chair or package of teacups off someone’s porch…oh, wait…people do that, too!
Bottom line, people are just weird.
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