Crime
We live at the mercy of evil overlords who come by night to smash out door glass, accumulate electronic tools and toys, remove them. Two weeks ago the house across the street met this fate. Last night it was a house behind me. Leaving me, uneasily, in the middle.
A couple of nights ago, three streets behind me a gang of bad guys went down the middle of the street slashing tires to their right and to their left. Got every single car on the street. How do I know the perps operated from center-street? A little old lady saw them at it.
The community e-list begs us, "Please, keep your porch light on all night. Also, install solar, motion-detecting lights." Why? Because in this historic neighborhood, the street lights are faux gas lamps which provide about as much illumination as a jar full of fire flies.
Day before yesterday I was out doing my water and weeds thing. A young fashion statement approached the house across the street where I knew the occupants to be away at work. This lad wore those pants that make it almost to the wearer's butt crack. Also he wore the ghetto-obligatory, too-big t-shirt and baseball cap. Worst, he seemed uneasy, looking to his right and left, around and around, clearly scoping out the environment. I didn't have a cell phone with which to call the police. If I had abandoned my yard job and gone indoors to get a phone, the effort would have taken at least twenty minutes since I'm old/slow. My heart pounded, "I shouldn't just let that kid do whatever he's about to do, but how can I stop him?" The young man surreptitiously approached the door, looking over his shoulder. He had something in his hand, but not a key. Was it a credit card to use on an easy lock? At the last second before he disappeared indoors, I shrieked, "HEY!!! YOU!! Whadaya think YOU'RE doing?" He jumped guiltily, looked all around, failed to see me, and dashed down the sidewalk, out of sight. Whew! Close one.
All of which qualifies this street for a little sign down by the light on the corner, "Warning. This street protected by irate senior citizen." Oh, yeah. I have a chihuahua, too.
A couple of nights ago, three streets behind me a gang of bad guys went down the middle of the street slashing tires to their right and to their left. Got every single car on the street. How do I know the perps operated from center-street? A little old lady saw them at it.
The community e-list begs us, "Please, keep your porch light on all night. Also, install solar, motion-detecting lights." Why? Because in this historic neighborhood, the street lights are faux gas lamps which provide about as much illumination as a jar full of fire flies.
Day before yesterday I was out doing my water and weeds thing. A young fashion statement approached the house across the street where I knew the occupants to be away at work. This lad wore those pants that make it almost to the wearer's butt crack. Also he wore the ghetto-obligatory, too-big t-shirt and baseball cap. Worst, he seemed uneasy, looking to his right and left, around and around, clearly scoping out the environment. I didn't have a cell phone with which to call the police. If I had abandoned my yard job and gone indoors to get a phone, the effort would have taken at least twenty minutes since I'm old/slow. My heart pounded, "I shouldn't just let that kid do whatever he's about to do, but how can I stop him?" The young man surreptitiously approached the door, looking over his shoulder. He had something in his hand, but not a key. Was it a credit card to use on an easy lock? At the last second before he disappeared indoors, I shrieked, "HEY!!! YOU!! Whadaya think YOU'RE doing?" He jumped guiltily, looked all around, failed to see me, and dashed down the sidewalk, out of sight. Whew! Close one.
All of which qualifies this street for a little sign down by the light on the corner, "Warning. This street protected by irate senior citizen." Oh, yeah. I have a chihuahua, too.
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