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.
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.