At CHOP, every day is new.
Hell, every hour is new, sometimes.
I don't always understand, and I certainly don't always like the new.
But it's evolving, growing, contracting, reacting like the true organism that it is.
There's laughter and shouting, anger and joy, thought provoking art and flat-out capitalism.
There's a hot dog stand.
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Last night was another night of shooting and a death.
The armed security at Car Tender allegedly provided medical aid but was not part of the shooting.
This morning, after a restless night, I set out to the drug store.
Pine was eerily quiet, with only security at the barriers and a few green-hatted legal aid observers.
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((NOTE: I am not taking or posting photos in the CHOP. There are plenty of pix via news sources and social media including:
After a walk last week when an SUV with Texas plates slow-rolled past me, parents gawking out the front, teens video-ing out the back, I'm done playing tourist. Also, not everyone at CHOP is okay with being photographed, particularly not the medics or legal observers.))
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Anyway, Pine was quiet down to Broadway, so I ran my errands and walked back up Pike. I wanted to stop at the mail place at 12th and Pike but could see there was a crowd gathered on the north corner. I slowed. Probably 20 or 30 people surrounded a black pickup truck, yelling and shouting at the occupants. I waited awhile but it wasn't clear why they were so upset. So, I back-tracked down to 11th and cut over to Pine.
I chatted with one of the security folk for a minute. Quietly, they said they have a kid at home but feel strongly they need to be out there protecting the neighborhood.
I continued up Pine, also still strangely empty, save for a group at the top of the hill, just outside the East Precinct. As I got closer I saw a petite figure in a police uniform and realized Chief Best was giving a press conference.
I listened to the tail end, hovering on the edge of 30 or so cameras and reporters. In the apartments above, a woman yelled, "Black Lives Matter!" and we chanted for a minute. A guy with a bullhorn played a police siren at random moments, drowning out the chief. Eventually she headed up the hill towards 13th, trailed by all of the news cameras.
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I have no insight into what is next or what anything means. I assume the police will return sooner rather than later. I worry for the safety of the brave folks outside, unprotected and targeted.
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Just as every day is new, every night feels strangely the same.
Worrisome. Tense. We sit--inside and out--and wait.
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