scenes from the neighborhood

It hasn't all been yelling and police visits, I promise. 

*

On Sunday I was walking home from dropping off my bike (flat rear tire). Stepping into the street to avoid some scaffolding propping up a listing house, I saw a woman also in the street holding a bakery box, some bread, and the leash to a panting little bulldog. Go ahead, she said, he's not moving.

We chatted, and I learned Wendell the dog had grown tired in the muggy heat and refused to walk the remaining four blocks home. He just lay in the cool dirt, panting. I offered to carry the bakery box because the woman said she was just the dog walker and couldn't carry both Wendell and her chocolate-peanut butter cake.

So Siobhan, Wendell and I proceeded down a few sunny blocks to his house. He dog-smiled at me over her shoulder, happy to have a ride. We made a pit stop at the church to see if he'd walk but all he would do was roll around, delirious, in the grass.

*

Near the library yesterday I was in the crosswalk with two other pedestrians when a Jeep roared up around a corner, tipping on its wheels. A brief moment of panic and the driver fortunately stood on the brakes. We had some pedestrian solidarity, shaking our heads at her recklessness. Another woman stepped onto the sidewalk from the opposite direction. Did y'all see that wreck? she said, breathless. We thought she meant the Jeep but there was another crash directly across the street, and if she hadn't hesitated she would have been hit. Be safe, we said to each other, and went our separate ways.

I went to the post office, where the key in my PO box, meant to open a package locker, instead twisted uselessly. I tried all the techniques, but no. So I got in line, between two women waiting at the counter, and a very young man absorbed in his phone. Minutes passed. Eight. Ten. A guy got in line behind me. I asked him to hold my place and I went back to try the key again. Nope. I came back. Is anyone working here, he said, and I said I'd briefly seen a clerk when I came in but not since.

He'd gotten a notification from Amazon, he said, that his package had a failed attempted delivery at 1pm. But it was only 11 a.m. We traded looks. It was a re-order of a previous package that had had many "in progress" statuses but then never materialized. It's a whole Italian ham, he said, stretching out his arms. A whole pig's leg. I gave up, to go retrieve my rental bike, wondering if he ever would get his ham.

 Today I walked home from the post office, after successfully retrieving my package (the postal clerk scowled suspiciously when I told her the key did NOT work, but she eventually went and got my delivery). A big dog barked behind a metal screen door as I passed. An older woman approached in the street. Did that dog bark at you? I nodded. She was scared of it, she said. It barked a lot. 

Do you want me to walk with you? She nodded again. So I walked back up the street with her. The house door was mostly closed now. The dog didn't bark. She said she'd been bitten as a six-year-old.

You're traumatized, I said and she said yes. Then she climbed onto her porch and went inside her house.

 

an uneasy quiet

Things got worse, then got oddly quiet.

The afternoon of my previous post, my property manager told me S had gone into the restaurant and threatened some patrons. He was clearly on edge, maybe more so after repeated cop visits? Was I making things worse by calling them out?

* 

Then on Monday, my partner and I were leaving quite early in the morning for an urgent care appointment. He's out there, B said when he came in, and so we went out the back door of my building.

Unfortunately, S came around the back also, already yelling at 7.30am.

I was done. Beyond done. So tired of hearing his voice, the yelling, the slurs, the anger. It was a bad moment as we fumbled out the gate, surprised, confused, and I snapped, exasperated, Will you just shut the fuck up.

It was like dropping a lit match on a gas can. S erupted, shouting You shut the fuck up I'm going to kill you I'm going to...

My partner got in the mix, yelling at him to shut up, to stop showing his penis, etc etc.

They lunged at each other. 

Go on, call the cops, S screamed, so I did, trying to explain the situation and restrain B and get away from S. Neighbors came out on their porches. A passing dog walker advised me to just leave the guy alone, he's nuts (Thanks white dude.) S retreated, then approached again, holding his dirty blanket, angry and screaming, B screaming. We somehow retreated down the street to try and get to the doctor's visit, upset and scared.

The old people neighbors had yelled You sound like a big baby and B couldn't decide if they meant him or S.  

*

I came home later, cautious, pepper spray in hand. No S.

The following day, same cautious approach, no S. A neighbor told me the cops came eventually on Monday morning but S had calmed down by then, so they didn't take him in. No word from the homeless advocates I was emailing with. S was just -- gone.

I've seen the woman I think is S's sister around the neighborhood, at a po-boy place and a local bar. I haven't had the courage to approach her. 

I've looked at some apartments, including one really cool one across town, but my property manager won't release me early from my lease, unless I move into another one of their buildings (jerks). 

*

At a gay bar the next neighborhood over, I asked our favorite bartender who also lives near me, a gentle, soft-spoken soul, if he knew the guy. Oh yeah, W said. He comes in for water sometimes. One time I was out for a walk in the neighborhood and went past him twice and he yelled Hey f***t, get a girlfriend.

And you still give him water, my friend marveled.

Well, yeah, W said, sheepish.  

 

there are no answers

It all continues and nothing changes.The man continues to hover on the block. Thursday he lay in the restaurant doorway screaming as patrons stepped over him. I called, my property manager called, finally an officer came out, phoned me, said "Oh someone's flagging me down about him," and when I went back down later, he was gone, cited for trespassing.

Friday night I returned home with my bike and the man was screaming, pacing rapidly up and down the sidewalk.

It was a game of dodge-em to get myself safely inside.

My property manager A has been helpful and empathetic and doing her best but ultimately is powerless.

*

Officer Lewis came out today about 8.20am. I’d exited my building to see the man sitting wrapped in a blanket on the porch of the Airbnb next door. I called 311 and the officer was pretty snotty when she first arrived. Couldn’t find the police report, said he wasn’t breaking any laws, the homeowner would have to complain. Meanwhile he sat and stared sullenly across the street at me standing outside the cop car.

I went inside to get my hard copy of the report and when I came back, he was gone.

She looked it up, said it was entered as trespassing not indecent exposure. Then she said, "Oh he’s gone?" (quelle surprise)

I’m annoyed, tired of explaining over and over what’s happened. Tired of feeling like I’m the one to blame. Meanwhile church goers are arriving, setting up coffee and pastries outside, the work crew nearby (Spanish speakers all) looking uneasy.

My neighbor walked up, coffee in hand. Now the officer addressed him. (Yay sexism)

She said the man's name is Shawn, he’s well known for vandalism, exposing himself, screaming and harassing. The coffee shop around the corner has dealt with him, a bar had its window broken out. He was on the next street over for awhile. His sister lives in the neighborhood, feeds and houses him sometimes, but he cusses her out and leaves. He’s been hospitalized.

So again there are no good solutions. S. doesn’t want help and is crafty enough to elude the cops and any long lasting treatment or penalties. The officer said he’s been arrested before but then they get complaints about the police harassing homeless people.

I'm trying to live my values, of compassion and not harming anyone, but what do I do when I feel so unsafe?

I'm trying to be brave, and patient.

But this man S. refuses help. He harasses, assaults, and craftily runs away.

I want there to be a record

I don't want to end up stabbed, assaulted, dead.  

assault and the pervasive silence

I experienced assault this week.
Physically I'm OK, psychologically not so much.
The assaulter, let's call him Willy, is an unhoused person who hangs around my apartment building.
Beyond the houselessness--he sleeps and lolls in nearby a restaurant doorway--Willy is a screamer. For months he's roamed the neighborhood, yelling about killing people, slitting throats, murdering all the white people. The restaurant doesn't do anything, so sometimes their well-heeled patrons literally step over him to get inside.
Other times he'll be smiley, wishing you a nice day. It's a shit-eating grin that I don't trust for one second.

A few days ago he pulled down his crusty old sweatpants and displayed his admittedly sad and pathetic dick. Made eye contact with me as if to be sure I got a good long look. Shocked, I hurried away to run my errand.

My next instinct was anger. Fuck that guy. I wanted to beat the shit out of him with my baseball bat. I texted a neighbor. Then called my apartment's emergency line. Call the police, they said.

I hesitated. Willy is a black man in America. I know what happens. And I also know I want to feel safe going in and out of my home. Eventually I called the non-emergency police number. He needs mental health treatment, I said, but they only sent a cop, a couple hours later.

Officer L took my report, said the neighborhood softies obviously had made it too comfortable for Willy. I don't disagree but he was pretty callous. By this time one of the apartment managers was on site so I talked with her too.

Three days later, not much has changed. I exited my building this morning to see him waddling up my street, looking around and then going into the port potty by a building under construction. I made the calls, police, apartment, but what will change?

The other interesting part of this is the reactions. Some acquaintances laughed it off. You should point and chuckle. You should kick him in the throat. You should...

Others are properly shocked or angry or both.

One called me to listen and talk. Like many of my women friends, she has also experienced assault. 
Many of us have gone through much worse than this. A sad reality.

One friend didn't respond at all. Like it never happened. Which feels kind of like the cops and my apartment managers. Waiting for it or me to go away, to be quiet, to stop complaining. I'm not sure how much energy I have for this fight.