Blind Eye

[An entry begun in June ... ]

I've been thinking a lot lately but not writing. I've been doing a lot of other stuff, too. Some of it I might bore you with at a later time.

I'm fascinated with the idea that we humans "find ourselves in situations." I indulge this thought pattern all too often myself. When, in reality, I firmly believe we create our situations. We must own them free-and-clear; lock, stock and barrel. We also create the polarized viewpoints that some situations are good and some are bad. It's all in perception. That's a simplistic way to put it that can be incredibly intricate, but enlightening when approached with an open mind.

At least that is the way I see it, most of the time.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I'll keep on thinking.

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We got into an argument with our neighbor last night. It was a really freakish series of events precipitated by overhearing evidence of the all-too-real possibility that she was beating her kid. Someone else on our street called the police before we could. By the time we made it out to the front porch the neighbor's roommate/relative had talked the cops away. We questioned what was going on and the source of the crying. He played it down, said it was just the mother getting the kid to bed. We knew what we'd heard and pressed it further. He smuggly said we should mind our own business, in much more colorful terms. I wanted badly to march over and get in his face but I swallowed my anger.

Convinced we'd called the cops on her, the mother was on our porch within a few minutes -- pounding on our door at 11pm. I can't begin to repeat what she said for I can't even remember it all now -- but little of it was cognizant and none of it was civil. It had the tone of a well rehearsed litany. In fact I'll indulge it no further except to say April very tactfully endured, for several days afterward, being called a 'stupid white bitch' from our neighbor's second story window while she played with the kids in our backyard. When I arrived home one evening I noticed egg residue on the garage wall with a conspicuous trajectory not coincidentally traced in the precise direction of the neighbor's back porch.

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I wrote the first part of this essay over a week ago. While I wondered today whether to write about this or how it could possibly tie into what I had already written, it hit me -- what a horrible situation these people have created. My mind struggles with the myriad of back stories (which I admittedly can't understand) that brought these people to their current place. But I will begrudge no sweeping socioeconomic excuses -- our neighbors have created their situation.

Yet, I could not extract myself from culpability and that was the second epiphany on the rocky, angered road of understanding -- too many, too often turn a blind eye. It's easy to turn up the stereo, drink another beer, close the windows and turn on the A/C to convince someone "that's just not my business." However, if we acknowledge a lack of community and greater alienation from one another within our culture, I will posit one of the principal reasons for that is a lack of gumption from neighbors to step out of their houses and get involved. For me, getting involved often means calling someone's shit, crying foul, reminding others that people are watching.

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I wrote all of that two months ago. Shortly afterward we learned the four-plex next door was in foreclosure. Needless to say we were ecstatic. Our problem neighbors are forced to move. At last!

Some nights it seems they've moved out, but they're still here. Gas and water shut off, they're still here making as much noise, spewing as much repetitive music and abusive profanity as before into the common air for all to hear. I want them gone. I want them gone so badly. But I only want them gone as much as I desire one other thing at the moment -- understanding. I want to know how, and why? I think I know how one can shout such things night after night toward one another, but why does one think it's okay to blare music and shout arguments at a volume that rattles one's whole building and disturbs the neighborhood?

I'm dangerously conservative in my viewpoint at the moment. Conservative in a Reaganistic way and I'm none too proud of that. Our neighbors don't have jobs. This fact is confirmed. They are sitting on their porch day after day, getting drunk and stoned, on someone else's dime. That's where the mindfuck occurred for me: They're blasting a stereo that keeps me up all night -- but I payed for it; They're erupting into alcohol-fueled disputes multiple times a week -- but I bought their booze.

I should say we -- we bought these things for them, because obviously our system is providing all they think they need. Never mind their kids sometimes come over to play and often beg for our dinner leftovers. The parents have all think they need -- the kids can fend for themselves, right?

I've vastly oversimplified this point, so I'll dig no further. I've needed to let off some steam regarding the neighbors. However, while I consider myself a political liberal and even a socialist at times, I am at odds with the notion of idiot compassion. Flinging money and good intentions at problems will not cure them. Perhaps more of us have to walk out of our comfortable homes and traipse the gutters to re-assess issues with the folks who are involved. In all honesty, I'm not so sure I'm up for that challenge.