An Oasis

For the last 30 minutes, the Contra Costa County Police Helicopter has been circling over my house. Down the road three houses several of Antioch's police cars are parked - on curbs, lawns and in the middle of the road. The creek behind has dogs barking and men with flashlights running along the banks. As I look out the front window I see little faces staring back at me as kids across the street watch television played out in real life at the house down the street. 3 doors down is a half way house. There was a stabbing just a few months ago and now the police have returned for reasons unknown and not explained to us who watch from our windows.


Sadly, this is nothing new for me. After three years in Idaho, where the only time I saw a cop in action was when they were marching in a parade or telling a couple to stop making out in a car, I returned to California and was reminded of crime. On my first day back, after less than an hour of being home I saw the police arrest two juveniles. For the next year I lived in that apartment. It was not uncommon for John and I to come home to SWAT or to having our driveway blocked by EMS waiting to go in an clean up a mess, but had to wait for an all clear from the many officer gathering.

Prior to moving to Idaho, John and I lived in another part of Antioch where we had the privilege of having access to all the prostitutes and drug dealers we wanted. They worked the corners closest to our home. All we would have needed was a fistful of cash and an absentminded trust of our selected dealer. (I'm sure none of those girls had STDs and I'm sure the drug product was always pure - but I never took the time to test either. Just in case.) That summer was California's summer of rolling blackouts. As the lights were darkened, the searchlights, from above and attached to black and white cars, came out. John and I, and occassionally KNJ-P, would huddle at the window and watch.

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Each time I hear the sound of that helicopter, I lock the doors, and thank God. I thank God because I know - I am safe.


In every instance in every neighborhood, I have found an oasis of safety. Except for the halfway house three doors down, everyone in this neighborhood is friendly. Everyone knows me and have been nice to me since I moved in. Prior to Idaho, we lived on a private road in a quiet neighborhood. Go one street either way and you were looking for trouble, but on our street - kids played in the street. We had street bar b q's where the topic was steak and baseball. In my last neighborhood, we were good friends with the four other apartments in the complex. I built a play set for a grandchild. John paid for and built a ramp for another neighbor. Desserts were passed back and forth as a revolving door of sweets was created. One neighbor even swapped apartments with another neighbor when the first neighbor on the second floor couldn't take the stairs any more. Where I lived, have always been palaces of peace.

So despite the exchange of brass, batons and battery existing outside tonight, I lock my doors and pray with gratitude. Tonight, I am blessed with safety.