The Green Bag

April 13, 2007

I haven’t been doing too well with my journal, but I want to record what happened this morning so that I can remember the most important part of it as a reminder to myself.

I had awakened about 6:00 and was on my second cup of coffee between 7:30 and 8:00 when the two youngsters next door showed up here at my place.

The unit next to mine, upstairs here in the building and a “mirror” of my place, is still owned by one of the original buyers here – 24 years or so ago. He lived here for a while and then bought a house and began renting the unit out. I had a nice quiet young man as a neighbor for a number of years. Then he bought a house. The unit was re-rented, and Glen and Patricia and her two children have lived there for a couple of years now.

I had heard Glen and Patricia arguing several times, and once told Patricia that she should tell the children, Tyrell, about 9 now and Tyra, about 7, that if they ever needed anyone to talk to or to help them, they should come over here. The two very nice kids have been here before now; they had asked me one day if they could come in and see Blue. Blue, of course, disappeared the moment they walked in the door. But I told them they needed to come back once in a while so she would get to know them. And, during that visit, I told them myself that if they ever needed help to come to me.

When they appeared at my door this morning, the front door was open, and they called to me through the screen door. They were frightened (I could tell by the sight of them) and near tears. I asked what was up.

“Mom and Dad are fighting,” was the teary reply.

I said, “It’s a bad fight, isn’t it?” This was answered by even tearier nods of heads.

“Are they hitting each other?”

And Tyra offered, “Dad is hitting Mom.”

So I said, “Do you want me to call the police?” This time, the vigorous nods were given with looks of relief.

So I call 9-1-1 and reported what I knew so far. An officer responded within about five minutes. In the meantime, Patricia had called (yelled frantically?) for the children, who had run out to tell her they were at my place. They came right back.

The responding officer is one I know to some extent. He had responded several weeks ago when I reported vandalism to the pool house. That’s another story. Anyway, as he and I were conversing, him on the sidewalk and me on my porch, he saw Glen coming from their unit. He shouted at Glen to stay outside, and had to tell him several times to come to the bottom of the stairs.

Patricia came out as well. When the officer realized that Glen was going to be uncooperative (belligerent would be putting it nicely), he called for reinforcements. Soon there were another four or five officers from OPD here.

They separated Glen and Patricia, leading her out to the shade of a tree near the parking lot, and making Glen stay on the stairs to the unit. At one point I glanced “outside my kitchen window,” to see Glen with his hands cuffed behind him, sitting on the stairs to my unit.

In the meantime, I got out all the “grandkid stuff” I’ve been gathering through the years: the marble tree, coloring books, etc. and made oatmeal for the kids. They watched T.V. (told me their not allowed to watch one of the “kids” channels at night) and then played games on the computer. They each ate a little bit of the oatmeal; I let them have some of Allen’s jelly beans and cookies. What the heck. It sure wasn’t a normal day. Both of them also gave Blue a couple of her treats. And they both thought it was pretty cool when I showed them my “bed in the closet.” When Tyra saw my lava lamp, she exclaimed, “You have EVERYTHING!” I told her, no, that I just had a lot of old stuff.

It was almost two hours before things were resolved, whatever that resolution might have been. Patricia came here to retrieve Tyrell and Tyra, telling them they had to go to school. (One of the first things Tyrell had said when they came into my place was, “We’re supposed to be going to school.”) By this time, both kids groaned. They were having a pretty good time – and I’m quite sure they were fighting off the effects of trauma.

But I think it was wise of Patricia to try to resume some sense of normality into their day. I asked her if Glen was next door, and she simply responded, “No.” I have no idea if he had to go with the officers; his car is still in the parking lot, so I’m inclined to believe that he didn’t leave on his own.

My day has been combobulated since, but I am, above all left with this.

I am so very grateful that those two youngsters were aware – and remembered – that they could come to me for help. I would like to think that all the young people who live here, though they are few, would feel the same way about me. And I am just as grateful that I had the opportunity to prove that my word is good.

I think most of us have very good intentions and say to others, “Call me if you need help.” Most of us never have to stand up to the test of living up to that invitation. And that’s not bad. But to know that I was trusted to live up to what I’d said, and then being able to actually follow through with that, has been great for my head and my own well-being.

It was awful that the event happened. I’m glad I was able to help.

So be it.