Streets in My Neighborhood

When I heard that this week I could share my feelings about the safety of strolling around my neighborhood, I thought it was quite fortunate that I’d planned to make the 3 + mile walk to town the next day.

Previous to the thought about the safety of a jaunt through the largely residential areas, I’d only been aware of the pride that most people took in their homes and gardens. No matter how small or sparse, people planted, arranged and made an artistic impact in their own stamp of the world. I’ve never had feelings of insecurity or fear of drivers or passers-by on my several journeys into town. I should point out a couple things about my physical appearance, which affords me a certain lack of anxiety for my safety: 1) I’m white 2) I’m over 65, and therefore invisible.

Enough said.


Changing for the Better

My particular habitat, and the surrounding blocks used to have a reputation for having frequent drug busts, with crack or crank houses being prevalent. A decade later, and those places are fairly rare, with only one drug dealer operating across the street and a few young people who stay busy riding or fixing their motorbikes. We leave each other alone and at peace: co-existing is good.

Given all that, I feel quite secure in my dwelling, call it home, abode, nest: where I feel free to be me, and fearlessly venture forth in any direction.

Since that’s a pretty complacent attitude, I believe it’s time for me to become involved in community affairs and reach out to others—who could be just down the road—and be part of the solution towards problems arising from inequities. It’s time that we all felt that our homes were sanctuaries, and were free to walk our neighborhoods without fear.

[Img.Src: Residential Area, 1973]

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