Date: Thu, 7 Aug 1997 23:55:14 -0800 [actually June 10!] From: Charlie Ford Subject: An American Alley "If a tree falls in the desert and there is no one there to hear it....does it make a sound?" For the past few weeks I have been living in Seattle, Washington. While here I have been hosted by Michael Lewis and his family, a fellow list member. Bobbie, Michaels wife has fed me several meals, let me do laundry, and has been a friend to chat with about decisions I have been trying to make while on this journey. She is a great woman, as Michael is a great man. Michael and Bobbie's three kids, Trevor, the eldest son, Bekah, his eldest daughter, and Kevin his youngest son, have made me feel very much as if I were a part of this family. Even their dog Jenny greets me at the door as I enter in the morning. While here I have camped out in an alley behind Michael's home in west Seattle. As I mentioned in an earlier post, West Seattle is comprised mostly of the "blue collar" worker. It is a very diverse district of this Seattle. And one I might add that has its share of goings on. Along with the diversity, Asian, Hispanic, white, black, and Indian, and the economic challenges that many of these people face, there are the social problems that are inherent. Crime is rampant, children are running around day and night. The gangbangers hang on the street corner by the neighborhood store, looking for something exciting to tag into, or create some excitement of their own. Abandoned cars dot the streets and yards that are not kept up as you would see in some of the other more economically blessed districts around town. The first few days after I arrived here a family moved into the house directly behind Michael's. The house had recently become a part of the HUD program which can have good and bad results. Essentially this takes the landlord out of the picture, and HUD places whoever they want into the residence, then they pay the landlord the rent. The family placed into this house is a white single parent with three children ranging in age from 10 to 15 years old. The first night as they moved in we saw some shady characters hanging out. Several scraggly looking biker types rolled in on thunderingly loud Harley Davidson Bikes, each one flew colors on the vest they wore. There was noise all through the night. It was very evident to me, since I was sleeping in the alley, that these people had very little regard for the rest of the community or the neighbors on each side of them. The next morning as I emerged from my bus I saw one of the guys outside, I stepped over and said hi, he said "hi". I asked if he was moving in, he explained "no, a friend of his and her three kids were". I asked about his bike, I have always had a preference for Harleys as opposed to Honda, Yamaha, and the like. They sound so good and ride even better. He told me that he had just gotten it back, I asked what he meant, he explained that he had been in jail and had just gotten out of the joint (jail) the week before. I have been around bikers. I know some of the outlaws, and even a couple of the notorious Hells Angels, that is if they are not already dead and gone to the big bike week in the sky. there are some of these guys that are just regular guys. They are professionals and act like it. a friend of mine who owned a Harley shop in Athens Georgia used to say that the only people you will see on a Harley are either law breakers or law makers. they are the only two classes that can afford them these days. These guys were the "law breakers"! As the weeks past we met several folks coming in and out of this house. We saw them coming and going at all times of the night. Several arguments ensued and at times I was wondering if I was going to catch a stray bullet coming through the side of my bus. To compound the issue, the house two doors down from this one was just as bad. It appeared that the folks that lived in each one knew each other, and they were all just happy as larks to be together and living near one another. I think they actually got a sense of power out of it. The more I watched, the more sleep I lost due to arguments, fights, or other noise, the more irritated to action I became. I have always been one that believed that "if I live in Atlanta, and a kid is shot in New York or Chicago, it is still my problem to help solve". I believe that if a man or woman is homeless in LA, then it is my charge to help them find a home. I now felt as if I had to make this situation more amicable for everyone. At least give it a shot. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but I knew I was going to do something! One day as I walked in the house Bobbie asked me if I knew that the kids were not in school, I explained that I didn't realize that, but I knew everything else about them. its amazing what one can learn listening to a fight at 2 in the morning. She then told me that she had called the school board and reported this fact to the authorities. The problem was that she had reported it several days ago and nothing had happened to date. Each day you would see the young boy, the 10 year old, out riding his bike in mid-day. You would see the 15 year old girl coming in at two or three and then see her walking around in her bedroom clothes at 12 noon on the weekdays. I took it upon myself to be the second caller. I called the school board, the mayors office, the superintendents office, and looked up the number to the governors office. I called 'em all, and to all I asked the same question, "why the hell has nothing happened yet?" I explained in my most demanding voice that action be taken immediately, explaining that each day that went by things got worse for the kids. They all heed and hawed and essentially steered me elsewhere. Finally I called Child Protective Services. I spoke with a Ms. Davis. I told her the situation for the umpteenth time. She told me that she would get right on this. She sent me an e mail later informing me that she had spoken with the school board office and they would respond rapidly. The next day there were cops, social workers, and school representatives at the house. They were shaking it down and cleaning it up. Come to find out the house was being lived in by a clan of meth-amphetamine freaks. For those of you that might not know, meth is "speed" you can make in your kitchen if you have the ingredients. That would explain why these folks were up at all hours of the night. That would explain the arguments and fights. That would explain the neglect of the kids, and the fact that they were not in school. Meth freaks have no regard for much except maintaining the buzz. When it comes right down to it, I understand why and how people get addicted. Drugs are a sad part of our American life. They are constantly being battled but keep growing more prevalent in our society. I personally have had some experience with drugs. I wish I had not, but I have. When I was growing up in south Georgia in the 60's and 70's, pot was our drug of choice, as opposed to alcohol. If you were to look at the numbers I believe they would show that most pot usage happens in the rural areas. In the early 80's I started doing cocaine. I must have snorted up about half of Peru. Somewhere along the line I must have met Manuel Noriega. I started boozing it up and doing my drugs. Life had basically turned to hell. I had no love, no drive, no passion, and no realization that I still had choices. for a time I was lost. This single Mother that lived behind Michael was apparently in need of some good ole fashioned realizations. I probably wouldn't have done anything at all so drastic if the kids had not been involved. I may have called the police a night or two when things got out of hand and noisy, but that's about it. If a person wants to be a druggy there is not a whole helluva lot we or anybody else can do about it. The drugs are available, and it is just like smoking........one has to decide they want to quit. I had to make the same decision at one time in my life. I believe that realization of truth came on that fateful day when she woke up to three tons of authorities standing at her front door. Child Protective Services sited her for neglect, the school board sited her for neglect, and the cops searched the house and charged two people there with outstanding warrant charges and drug possession. The next few days you saw police cars parked along the alley and the patrolmen out walking the alley trying to find more stragglers and doing general observation. They were letting their presence be known. They told all the neighbors to give a 911 call if anything at all suspicious happened around this house. The next week they came back and raided the second house two doors down. Once again they arrested people for drug possession and outstanding warrant charges. Things got really quiet, really quickly. The neighbors got involved and started calling numerous times per day if need be. They are all good people that work hard. Before they had felt like their hands were tied, but now they felt empowered. I found out from one of the officers, Sean Moore that the district I was staying in is known as the "Delridge Corridor". This district is one of the toughest in Seattle. I still lay in my bed some nights waiting to hear that fateful shot from the darkness that pierces the side of The Mothership and then penetrates my body. After two weeks the alley is still quiet. No more fights, the kids are in school and back with their mother where they should be. It appears as if she is trying to do better, I hope so. Thye social worker reportedly has been visiting every other day. The neighbors are talking about forming a watch group that will involve the area police officers. I am getting more sleep and feel a little safer each night when I close my eyes and say my prayers. There is certainly the chance that the block will regress back into a trouble area, but right now it is calm. If the good people take the reigns then it will last. This calm happened because people stood up. they took the bull by the horns and did what they had to do. Service is not always safe, nor is it easy, but someone has to make the tough calls and get involved. In this case it was Bobbie, the other good neighbors, and myself. Maybe the little guy next door, that two weeks ago rode his bike around in mid day, unsupervised by any parent, will now grow up to be President someday. Maybe he will just grow up to be a mechanic, but at least for now he has a "chance" to grow up. We can't solve all the problems, but I'll be damned if we can't strngthen the potential for them to be solved. Kids deserve a good chance. I will leave here in two weeks. I am going to Denver to do a days training for the Sheridan Family Resource Center AmeriCorps program, then I am on to Chicago to work as a Carpet Layer for a couple weeks, then on to Michigan to do another workshop for yet another AmeriCorps program. I will miss this alley, this home, and the firends I have made here. It has brought me much learning. I have had a chance to observe what a lot of folks would not dare to take the chance to observe. I have had the chance to serve people from another community 3000 miles away from the one I call mine. Living in this alley doesn't make me courageous, it just re-iterates to me that we as "people of service" have to go where the tree is falling. This is the only way we will hear it, or heal its wound to keep it from falling. Thanks for tolerating my ramblings, Charlie Ford "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". http://www.armory.com/~y21cvb/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"