Eyes on the street

A cousin of mine recently moved to Washington, DC where we used to live.  She was nervous about safety, never having lived in an urban neighborhood before.  We gave her lots of advice and tips but the most important, in our opinion, is that streets are generally safe when there are a lot of people around.  Even in broad daylight a deserted street may not be safe. I’ve written about this before and just witnessed a brief little episode that reminded me of it again.

I’m working on making dinner in my kitchen.  It’s about 4:00–definitely not dark yet.  My kitchen windows open out onto a small parking lot behind the apartments next door.  The comings and goings in the small lot are pretty predictable and things are generally quiet this time of the afternoon so I took a second look when my eye caught movement out the window.  I watched as first one and then about five young boys (maybe 12 years old?) came dashing from the street into the lot.  They made for a corner and came running back one of them wielding a can of spray paint which he used to decorate the AC units and support beams  under the balcony of the apartment building.  I threw up the window and shouted, “Hey!  Get out of here.”  Not exactly threatening and, really, what was I going to do?  I have my baby strapped to my back and the other two kids at home.  But they looked chagrined, “We’re going,” one said.  ”We’re going right now,” another added.

I went into my kids room which has windows on the street just in time to see a man in work clothes and knee pads collar the ring leader.  I opened the window and leaned out.  I didn’t know the man and he didn’t acknowledge me but he knew I was there.  I noticed that the parents of the young girl who lives across the street were out on their patio hanging on their gate watching the scene.  The boys were surrounded and all of us adults knew we had the support we needed to stop them.  The boys had, from the sounds of it, stolen the paint from the man down on the sidewalk although he seemd to already know the first name of the ring leader and where he lived.  He kept his hand on his shirt collar as he walked him down the street saying he was going to “take him home,” and he got the names and addresses of all the other kids while he was at it.

The boys were making mischief.  Looking out my window, there is very little damage to the building next door.  But I’m glad to know that simple mischief doesn’t go unchecked here.

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