Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones

So may chunks of concrete!

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

For better or worse (and probably a little of both) my neighborhood is in "transition". The property values are skyrocketing and more middle and upper class people, and therefore more Caucasians, are moving into the neighborhood. We could spend hours debating the pros and cons of gentrification, but that's not what this entry is about.

The avenue I live on is mixed ethnically, but right behind us most of the homes are occupied by blacks and quite a few families. The children play in the ally because, sadly, there really is nowhere else to play. They pull out a portable basketball hoop or toss the football. In the past, the balls have come into our yard and my housemate and I have returned the balls with no protest.

The past few weeks, it's been chunks of concrete instead. Some have hit the house and I find the chunks in the yard every morning. I place them in a pile and before last night never said anything to the kids.

Last night, while enjoying margarita Monday on the deck, a chunk of concrete came flying into the yard and landed directly between two of my friends, nearly missing their heads. Come to find out, they had also broken my neighbors' fence and been tossing the chunks of concrete into their yard and they have an infant child! That was the last straw for us.

We confronted the kids and of course all vehemently denied their involvement. I don't deny that it is probably one or two bad seeds but I was surprised by their defiance and even aggressiveness towards us. We returned to our yards, my neighbor to fixing his fence and I to my friends and margaritas when more concrete came crashing around us. Well, I ran inside and called the police.

DC has this police "non-emergency" line, 311, which in theory is a good idea, but frankly I haven't yet had a good experience with it. The idea is to call 911 only when your life is in danger, but I believe 311 calls are often ignored by the police. When I lived in Petworth, I actually had an operator give me lip and tell me the people I was reporting weren't doing anything wrong! Well, since our lives weren't in any immediate danger (though getting hit by one of those things would HURT) I called 311 to report the kids. I was told the "next available officer" would be dispatched.

In the meantime, my more level-headed housemate went outside the fence to try to call a truce. I said good-bye to my friends (no buzz-killer like a kid throwing concrete at you) and my housemate and I returned to the backyard. We were discussing how to handle the possibility of another incident when lo and behold another chunk of concrete comes flying over the fence, accompanied by some swearing, and the chunk lands in the other neighbor's yard. We decide to call it a night and go inside.

My housemate goes to the study to use the computer and I go up to read. Since I'm pretty sensitive to sound, I use earplugs at night. Next thing I know I hear a thunk through the earplugs and my housemate calling for me. Sure enough, the house had been hit twice by some type of projectile. I get back on the phone, dial 311, and am told the "next available officer" would come by. We never saw the police.

This morning I cleared several more chunks of concrete and a shoe from the yard and added them to the growing pile.

So today, my housemate is going to try to talk with the parents of these children. It is a bold move, and may be met with any number of reactions. These parents are never outside checking on the kids . . . will they care? I can only hope so.

What's most upsetting to me is that these kids may not be held accountable for their actions. Frankly, they're vandalizing our house and our neighbors' houses. They could break more of the fence or even a window. They could hurt one of us, the dogs, or the baby. And if I'm to rely on 311 the police will never come and we have no way of catching who is actually doing the throwing. I worry how it could escalate. How is it we are the targets? What have we done to them? Is it race related? Is it the changing of the neighborhood? Could it go even deeper than that? Or are they just a bunch of kids with nothing to do and no place to play?

I don't suppose I'll ever get an answer, but I was sure happy to have a maintenance run today to release some of my anger and frustration and consider my options.

Next time those sticks and stones (and shoes) come flying over the fence to break our bones, I'm calling 911 . . . and looking for a kid with only one shoe.