Our Civic Duty

Stewart and I just got back from our first community meeting with our local police station’s Senior Lead Officer. We’ve been talking about doing this for years, ever since we started talking about starting a neighborhood watch program on our block, but the meetings are on Tuesday nights at 7pm and Stew is usually teaching at that time.

It’s summer, however, and our lovely daycare agreed to keep the kids until after bedtime (and even bathe and PJ them) for a small additional fee, so we finally got to attend. The first thing we noticed was that we were the youngest people there out of approximately 50. Let’s put it this way: some people say that having children makes them feel younger. I am not one of those people. My children make me feel haggard and gray. But going to this meeting made me feel like a small child, which I was when the other meeting attendees were already in middle age.

Let’s not dwell on what that says about us or about the lack of similarly-minded people our age and how they don’t live in our neighborhood. Let’s move on.

The agenda consisted of the following: the senior lead officer introduced the evening, pointed out that Stewart and I were the only new people in attendance, and then fielded general questions. It was immediately clear who was there to hear themselves speak. It seemed like a good taste of what town hall meetings are like.

Next up was a lovely detective who heads up the sex crime unit. She is a mother of two teenagers who entered the police force at 30 before having her two kids. She has spent time in every area of police work, areas that forced her to face the darkest of human behaviors. The detective talked about how we can keep ourselves and our children safe from predators. It came to light that the most dangerous place to let one’s children go unattended are the public bathrooms at our local mall. Nice. Now my boys won’t get to go in the men’s room until they are 15. Or older.

The audience asked questions, told stories, and some went on and on incoherently, but the detective fielded all with patience and wisdom. This is the kind of person you would want taking care of you if you had just been raped, obviously. I asked her how, having seen what she has seen, she ever lets her children out of their rooms, not to mention out of the house. I think she misunderstood me, because she answered with a long warning about the dangers of the internet. I made a note to call her later for an interview for one of my many outlets.

Next up was a man from the city attorney’s office, who told us what to do if squatters take up residence in our neighborhood’s new foreclosed homes, who to call when the drunks at the corner market get rowdy, and how to find out who owns the rental across the street so we can badger them into getting the tenants to mow the lawn.

I left the meeting feeling younger and more empowered. Where is the latest crime happening so I can call the cops? Who is being a nuisance so I can abate them? Bring on that aggressive panhandling! I’VE GOT A NUMBER – I WILL CALL IT.

Aside from helping us feel more in control, the meeting also left us terrified and vowing to replace our old doors and windows with more updated and secure models. We live in a single story, after all. Most creepy nighttime B&E predators get in through first floor windows. And we have very precious cargo.